I had this organized, little list, tucked neatly away in my brain, of all the things I would accomplish on my days off…but I had a visitor that screwed up my whole yard work plan. Rapping, tapping, shredding, and ripping through everything. Hello, Wind! Did you miss me? I haven’t missed you but then it’s hard to miss something that never goes away.

While the events of last week have already become history, I plan not to lose the details of two tables I dealt, back to back, by letting them slide away somewhere down memory lane. The first game was $50-$100 NLH. Nine players, one new player that sat down in the 5s and I had called for player’s chips for him.

The 7s had two sweaters standing over him, one of them works at Bellagio…a host I believe. Other people were milling around, talking with other players in this game and in general, it was a mass of confusion and noise, very little game play, lots of checking and extremely difficult to deal.

The 8s opened.

I called seat open several times but I was on a table over towards “O” and no one can hear you S-C-R-E-A-M-I-N-G from that section.

Enter Sam G. He hovered around the 7s, talking up the fact that “they” should play someone heads-up. Let me just guess that would be Sam playing someone else’s money (probably the 7s) and they would pick someone from that game…if Sam could sell the deal. No one bit or jumped on the golden opportunity but Sam never gave up.

Rachel (one of our Chip Runners) went by the table and I said, “Rachel, would you please let Carmen know I have a seat open?”

Rachel scurried off and Sam did a dialogue dance with out a partner. “Look at that. She’s calling for a fill. Man if I ran this place everyone that worked here would get a pink slip. There’d be pink slips flying everywhere. The air would be full of them.”

He looked at me, “This one here would get a red slip.”

I chuckled, “You didn’t even hear what I said, Sam. I asked her to let Carmen know I had a seat open.”

Sam was still trying to look ultra cool as he tripped over his feet in the dance. “Oh…a seat open…yeah, why is that seat open?”

He went on and on and on. The game seemed to last a lifetime. I finally got pushed, right into that $50-100 PLO game. She-e-it!

This half hour down should be a scene in the movies. Except no one that writes movie scripts could dream this shit up.

A yellow button was in the 7s, designating a seat open. About the third hand I dealt, a guy that was pig, stinking drunk landed in it. I’d noticed him in the seat before when I drifted by the game and I assumed he was returning.

Herschel was in the 3s and I asked him if I should just deal the 7s in. He said, “Yes.”

Hells bells, it gets ridiculous here.

The 7s threw out a $500 chip and said, “Raise it!”

I asked, “Is it $300 or $400?”

The 7s asked me if I was a Pot Limit dealer. I told him I was new. He told me I’d better learn fast. The end result was that he could raise it to $400. I gave him back $100. On the Flop his one opponent folded to a raise.

The 7s had crumpled, messy clumps of $100 bills in front of him, along with a variety of other chips. The next hand he threw out a $100 chip and the yellow ‘reserved’ button that had been in his seat.

I announced, “$100 to call.”

Willy, in the 1s called a $100. The 7s went nuts. “I raised it $1,000.”

The 5s was totally exasperated and irritated with poker in general but his focus was on the 7s. “No you didn’t. You raised it $100.”

The 7s only had eyes for me. “What did you do with the $1,000 chip I threw in?”

I pulled the reserve button out of the rack and told him that was what he threw in. He told me I couldn’t give him a yellow button and then act like it wasn’t a $1,000 chip when he wanted to raise. Hysterical…so now we have pretend $1,000 chip just to trick the players?

I screamed for a decision. Of course no one heard me. We waited. I sent Rachel to find Carmen. This took at least a minute and a half. In the meantime, Willy said he’d take back his $100 and let the 7s have the pot. Ain’t it amazing how these guys will get on their knees to make someone ‘loose’ and ‘drunk’ happy? Everyone seemed to think it was a great idea. So be it! I gave Willy back his $100.

Carmen arrived as I pushed the pot to the 7s. He was still informing me, and her, that I couldn’t give him a yellow button and then not think he meant to raise a $1,000. I made a comment that I didn’t give him a yellow button and I didn’t want him talking to me like that.

Herschel, 3s, told me just to let it go, “…you’re smarter than that, Linda.”

In essence, Carmen told the 7s to ease up on me and she escaped back to the podium, which seems to be a million light years away from the section I was in.

Devilfish was in the 8s, dining and gambling. The 7s decided he was hungry and he had a sweater by now. He put the live $200 on the blind and before the action got halfway around the table, he threw his hand away. I promptly scooped it into the muck.

Four players called to see the Flop and as I got ready to burn, Willy barked, “Wait a minute…he didn’t call yet!” he meant the 7s.

Herschel jumped in, “Leave the dealers alone for God’s sake. They can’t even do their jobs without someone jumping in the middle of it. He already folded.”

Wow! Right on!

The Blind was coming to the 7s and I couldn’t get his attention. I asked, to no one in particular, “What’s his name?”

The 5s said, “Idiot!”

We both laughed.

Herschel told me not to worry about it, he would put the Blind in for the 7s. I tried one more time to get the 7s’s attention and Herschel said, “God! When are you going to learn to trust the players?”

The 4s said, “He needs to know it’s his blind or he might just throw his hand away.”

Point made. The 7s put up his blind. Devilfish called. Willy called.

The 7s raised it $400 more – this was after he picked his hand completely up, off the table, and looked at it from about a foot away from his face.

Devilrish called and Willy called, then the 7s accused Devilfish of looking at his hand and an argument ensued between them. Devilfish pulled back his $400 call and his blind and threw his hand away.

I told him he couldn’t do that. He stated that he wasn’t going to be accused of cheating and looking at someone’s hand. I told him he had to leave the money in – he refused. I called for a decision. NO ONE CAME! I was out in the netherworld of poker. KEE-RIST!

Devilfish just ignored me and kept eating. He had food from Noodles in foil pans and gave something to the 7s.

The general concensus of the table was they they didn’t care, just get on with the game. I looked at Hershel, “Is that ok????”

Shrug! NO one minded. I finished the hand with this, “As soon as I get out of this game, I’m going to have a shot of whiskey.”

Adib was in the 2s and he roared, “Dealer, you just made my night. I like you. I’m stuck but you have me laughing.”

Hell…I was serious. But no…I didn’t drink anything except water.

A few minutes later and the 7s had a foil food pan, bent in the middle from CRUSHING it and received more food from Noodles in which he had the food runner just dump it into the pan…feeding time.

Herschel looked at his cards, threw them away, gave me the, “…you never deal me anything.”

I replied, “It’s not because I don’t love you though.”

Herschel replied, “You know I love you too, you’re one of the nicest ones here.”

Devilfish won a couple of big pots and threw me a red bird.

I got pushed.

Now here’s the reason dealers hate to deal high limit. I made $3 from the $50-100 NLH game and $5 from the $50-100 PLO game. Yes…the game can be mildly entertaining at times but mostly it’s a dealer’s headache because the players always think the game should run according to them. But if I had tripped through a friendly little $4-8 H game, I would/could have been laughing with the crew that just came to play poker and they normally throw a few extra $$$ in my pocket just because I’m me.

The end of last week’s history…the beginning of a new week of history starts tomorrow.