I’m beyond believing that I ever had the capability to think or function as a human being. My brain is fried. My body doesn’t need a picture of my brain being fried, it just knows that nothing is filtering down from the unit that is supposed to control all the motor senses and desires/wants of this being known as ‘Linda’. I have finally reached the point to where poker makes no sense to me at all…people sitting down armed with chips and what? Good sense? Skill? More money than they have brains? ARGHHHH!!!! I’ve reached ‘tournament burnout’. No…we are not having a tournament (and we are going to have the $10,000 buy-in Bellagio Challenge Cup running Monday-Thursday, July 18-21, starting at noon) but we get high limit players from the overflow of the games of the WSOP. Trying to describe it from the Dealer’s POV is tough. You’d have to sit in the box and fade it, day after day, to get the full gist of what’s going on in that black hole in my brain. And I’m not the only one with the black hole. I truly believe all the employees and the players have it.

Tournaments are a grind. They beat everyone into a mindless mass and there is no recuperation period. When one place isn’t having one, another one is and it just keeps revolving and rotating around in a spiraling vortex – straight into Tournament Hell. I’ve reached a point to where I HATE TOURNAMENTS.

I hit every high limit game in the room…I think. There were probably a few lurking somewhere that I missed. Thank my lucky stars if I did miss a few. I hit Bobby’s Room twice, Table 1 – $4,000-8,000 Mixed, Johnny C. – 1s, David B. – 2s, Gus H. – 3s, Barry G. – 4s, Chip R. – 7s. Woo Hoo! Yup…it’s such an honor to deal to them. Oh please, notice the sarcasm dripping off of each letter…believe me, it’s there.

A $200-400 H game played as fast as a $2-4 H game. Just raise, raise, raise – go to heads-up, more raise, raise, raise. Unreal how fast the high limit games play at times. One player got in two raises with a 5-3 suited and busted off A-A by catching runner, runner to make a straight. Umnnnhhhh!

A $400-800 7 stud game with Christoph in the 1s was a treat to deal…mainly because of him. He’s a long-time friend and hiker buddy. He lives in Europe and hasn’t been in town for around two years. His girlfriend, Monika, is here also and we are planning a hike at Big Falls and Mary Jane Falls at Mt. Charleston this weekend.

As the night moved on and I was mentally beat from the temperature in the room (it’s always like an oven on Thanksgiving Day, never cools off), the noise, the complete mind bending mass of bodies and games, and trying to keep my full concentration on the games at hand, I finally hit a $4-8 H game late in the night in which the 4s was glaring, zinging, and flinging. I did a slight confrontational thing with him when he was waving his hands in the air and mumbling. I looked right at him and said, “Beg your pardon!!!!”

He went into the ‘prayer mode’ – hands together in front of him – looking apologetic…until the next hand was dealt. A few hands later he was sputtering and ready to blow and I looked at him and said, “Deep breath! D-e-e-p breath!”

The 3s cracked up. A few more hands and noise and the 8s opened. The 4s wanted to move there…fine…please go. The Button was in the 7s and the 4s which was now the 8s wanted to know if he could post and be dealt in.

“Yes. Put in $4.”

The 2s loudly informed me that the 8s couldn’t be dealt in there unless he was willing to ‘buy the button’.

Too much high limit and very little patience on my part, I barked, “I work here everyday! I know the rules! And yes, he can put in $4 and be dealt in!”

A moment later I was biting my tongue for going off on this kid. I apologized. He kept his head down and didn’t look up during the rest of my down. Ouch! I hate it when I do that. As I left the game, I reached over and touched his hand, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

I hit my next game which was Table 10 in Bobby’s Room, four handed, $1,000-2,000 and it only lasted about ten minutes. Whew! It was a little after 2 a.m. and I was getting the Double Bust Out. Thank you, GOD!

I’m still not happy with myself for barking at that kid in the $4-8 game. I can use the excuse that I’m brain dead, tournament bashed and beat up, and out of energy for having any rational thought – but the bottom line is that I don’t need to behave that way. Players do it to me all the time but I don’t want to be like everyone else and retort without my brain guiding my mouth. I seriously, always, try to listen to how I sound when I say something. And in that instance, I was rude. There was no softness in my voice. I hate it when I do that.

*note to self: Always remember it costs nothing to soften your words and show understanding…even if they’re wrong, there’s no right in being right when it’s done incorrectly.*