The crew came to play cards Saturday night. We rammed and jammed through a million chips and miles of Big Deuce hands. Our group has grown. Maria and Mike (brother and sister) were welcomed in a few weeks ago. They both completed dealer’s school and came over for a little ‘in the box’ training. Of course we hooked them right into the Big Deuce game. We play double deck and it’s a bitch. Of course we added a few twists of our own for rules. And Wayne, Jim, and me are taking a deck of cards with us to Aruba…yes, we’re sick puppies.

Aruba is a heartbeat away. We leave Friday, early a.m., and don’t have to be anywhere until 8 p.m.ish on Saturday night. Then we may have to deal – live. Live? Yes, we are going to deal at the Radisson in live games – at least some of us are. We will deal mainly tournament but may be required to deal some live too.

I can hardly wait for this trip. There’s a two-mile section of beach (right out my back door at The Wyndham) that has my name on it every a.m. around 5. Then it’s a leisurely float/swim with the locals, possibly food, then sleep – so I can work my favorite shift, swing. Of course I’m going to opt for the E/O every night. It’s my life. That’s what I do when I’m on holidays.

I’ll be doing the ‘Aruba report’ here and taking pictures. I’m also going to try to keep up with articles and some pictures, focused on the Aruba trip, for the main pages of PokerWorks. And speaking of pictures, I love this one.

If this isn’t love, I don’t what is. This is my baby with his baby. Love those boys!

*****

Jim AKA The Monkey is in town. He’s working, but he’s also firing it up at the tables at Bellagio. We visit quite a bit about poker and the games. He puts a lot of humor into the fact that he’s struggling in the games. I give him an A+ for that. I find it hard to laugh when I’m getting trampled in the face by bad cards and my opponents can always find runner-runner to shove ‘bad beat-i-tis’ up my nose for days at a time.

I talked to him tonight when I went in to work. He was buried in a $30-60 H game.

An hour later I dealt a four handed $80-160 H game. The 5s was new to me and he mentioned to the 4s that the $30 games were really great at Bellagio.

My brain did auto pilot…’Ruh-roh, he’s been in a game with Jim.’

Sorry, Buddy. It was just an instant flash…then it disappeared…NOT!

The room was so quiet that when I’d dealt four games and was on break, my supervisor asked if I wanted to go home. I jumped on it. Kee-rist! I wish I was disciplined enough to say ‘no’ right now but it just ain’t gonna happen. I clocked out and stopped by to watch Jim carve a hole in A-A with A-8. He had chips, the game was short handed, and cross my fingers he has enough cash left to buy me a brew in Aruba. *laughing*

And while I’m talking poker, go to the main page, http://pokerworks.com and download the Titan Poker software, buy $20 worth of chips and register for a free roll. There’s money laying around everywhere. All you have to do is look for it…and playing good doesn’t hurt either.

*post – continued*

I ran out of steam after the $200-400 Mixed game – in both writing and in dealing – but it’s time to continue.

The next game was $10-20 NLH. The 2 and 8s were walking. I snagged $7 from each of their stacks before my butt hit the seat – asked for Time – the game was off and running.

A ‘play-over’ sat down in the 2s. The Play-over won two huge pots and the player returned for his seat. George. I felt terrible for him, I knew he was losing as a very small stack of chips remained in his absence and he returned with a stack of bills to fortify his position. He’s a great guy to deal to, even-tempered, never mean, and two of his children play at Bellagio also…a family affair.

The Play-over was stacking and racking, having won two huge pots.

George was grim; stating that he didn’t want anyone playing over him. He said that he’d only been gone a few minutes, when in truth, he’d been gone for almost half an hour. He said he was there when I sat down. He wasn’t. I reminded him that I’d had to take Time from his stack.

It’s got to be horrible to fade a losing streak and never win a hand and then return to watch someone sitting in your seat, racking up chips they’ve just won when you can’t snag the Blinds, let alone a pot.

He did win one pot before I left the box – it had over $2,000 in it. I hardly ever feel anything for anyone when I’m dealing and they are playing…that’s the game of poker…but I was happy for him that he’d managed a step forward instead of another step backward.

Then it was off to $40-80 Mixed. This little jewel was a slammer. The boys were there to gamble…and they did. David Williams was sitting behind the 2s off and on – nice smile!

Ahhh…let’s talk about $40-80 7-card stud. When I sat down, it was like being condemned to a half hour of hell. The only bright spot at the table was Chris M. and he was playing Troy’s chips while Troy visited with someone.

The 1s left and Nick jumped into it. The 2s – a stranger, the 3s has been around – name unknown, 4s – Gus, 5s – Troy, 6s open, 7s – General Jeff, 8s – aghhh…ouch…pain and grief…none other than Marty.

It started like this. Marty looked at three hands, stated, “My favorite dealer. Deal me out.”

Music to my ears, I’d love to deal him out forever. Numerous other posts about his unwonderfulness. He has to leave the table when Sylvia deals…cause he’s such an absolute idiot, he can’t shut up and just let the dealer deal.

The 3s managed to ‘snip’ his cards at my fingers on Fourth Street, with, “Oh…sorry!”

No he wasn’t. He tried to hit me with them

He did the snip thing again a few minutes later. I crabbily said, “Stop sending your cards in like that.”

He never said a word. He knew he was out of line.

Chris was animated, visited with me a little as I dealt, Marty took a walk, the game went on…nothing exciting.

Then Troy returned to claim his seat, Chris sat behind him, and Marty returned…ugh…it couldn’t get much worse…but it did.

Nick got involved in a big hand; semi begged everyone to get out so he could ‘finally’ win a pot. That didn’t work. He ended up heads-up with Gus a few minutes later and every time Gus bet, he showed Nick his hole cards…exposing an Ace that gave him Aces up with the Ace in his up cards. Nick finally folded.

They’re both Greek…maybe it’s a bonding thing. Gus is the one that kept chanting, “Shoot the dealer. But use a pistol, not a shotgun,” or something to that effect about six months ago. He thought he was being funny then, now I have no idea what he thought he was being.

Then the fertilizer hit the ventilator. Marty demanded to know why I was giving a mini-scramble before I put the cards in the Shuffle Master. I replied, “Because Gus likes it that way.”

And yes…that’s the reason. Gus always asks me if I would mind…when I first sit down.

Marty had a piss fit, “You have the Shuffle Master…”

Gus blurted, “Does it bother you?” looking at Marty.

I replied, “Everything bothers him.”

Gus to Marty, “Then why don’t you go take a laxative so you can get it out of your system?”

Marty clammed up…thank you, God!

Then Troy was calling a $40 completion on the Door Card, but put out six $5 chips, three $10 chips and reached back to his stack.

I declared, “Raise!”

Troy was flustered, “Hell no! I don’t want to raise. What do I need out there?”

I pushed back the two $10 chips. General Jeff called $40 and between three players, they built a huge pot. Troy won it.

Nick ended up going all-in a few hands later. At least that’s how I saw it. He called an $80 bet on the River and couldn’t win. He had about four miscellaneous chips of different colors hidden under his arm. He pulled our three $100 bills and pushed one out for the ante.

I told him he needed $400 to take a hand. (Yes…in $10-20 and higher, a player can have one short buy-in in an eight-hour period. But the short buy-in must be half the minimum buy-in, which is $800).

Gus took up in Nick’s defense, stating that Nick didn’t go all-in because he had a $5 and a $1 chip still (yes…$5 is the amount of the ante, and if he did in fact have a $5 chip left, he was entitled to buy $300) but even though I craned my neck, trying to look under Nick’s arm, he wouldn’t move or show that he had the $5 chip. Instead he mumbled, “If the player’s don’t mind…”

There was no mumbling on my part, “It’s not a player decision, it’s a house decision. You have to have $400 to come back in.”

By now I might have had $2 in my pocket and it was like watching Freddie keep coming back – year after year after year.

Nick snorted, “Deal me out then!” as he jumped up. He disappeared, leaving his chips on the table. But even then, looking at them, they were an odd assortment of bright blue, something shiny red, and none of them looked like Bellagio’s chips…so…get the hell out of here Nick. As in do I care?

A few hands passed, Troy won them, and The General went nutz-z-z-! His eyes were flashing and he was barking at me, “From now on, when he raises, you aren’t going to give him back chips and let him just call! He has to raise!”

WTF??? Oh – let’s jump back into The Poker Hand Time Machine. He was talking about the hand where Troy threw out the $5 chips and was trying to call.

It was laughable! I exclaimed, “There was no action behind him! You hadn’t acted. He doesn’t have to raise!”

The next dealer was tapping me out.

The General was livid…I had talked back to him…slap my mouth.

“Yes he does! He has to raise.”

The 3s piped in, “He said raise.”

I replied, “No, I said raise.”

The General went on, “Call the Floor Man. He has to raise.”

I said, “Well you’re a bit late for a decision. It’s over with.”

I looked at Troy as I squared the deck up for the next dealer, “The problem is you won the fucking hand. If you’d lost, it would have been ok.”

Troy said, “You’re right, darlin’.”

Marty jumped in, “There’s a dealer behind you.”

I said, “I don’t need to hear anything from you,” as I pushed out of the box.

Troy threw me a Red Bird. Yipppeee! $7 and all the heat and hell I could take. It just don’t get any better than this.

I told the incoming dealer that Nick needed $400 to get back in the game and that he’d gone all-in.

A few minutes later my butt’s in the seat of a $4-8 H game and these guys are actually smiling and laughing. WTF is wrong with them? Oh yeah…real people that have a life.

I had a front row seat, watched Nick return, the dealer called for a decision, and Dave appeared. I could hear him ask, “Who was the dealer?” as he looked around, everywhere but towards me.

I raised my arm. Nick started screaming at me, “Yes…(Greek swearing)…we know it was you…” a torrent of something came out his mouth as he got dealt in and Dave walked away.

Nick was still barking at me across the heads of my little $4-8 players and I called Nate over. I quickly explained what had happened at the last table and told him Nick was yelling and gesturing at me from the other game. Nate headed that way and Nick clammed up.

Well…as nightmares go and nights from hell never end, this little $4-8 game broke up and I got re-routed. Right back up to the $10-20 NLH game and then another round through $40-80 Mixed.

But the good news is that Pete didn’t need me for the Friday shift. Three days off, thank you, God!

*end post*

One night this week, I ran into all the games that I’d managed to skip for the last few months…there they were, a giant lump, with me pitched into the middle of it. Not dealing for almost a month probably made it a little easier to digest since it appeared to be more entertaining than irritating.

I started on 40B, meaning that within a half an hour, I would be dealing Bobby’s Room. The hardest part of dealing this game is the ‘prop’ bets that some of the players have. Good God…no…don’t think for a half a second I understand any of it, because I don’t. I really don’t have time to even try to think about it because it takes enough concentration just to deal the games and keep the bets straight, give change, and everything else that’s involved in dealing. About half of them were doing the ‘props’ and when they had certain cards, chips were flying through the air to the winner of the bet…along with chips that were being bet on the play of the hand. There were so many chips in transit sometimes I wasn’t sure if I should deal or wait or what the hell was going on.

Chau had a small, bright orange hazard cone by his chips that read I’M ON TILT and during one hand he set it out in front of him and raised. It was funny.

Jim M. was in the daily tournament – that was my next table. Sure…remember? He’s Silent Bob. Totally hysterical from my POV and true to form, he never stopped talking. It got down to Jim and a new player and they cut a deal, with Jim receiving the title of winning the tournament. I ran into Jim later in the night in an $80-160 H…more on that coming.

Table 5 was my next stop. $400-800 Mixed with Layne F., Lee S., Freddie D., David L., Jimmy W., Eskimo, Amir, and Will. Within the first few hands I dealt, Layne won a big pot and went into a ‘read her name tag…took you long enough, Linda…I knew it would happen someday…just didn’t know what year…’

It was funny. We’ve always had a little camaraderie because of the Montana thing.

Freddie had been walking and returned to the 5s. He was wearing some pretty sharp looking shades and Layne complimented him on them and then asked if they were prescription, etc. Freddie handed them to Layne, Layne put them on, and I put up the Flop – 3-3-3.

Layne exclaimed, “Oh my God! I could never wear these, I’m seeing triple!”

Everyone…including me…roared. Well, except for Eskimo and Jimmy.

The game was pretty intense and a lot of chips passed back and forth during my down…these guys were jamming. But they were easy on me and that is a good thing.

I hit a $2-5 NLH. It should have been a slice of pie but the 4s seemed to take a suggestion I made as being personal. He was standing up, looked at his cards, and raised it…and stayed standing. He was an older gent and quite tall. The chair and sitting was probably bothering him. Trying to be polite and not really knowing what a decision would bring, I said, “I don’t know if it’s the rule in this game, but in tournaments, you have to be in your seat or your hand is dead.”

He huffed at me, “Well I’ve been coming here for 30 years and that’s not the rule and this isn’t a tournament.”

Well kiss my grits! I replied, “This is my first day but I do know the difference between tournaments and side games.”

He clammed up and so did I. I’m not sure where he’d been going for 30 years but up until a few years ago, NLH was not a daily game in most casinos. And Bellagio opened in 98…let’s see…30 years?

Next on the list was the $80-160 H with Jim M. in the 1s. He had me laughing through most of my down, talking non-stop, and going through all kinds of faked emotional stress over the 4s’s girlfriend/sweater that had her chest pretty much bared to the world. At first Jim made a comment to her that he was old enough to be her granddad and he couldn’t stand to look. He lowered his head and put his hand out like a blinder while he talked shit for the next few hands. Shit talking? Like asking the 4s to have her zip up the sweat top a little bit. She was giggling and laughing. She did zip it up a little, and then he asked her to unzip it a little.

Sometimes in Vegas where you see it all, I really wish you didn’t see a lot of it. It was embarrassing. More so to the girl, IMHO.

And Jim put the icing on the cake when he said, to me, “I bet those aren’t the tits her mother gave her.”

Then it was off to a three handed, $200-400 Mixed game with K.K., Jimmy G., and David L. Ugh! Jimmy was having one of his bad days and it’s difficult to deal with his attitude and comments. He always acts like it’s something personal going on between the dealer and him…like the moon is out of sync and it’s causing a reaction of discord or something bizarre is throwing the elements out of whack, when in essence, it’s just the run of the cards.

The strangest part of this game was during an A-5 hand in which David was the Button. K.K. discarded two, Jimmy tapped ‘pat’, and just as David discarded two, Jimmy discarded one. Huge turmoil. David and Jimmy were going back and forth…Jimmy arguing that he’d misread his hand, David arguing that Jimmy waited until he knew David was drawing two, Jimmy doing a, “Do you want me not to draw?”

It was obvious David wasn’t happy with the way the hand was going so why argue about it. I called for a decision.

Before the Floor got there, David was conceding that Jimmy needed to leave the discard away from the muck and have someone verify that it was a legitimate misread. Well hello, Layne! Layne bounced over from Table 5, looked at Jimmy’s remaining four cards and the discard, and declared, “Absolutely. There’s no question about it!”

Ok…damn it! The Floor arrived, it was too late, and the boys all agreed that if Layne said so, it was legitimate so the game went on. And yes…Jimmy won the hand.

*post-poned*

1) I dealt a $30-60 H in which the 10s picked up A-A and raised every street – even though he got raised by the 4s and the 4s had raised pre-flop, with the Flop holding Q-little-little. The 10s never slowed down, he couldn’t seem to give the 4s credit for having anything. The pot was huge, multi-way action until the River when everyone else missed their draw. The 4s turned over Q-Q, showing a Set.

The 9s had his cards in his hands and did a fake rip/tear and snarled, “If I ever win a fucking pot in this fucking place….” As he flip, twitched the cards a few seconds longer and then pitched them at the muck.

The 4s tipped me and when I said, “Thank you,” the 10s muttered, “You’d better thank him.”

Like – NO SHIT!

The 10s went on to get K-K beat by A-J off, and a few other hands that were ugly…but he couldn’t slow down. He raised and re-raised every hand.

We had players on the way from a broken game and at the end of a hand, I asked the 5 and 6s to square up as we were going to be ten handed. The 10s snapped, “How about if you just deal the next hand.”

I replied, “How about if you let me do my job, I’m pretty good at it.”

He didn’t say another word until I left the table, then he muttered something like, “Thanks for stopping by…”

I didn’t even waste my breath on a reply.

2) I hit a $40-80 Mixed Game. The 1s had a yellow button and hadn’t played a hand yet. He took the BB when I sat down. It was Omaha 8 or Better, the chips were flying in a four-way action pot, one winner…it wasn’t the 1s. He immediately did a, “Fucking bullshit…nothing ever fucking changes!” as he did the flip/twitch/jerk with his cards.

I said, “Ease up!”

He stopped with the swearing and settled in to play poker.

I know it’s not funny but yes it is. It’s something that should go in a TV show or movie, the real world of poker, as it really happens, not like the glitz and fritz that most people believe poker is all about. In truth, you get to see the worst side of people when they are at the table. (Sure, lots of them have their poker faces on and you see their good side all the time but I believe when a lot of the poker faces take a beat, they would like to react exactly like the person that’s ‘exposing their worst side’).

When I play, there are times I want to flip out and pitch my cards across the room. The long run of beats just make you wonder if you know anything about poker. Of course when you get to that point, you’ve lost it. I try to recognize all the factors that are nudging me in that direction and either take a long walk or just head for home for the night…sometimes for two or three weeks so I can kick it all out of my head and start over the next time I play.

Since I’ve been there a zillion times, watching someone else do it makes me want to laugh…probably more so at myself than at them.

A momentary outburst from a player doesn’t bother me, I understand it, but the following type of behavior, I can’t tolerate under any circumstance.

I settled into a $2-5 NLH game, all guys. The 5s was at least 6’5″, weighing somewhere around 300 lbs.; dressed in all black with ‘party poker’ on his shirt, a long neck chain that held a BIG gold cross, a black baseball cap that read something like ‘terminator’ or ‘prosecutor’ or something that I’d relate to vengeance or pain, dark sunglasses, a dark, short beard, and a giant prescription bottle on the table in front of him that he used to cap his cards with. His whole image was threatening.

There was no laughter or fun going on at this table; it was dark and quiet, as if everyone was waiting for the bomb to hit.

About three hands into my Down, the 4 and 5s had a small pre-flop raising war. The 4s check raised with an all-in bet on the Flop. The 5s instantly picked his cards up and did the high overhead, slam-dunk-splat into the rack with them. The cards did a bounce into the side of my hand.

I bored a look right through those sunglasses and demanded, “Just set your cards down!”

He was instant asshole; “I put them in the muck.”

I pushed the pot and said, “Just set them down.”

“I’ll fold however I want.”

“No…you won’t. Just set your cards down.”

“Call the Floor Man if you don’t like it.”

“I have a lot of experience with calling the Floor Man. Just set your cards down.”

He then did a totally stupid thing, “How do you want me to fold them?

I picked up two cards, tossed them gently in front of him, and said, “Like this,” and then picked them up and did the high overhead, slam-dunk-splat with them right between his hands and his chips and exclaimed, “Not like this!”

Did I forget to add that by now I was pissed? No one at the table said a word in my defense and the 5s was totally threatening with the move he made when he threw his cards.

A few hands later, the 4s threw his cards in and one of them skipped a little and flipped up when it the muck.

The 5s couldn’t wait to jump on that, “Now you’re throwing things at her.”

The 4s quickly said, “It was an accident.”

The 5s said, “Oh…it’s ok if it’s an accident.”

I was still pissed. I said, “That’s enough. Just drop it!”

The 5s said, “I didn’t hit you with the cards.”

I said, “Yes you did. I’m not here to argue with you, I’m here to deal poker. Just play the game.”

It stopped there. Until a few hands before I got pushed. The 9s was feeling something for the 5s – maybe he wanted a date later…hell if I know.

The 9s made a comment like, “Chris Ferguson can throw cards.”

The 5s chortled something that meant he’d found an ally. I ignored them both. When I got pushed, I stopped by the 9s and said, “I’ve dealt to Chris Ferguson. He NEVER throws cards.”

The 9s informed me that I was too hard on the 5s, they were losing money there and I shouldn’t have been so harsh with him.

Sh-e-e-e-it! If I’d been harsh with him, I’d have pulled out a gun and shot him. All I did was stop the crap – not only for myself but the dealers following me.

I queried, “Really? There’s no reason for anyone to do that.”

The 10s stated that he totally agreed with me – well hell…why didn’t he say something when the shit was going on?

The 9s went on to tell me that I should have been softer about it and another dealer would have been.

I said, “You should try sitting there sometime,” as I pointed at the box. I left.

Maybe the 9s could see himself in the 5s’s position, just as I could see myself in the previous accounts, and that’s why he was so sympathetic. Maybe they’re both sick in the head. IMHO, if they think slamming the cards at the dealer is the answer, they need to do something else to release that aggression before they take a seat in a card game.

A replay of one night last week – I’ve mentioned Shaunie before and she continues her role as a spoiled princess believing that poker was invented for her to do as she wishes even if the rest of the world has to conform. Check this post.

I slid into the Box, a full $30-60 H table, and Shaunie was gracing the poker room with her presence by playing in the 5s. The 7s, a man unknown to me, had a $20 bill on the table underneath his small stack of chips. I told him the bill had to come off the table – only $100 bills were allowed. He informed me that it was his lucky $20. Well hell…if it was he needed to ditch it anyway, he had very little left in the way of chips.

I said, “Lucky or not, it can’t be on the table, only $100 bills are allowed.”

He asked me why, I explained that when a player sees a bill on the table, they know it’s $100 and how much is going to play in a hand, that’s why we have the rule.

He removed it, without a grumble or a twitch.

As I asked for Time from each player, I noticed that our darling of the poker room, Miss Shaunie herself, had a $1.00 bill under her stacks of chips. I know her and me are going to have a problem because rules do not apply to her. But I’m a persistent bitch. I said, “Honey, the $1.00 bill has to come off the table.”

She said, “I’ll just slide it under my chips so know one can see it’s a $1.00 bill.”

Yeah…right. That’s the whole reason for the $100 bill rule. Now I might have been a little terse when I snapped, “No you won’t. You’ll take it off the table. I just asked this gentleman to remove his $20,” as I motioned at the 7s. “So how could I allow you to leave yours on the table?”

She pouted, “I’ll just leave the game then.”

I said, “Ok! Your choice.”

She snapped, “Call the Floor Man.”

Shit! Wonder where she’s from? Shaunie Land, maybe.

Carmen was a few feet away and I called her. I explained that I had just asked the 7s to remove a $20 and when I asked the 5s to remove the $1.00 bill, she wanted a floor person.

Carmen told her to take it off the table – NOW!

Shaunie said she would quit.

Carmen said, “Fine,” and left to help a customer.

Shaunie announced that she would just go to another game and put the bill back on the table. She racked up to leave and as she did, she waved at me, “She’s always mean to me.”

I replied, “I’m not mean to anyone.”

“Yes, you are. You are always mean to me.”

Me, “No I’m not. You just never think the rules apply to you.”

*Good bye, Shaunie*

The table was mystified as to why she couldn’t abide by the rule…since it was a rule and everyone knew it.

Donna was in the 3s. She said, “She’s the kind of person that gives women poker players a bad name.”

RIGHT ON, DONNA!

The 7s went on a rush. Damn good thing he got rid of that lucky $20.00.

When I got pushed, I told Carmen that Shaunie said she would just go to another table and put the bill back on with her chips.

It was hysterical. Carmen’s eyes picked up twinkle as she started searching the tables in the room, “Where is she?”

*laughing my butt off*

A day of horrible tragedy and sadness, world changing events, and immeasurable stress and strife for mankind – my first memory of this date is my sis calling me and telling me that one of the World Trade Center Buildings had just collapsed. Thinking about it, replaying my own emotional horror, brings sadness flooding into my heart and a total lack of understanding in how we treat each other in the manner we do…and for what? In the long run of it all, what’s the bottom line?

A poem written for that day:

*****

THE DEATH OF PEACE

Where peace once stood and freedom rang, the people hid, the sky stood gray.

The world was dark, its depth untold, the night had come to stay.

Sorrow ran in molten tears, no children came to play.

Peace had died, mankind slain, on one September day.

*****

Life is so much easier and fulfilling if we are at peace with ourselves, and in being there, we are at peace with everything else.

Let us each treasure and appreciate what we have, strive to be better than we are, learn how to deal with ourselves so that we can better deal with others, and find compassion and strength within so that we may bless those we love and be a monument in times of need.

Peace to all.

It’s really difficult for me to believe – even when I stop and sort through all the memories and great times I’ve stored in my thoughts – but as of today, I’ve been back in the employment of Bellagio/Mirage for eleven years. I opened The Mirage in 1989, left in April of 1993 to open The Gulfport Grand in Gulfport Mississippi, (And good God!!!! Yes…I’m so glad I’m not there now!), and returned to Vegas in April of 1994. Where in the hell did those years go? My life feels like it’s on fast forward. Everything speeds by and I chase the small Time Tendrils, trying to hold onto every moment, taste it, feel it, breathe it, live it, and absorb it into my being to be savored when something jolts my thoughts and reminds me of another time, another day, another fleeting moment that I can never have again.

*****

Well here I am. Right back in a Time Warp with a few players that I had hoped would disappear. These players are not part of the small Time Tendrils…they are more like giant, vacuous spaces that destroy the best parts of time. One of them is Sam. A Mirage player for years – came with us to Bellagio – horrible attitude and it’s always the dealer’s fault. If an earthquake shook the building, it would be the dealer’s fault. Hell, there may be a major Dealer Fault Line running right under Bellagio, creating tremors and aftershocks that are too big to register on the Richter Scale and Sam may be one of the few players that knows it’s there. But Sam is back, after being 86’d for some time, he’s haunting the card tables again…or the card tables are haunting him. He’s glaring and staring his way through $30-60 H and from what I heard last night, he may be right on the edge of the Dealer Fault Line again…as in close to leaving us for another few years. Shit! Do they ever learn? In Sam’s case, apparently not. I’ve dealt to him a few times and last night found him in a game in my line-up…he’s not been out of line during my downs but his grim face leaves me wishing he’d find another avenue for self inflicted pain.

Another one that hit my line-up last night and has been a major pain in the butt since The Mirage Days; played regularly at Bellagio up until a few years ago, had to destroy a down for me. I would have to give him ‘No Name’ because I don’t know his name, don’t want to know it, can’t believe his mother ever gave him one…he’s such a piece of shit. I rarely try to tip the scales of life by being brutally cold about a person’s value in life, but this guy is beyond the realm of how I feel about my fellow man/woman. He’s a Creep Freak. He used to be a Box Man at The Mirage…or so I’ve been told. Even when he played at The Mirage, he was still employed by The Mirage, and he couldn’t wait to come into the poker room to torment dealers…all this in $3-6 and $4-8 Limit although I’ve seen him play as high as $8-16. Whoopee! He will have to be C.F. (Creep Freak) for this writing. And I believe I’ve posted about him before…but DAMNIT…if I didn’t, I should have.

He’s in the 5s of $4-8 H. He glares at me when I take the Dealer’s Chair. Quite seriously, he’s thinner, older, and he reminds me of what I would imagine Satan to look like if he were in human form. C.F. plays every hand. He wins a pot with about $50 in it. He doesn’t tip…I didn’t expect him to.

There are a few players that if they tipped me, I would be highly disappointed. I would have to restructure my thought on them because it would blow apart everything I’ve learned about them…and I would have to tell them, “Thank you!” No…NO, Mrs. Wizard…do not make me tell them thank you. Thank you, Mrs. Wizard for keeping them in the same safe dark hole I’ve placed them in and not allowing them to come out in the light.

Everyone else at the table is a new face, relaxed and playing poker…but not C.F. It only takes him a few hands to start feigning deafness as a problem for not hearing me say, “$4 to call.” This is an ongoing thing with him each time I’ve dealt to him for over the last ten years or so, If he’s really that hard of hearing, why doesn’t he get a hearing aid? To easy! How could he make everyone else miserable if he couldn’t act like he was unable to communicate? He knows exactly where the action is and how much it is to him, he just likes to disrupt the game, act likes he’s being persecuted by life in general, and act like an overall asshole. BTW…he does the ‘overall asshole’ almost better than anyone I’ve ever met.

C.F. had a $100 bill under his very short stack of chips; had two $1 chips out for his SB; the bet was raised, it was $6 for him to call. He pushed out the $100 bill. I counted out the chips from the rack, stacked three stacks of $5 chips in stacks of five, spread three $5 chips on the side, and four $1 chips, and pushed them in front of him, showing a neat little $94 in change and leaving $8 in front of him for the call.

C.F. stared at his change, rifled through it – then declared that I didn’t do it right. There were six other players in the hand, all their bets were in front of them, nothing had been pulled into the pot, and I went through the process of explaining his change.

“WHAT?” His glare focused on me.

He can’t fucking hear. Right? Yeah, right!

I explained it all again, patiently counting out all of his chips, showing him the stacks of five, the odd three, the four $1 chips – the correct change.

“WELL…IT’S NOT RIGHT!”

I did it all again. Several players chimed in and told him it was right. He argued. I called the Floor. I got Skip. I explained the situation to Skip. Skip told him it was right.

“NO, IT’S NOT RIGHT. MY CHANGE ISN’T RIGHT!”

By now I was yelling…maybe it was to make him hear me or maybe it was because I wanted to knock him off his chair…and maybe that’s where he wanted me. Sure…I thought about that too. I explained, loudly, that he had $102 in the pot, that he now had $94 in change.

After shuffling through the stacks, he noticed the three odd $5 chips, like they materialized out of thin air. “Oh…I didn’t see this one,” pointing at one of the $5 chips.

No Shit! Maybe it was put there by Lance Burton.

Before Skip left the table, he told C.F. that he was going to have to listen to the dealer and pay attention. Even after the pot had been pushed and we were on to the next hand, C.F. kept looking at his chips and mumbling. A few hands later, when he was one off of the Button, the bet was $8 to him, I looked at him and said, “Eight to call.”

He said, “I check.”

I didn’t even crack a smile or change my tone of voice, “It’s eight to call,” as I gestured at the eight $1 chips in front of the 8s.

He snarled, “Did he bet?”

“No dip-shit, the Chip Fairy just threw those chips out on the table,” that was what I wanted to say but instead I said, “Yes, $8 to call.”

He snapped out, “Well, you are supposed to tell me he bet, that’s your job.”

I screamed for Skip. When Skip arrived behind me, I explained. Skip told C.F. that he was going to have to follow the action and pay attention to the game. And listen to the dealer. The problems stopped. C.F. knew what was going on all the time. He also knew the Floor Person wasn’t going to put up with anymore of his antics so he simply stopped.

In the meantime, Cheryl was in a game two games away from my line-up. Another one of those people that I wish would just go somewhere else and do something different with their lives. She hasn’t been around for a while and I certainly haven’t missed her. She could be a beauty queen but she chooses to dress like one and behave like a trash mouthed slut that thinks the world revolves around her rosy red ass…maybe it does when she’s not in Poker Land…but she’s a horror to play with and deal to. She had the whole table worked up into a mad dog frenzy…I could hear her and them while I dealt the game with C.F. in it.

I got pushed, took a break, and hit my next game – right behind the game I just came out of…I had a front row seat to watch C.F. and his antics. And Cheryl moved into the 1s in that game. I got a new player in the 5s in my game. He wasn’t new to me…he’d just left the game that Cheryl left and he didn’t have any kind words for her. D-a-m-n! Ain’t she a charmer?

About half way through this down, C.F. went ballist-i-co. He had to have gone broke or picked up what few chips he had left and gave up his seat. But he didn’t leave. He stood behind the 6s, yelling – it appeared to be at the dealer because he was glaring that way. The vile mouth moved continuously (I couldn’t hear what he said but I could sure as hell imagine what was going on there) as the demon eyes focused on the dealer. It went on for about five minutes.

Leslie, Floor Person, walked up to the table, listened/half looked at C.F. and then started to walk away. I called her back. I couldn’t imagine the dealer not calling for a floor to get C.F. out of there but whatever the case – enough was enough. When Leslie walked up behind me, I explained that the floor had already been called on C.F. twice when I was dealing that game and he shouldn’t be allowed to stand there and glare/yell at the dealer. Leslie started to move in his direction and he drifted off.

When I hit my next table, (those three tables are in an L shape), C.F. walked up by the original table to glare at everyone. Then he walked over to the table I was dealing at and glared at me. I started laughing. He finally moved off again – hopefully he found the entrance to the hole he crawled out of. And if he did, I sure as hell hope that entrance is sealed off if I hit the Time Warp again.

I hit the final table of the daily tournament at 7:30 p.m. – my first game of the night – and it was six handed. The antes were $100, the Blinds at $600 and $1200. The 2s went bust and the other players dug into their pockets and gave him $100 each – some kind of deal made between them. Soon another player was gone…it was a Dead Button but the 5s argued with me that he had been the Small Blind the hand before and it should be his button. He and the 6s were in a continual, noisy conversation and it was hard to even get their attention for the antes each hand…so I wondered what my chances were of convincing him he was the Small Blind. It was finally settled when the 3s piped up and said it was his Button.

The 5s told me I was right and it wasn’t a problem – all in good humor.

And I politely said, “Then shut the fuck up and play,â€? – all in good humor.

This has to be done with just the right group and just the right tone, it was. They roared!

The 5s meekly said, “Yes, Miss Linda.â€?

They bashed chips around the table for a few more minutes and then decided to just split the whole prize pool four ways. The 6s stated that would give them over $5,000 each and a little change and they should just give that to the dealers.

The 7s blurted out, “The dealers already get 3% of the prize. They don’t need anymore.â€?

The 5s made some comment about dealers getting 3% and the 3s added his point of view, “I didn’t know they already got 3%. They don’t need anymore than that.â€?

I threw in a comment here, “The 3% is split up between the whole poker room staff, it does not just go to the dealers.â€?

The 6s said that he was trying to get something for the dealers and I told him – rather loudly – that any tip I got was really appreciated and thanked him for his effort. It fell on deaf ears.

One simple question – what is wrong with some of you people? Why is it so difficult to just SHUT UP if you don’t want to tip? I don’t cut into your action by telling a newbie to take his money home and not play against you so stop cutting into mine. If you don’t want to tip, don’t. But if someone else does, SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Just in case any of you are interested, this is how it goes: The 3% is split in different percentages, the Tournament Directors get their share, then Floor Supervisors, Chip Runners, and Cashiers receive some of it. Then all the dealer downs are totaled and it’s broken down per down for the dealers. If someone leaves a tip for the Tournament Director, it goes into his or her pocket. If someone leaves a tip for the dealers, the Tournament Director gets a slice of that before it is broken down into dealer downs and disbursed. So please don’t think the dealers are getting a huge chunk of change out of the 3%, it just ain’t happening, Kids.

*****
On to a subject I like better – Wall art!

This one is taken at the Wyndham in Aruba. It’s all bottle caps, smashed, and arranged on the wall.

The close up:

This one is taken at the University of Montana; it adorns the side of a building.

Time for sleep…Sandwoman Land is calling.

*Introduction to Mr. Intelli-rock*

Not because he plays tight but his sense of reasoning resembles that of a rock – absolutely no brain waves going on in there. He’s been around the poker scene for years and nothing much changes with him. I believe his name is Frenchie but I haven’t taken the time to find out because I feel better when Intelli-rocks are generic. His game is mostly $30-60 or $40-80 7 Card Stud, sprinkle in a little Holdem now and then. He can usually find a reason to go off on a dealer when he’s losing – I’ve managed to miss his ugly Intelli-rock side for quite awhile now but he jumped right into it last night.

I slid into the box in a full $40-80 Stud game. The 2s was racking up; Nick – 8s -immediately requested the 2s. Nick isn’t a bundle of joy either so it’s pretty close to a toss up as to which one would win the Intelli-rock of The Year Award. As soon as the 2s’s butt left the chair, Frenchie- 5s – jumped up, taking his single stack of chips with him, and headed for the 2s. Nick was still racking his chips for the move. Frenchie sat down and put out his ante.

Nick was bristling and demanded that I tell Frenchie to move. I told Frenchie that Nick has asked for the seat. I got an explosive argument from Frenchie stating that he had asked for the seat first and Nick wasn’t even there.

Nick demanded a decision, I called for one, Dave came over and before I got three words out of my mouth, Frenchie was arguing with me. Dave intervened, Nick stated that he had asked the last dealer and Dave just disappeared. Actually he went to ask the last dealer to verify but no one knew that. So we waited.

Dave came back and said the seat belonged to Nick as the last dealer verified the request. Nick moved, Frenchie jumped up and took Nick’s seat. The game went on. Of course Nick won the first five or six hands and then went out to smoke. The 4s said, “Look at the seat you gave up.”

Frenchie declared, “Linda let him have it.”

I wanted to laugh. Instead I said, “Me?”

Frenchie, “Yes, you. You let him have the seat. He didn’t ask you for it.”

“Yes he did. And I really don’t know why you would think I cared who got what seat.”

That was the end of it, except for his glaring at the side of my head, slamming his cards at the pot once and I told him to set his hand down, his mumbling now and then, and then…mercy of mercies, he busted out and left.

*End introduction to Mr. Intelli-rock*

Intelli-rocks are everywhere…Beware!!! And some of them work or have worked in a casino…including Frenchie!!!

*****
I have stayed away from writing any thoughts on the tragedy in our country, mainly because I can’t bear to watch it or hear about it. Yes, I’m an ostrich with my head in the sand. But my being emotionally distraught will not change the situation or make it go away so I choose the path that works for me.

There are a lot of poker sites that are running charity tournaments but the times of day the tournaments are running are not in my free time so I am making a donation. Give all you can, including prayers and thoughts for everyone in need.

The IPF, poker forum, has been incorporated into the PokerWorks family. Please excuse and work with any problems in signing in and topics. Things will be working better than ever shortly.

*****
I may be the only person in the world of online poker that this has ever happened to…it’s so bizarre and extreme that I have to report it. I was flirting in and out of Single Table NLH Tournaments and playing $2-4 Bad Beat Jackpot Holdem.

When hand # 2657378543 hit, I held the 9-5 of Spades. The Flop came 2C, 10D, 6S. Everyone checked. The 9C came on the Turn, I bet, and got a caller. The River came 10S. I bet again and got a caller. I won the pot – it had $22 in it.

The game froze. The Board cards were still up, my hand was still up, but nothing happened. I finally typed in the chat, asking if it was just me or if the game froze. Several people replied stating it was the game. Almost 10 minutes passed. No one wanted to leave the game as the jackpot was huge and I especially didn’t want to leave because I’d won the pot and it hadn’t been awarded to me yet.

A dealer message came across the chat, ‘this table is being closed for maintenance, we suggest you find another table’ or something to that effect. Everyone left, including me. About 15 minutes later I received this email from Party:

*Begin email*

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Monday, September 05, 2005 6:16 AM
Subject: We’re Sorry – Game Money Refunded to Your Account

Dear IsleofPoker,

We apologize for the disruption you encountered at ‘Bad Beat Jackpot #1055710’ table on 09/05/2005.

Our records indicate that you had $124.75 at the start of that game. As a result of the disruption, that game has been construed as a ‘misdeal’ and we have refunded the money back to your Account.

We greatly appreciate your support and thank you for playing at PartyPoker.com.

If you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to contact us. Our Customer Care Department is open 24/7 and we look forward to serving you.

Sincerely Yours,
Lucy Jones
Customer Care Manager
Party Poker
[email protected]
+1 (800) 852-4719 (Toll Free from US/CAN)
+350 50509 (International Charges Apply)

*End email*

Hells bells!!! I may be the only person that ever won a pot in online poker and then had the hand declared a misdeal. Sweet! It just don’t get any better than this!

Hey…maybe I am the live one…in live and online play. *pondering*