I find it almost too coincidentally bizarre that I’ve been trying to escape the dealing life by all the changes in my life – escape hatch is arranged, I just need additional funding to kick it off – and when the tournament hits (which is one of the times I really hate to deal the most), I’m going to run into this clown in a $5-10 NLH game. But the night just went to hell in a hand basket so why not continue in the same thread?

Clown was in the 6s, about $500 + in front of him. A little European beauty was in the 3s and – from the talk at the table – she had beaten Clown in a large pot before I sat down. Clown used it as a flirtation tool, trying to draw her out; she politely smiled from time to time and mostly managed to ignore him. The more Clown talked about the hand, the more he stretched out and apparently thrashed because his foot went into my shin. It took me more than one attempt to get his attention because he had center stage and was determined to keep it. I managed to get through to him that he had kicked me. He was fairly charming and did a ‘sorry’ kind of thing and moved his foot. But within the next five minutes, the same thing happened again – his focus was still on the 3s.

I said, “Hey! Romeo, that’s me you’re kicking again.”

He sat up a little in his chair and kind of apologized again. But within a few minutes, as the conversation continued, he stated that he was from LA and there, they kick dealers on purpose. Charm – Schmarm went right out the window with me. I ignored that comment and dealt.

Al – he’s from MT – was in the 1s, he’s spent his seasons in the poker arena and while he can have his ‘beat’ angers, he’s pretty even keeled and knows the score. He shared a ‘look’ with me more than once over Clown’s antics. Al and the 2s were the only players at the table that I knew.

The 3s was called to the Main Game. The only reason for Clown to even act like he’s a charming, nice guy just left the table. Clown raised pre-flop with A-10 off from middle position – I believe it went to $30. The 4s called with the Q-J D. The Flop brought 10-8-3 with two Diamonds. The 4s checked, Clown bet – I believe it was around $60.

Clown blurted out, “If I lose this hand, I’m leaving.”

Al dryly remarked, “Tell Dave we have a seat open, Linda.” *chuckling*

The Turn brought a blank. The 4s checked – Clown bet $300. Count it out – the 4s called without hesitation. The River brought a Jack. The 4s checked and so did Clown. I pushed the pot to the 4s. Clown did an exasperated hands in the air move while he exclaimed, “I’m never tipping this fucker!”

I was even willing to let that go…I understand poker…been there…done that. NOT on blaming the dealer type of thing, but the rest of it is definitely part of my history of playing and dealing. But then Clown continued with mumbling and said ‘fuck’ again. I said, “You have to watch your language.”

He didn’t swear again but he couldn’t let it go. He made the comment that the players in Vegas were as bad as the players in LA and he didn’t know how anyone could make that call and finished with, “I’m never tipping this dealer again.”

Get a grip on life. Get real. Get in line. I’ve been stiffed by experts. You are nothing more than a speck of moisture expelled in discourteous sneezer’s blast of air as it moves by my head. That $1 you were going to give me is really going to change my income bracket. NOT! And I’m happy you aren’t tipping me if you’re an asshole. I never want to tell an asshole thank you for anything.

But that statement was the straw. I completely stopped moving. Each word was clipped and delivered without fanfare or anger, “This stops right now. Tipping is an option. You do not have to tip. But you are not going to discuss it at the table.”

He didn’t even look at me. Of course not! I wouldn’t expect it to be any other way. He pulled out $100 bills and put them on the table. I asked him if he would like chips. He ignored me like I was fluff on a piece of dust floating by in the universe. He made himself look like an idiot. And why couldn’t he be a man of his word and just LEAVE! Instead I had to deal to him for another 20 minutes. I did push him several pots. He did NOT tip me. YOO HOO! Saved from saying ‘thank you’ and not meaning it.

The game was hard to deal for several reasons. A new player took the 5s. He never knew when the bet was to him, he always looked at me and I nodded my head when it was his turn. The 7s was pretty close in not knowing when it was his turn also but he must have taken ‘rude’ lessons from Clown. A few minutes after the ordeal with Clown, the 2s raised pre-flop, the 7s called. The 2s bet $20 on the Flop – two $10 chips. The 7s called $10 – putting in one $10 chip. I told him it was $20 to call and he owed $10 more to the pot. He took a stack of $10 chips and splashed them out into the middle. I pushed them back, leaving two chips in front of him, and told him he could only call.

The 2s asked, “What just happened there?”

I explained that the 7s changed his mind and wanted to raise and couldn’t. Long and short of it, the 2s won the pot, and THEN the 7s wanted to know why he couldn’t raise. I explained that he couldn’t call part of a bet and then decide he wanted to raise, he would have to raise when the action came to him not after as an afterthought. He did a ‘what?’ thing and I repeated it, yelling by now, as we were right beside the rail and the noise of the room with the machines outside the rail, made it almost impossible to hear anything.

He rudely and abruptly informed me that he couldn’t hear me and that I was out of line for not talking so he could hear me.

*stifling laughter* I replied, “I am yelling right now! I can’t explain it any louder than that!”

The 10s even started laughing over that one.

The 7s bit my head off a few minutes later when I told him the action was to him. “Can I have a minute to look at my cards?” in an abrupt, angry manner. And every time he called or bet after that, he splashed his chips across the table. He won a few pots and didn’t tip either. It really was a relief to get pushed out of this game. And I went to my supervisor and ratted Clown out just to help out other dealers if they called the floor on him.

My last game of the night was in Bobby’s Room. A guy named Art and Sam Farha playing heads-up, $200-400 PLO, and Art always got the Button, even though the blinds changed each hand – Sam would be the SB one hand and the BB the next. I’m not sure what the advantage was there. Maybe someone can explain it to me. It would be an advantage if Sam had to fade the BB every hand but this way…

Minh approached the table and wanted to play. They said it was fine, just as long as Minh knew that Art would have the Button every hand. Minh walked away. I dealt for 10 minutes and got pushed. The magic E/O, after six hours I was out of the line-up.

Chris Fargis has been in playing every night. He greeted me on Monday night with a hug. We visited about poker playing – mainly his – and how much longer I would be punching the time clock, and agreed that we would have to have a picture taking session. We finally managed the time when I was off the clock and he was out of a hand. Nice hug!

****

A poker icon has passed. Puggy Pearson is gone. The only word I’ve heard is that it was natural causes, aging took its toll. I can’t help but wonder if he left, swearing at the Card Fairy for putting the final bad beat on him, somewhere in the nether world of Pokerdom. From my side of the green felt, he will not be missed.

*****

And Sam Grizzle has finally surfaced again. I saw him in the flesh, gabbing and yakking it up around the room with a select few. He wasn’t in a game though. Someone mentioned that they’d seen him a few days ago. Wow! How did I miss that one? He’s like a bad penny, I usually end up with him somewhere on my dance card when I deal.