Hey…it just don’t get any better than this. Now I’m a ‘drunken dealer’. I was in a $15-30H game on Thursday night, finally had an ‘ultra’ about 10:30ish, it took me close to 45 minutes to drink it down to about an inch and half left in the bottom…hate that part. It always reminds me of sucking warm spit. I got the 2nd Ultra, it was full, and managed to lift my handbag up to the edge of the table, hit the bottle, and spill about half of it on to the table top in front of the 7 and 8s – I was in the 9. Umnhhh! Don’t worry, I got a comment from the 4s about the ‘drunken dealers’.
Perhaps it was meant in jest. Perhaps I’m just overly sensitive to the fact that I can’t be just ‘Linda’, or a ‘Player’ because I have to be a ‘dealer’ and dealers can never step out of their position or hope to achieve status as anything but a dealer. Yup…I just decided…I’m too sensitive. But even an hour later when the player on my right decided to go home, the 4s made another comment that went something like, “You just can’t stand sitting next to a drunken dealer…”
*Aghhh-phhht!*
Yes…there’s a beer ball in my throat. To start with, I wasn’t even close to being drunk. Secondly, I spill more waters, cokes, coffees, teas, than I ever do alcoholic drinks. When I knocked over my brew, I jumped up and went for towels, mopping up the green felt as best I could. Not only do I make a mess, I clean also; and I’ve done it for others when they spill a drink.
To which we could ask, “Why are there no drink holders anywhere in the room?”
Answer: There just ain’t!
All in all, this particular playing session was quite bizarre in more ways than one. The game was never full or settled. People popped in and out like flies at dehorning time on a cattle ranch. Shortly after I mopped up my brew mess, and the 7 and 8s left the game, the 10s came back and picked up. I was on one end by myself, watching the other players and thinking I should just leave the game and as I racked up, state, “This dealer is too drunk to play.” The other side of my brain went, ‘Bullshit! You are not going to leave the game because of someone’s comments and you are still as qualified to take the chips as anyone else here…settle down and play’.
A new player took the 7s and another new face sat down in the 8s. I looked down to Q-4 Clubs in the SB. I called $5 more…that’s the down side (or upside depending on however you choose to view it) of $15-30. The Flop brought Q-8-3, with two Spades. I checked and three other players behind me checked also. The new guy – 7s, bet. I called. So did the other three players. The Turn brought a blank and I was trying to put the 7s on a flush draw. I checked, the field checked, the 7s bet, I check-raised. Everyone folded to the 7s, he called. On the River, I bet, he called. When he called, I knew he had me. I turned my cards up in front of me with, “You win.”
He threw his hand in the muck and then almost had a cow as the dealer pushed the pot to me.
I didn’t say ‘you win’ because I was trying to take a shot. I honestly knew he had me beat when he called. I almost fell off my chair when he threw his hand away. I’m not sure what home game he played in but he honestly thought that when I said, ‘you win’, that I was relinquishing my hand.
He told the dealer I threw my hand away. Everyone told him that I turned my hand up in front of me and he had to show his cards to win the pot. Wild! I haven’t had anything like this happen for a long, long time, and when it did, it was when I was dealing vs. playing.
A few minutes later I picked up the A-4 Spades, on the Button, and raised it pre-flop. I got one call from the BB. I like him, he was in the 2s, he plays frequently, nice guy and usually very quiet in the games. When I play poker, I come to play, not to make friends or split the pot or the blinds. I never take the play of the game personally and I don’t believe other people should either…but the ones that do are the ones that make the rest of us a lot of money. The Flop brought K-4-9 with two spades. The 2s bet, I raised, he raised, I called. The Turn was a blank. He bet – I called. The River brought a Spade. He checked, I bet, he called, and I stacked the chips.
But the downside during the play of the hand was that when I called his re-raise on the Flop, the 4s put his hand out on the table in front of the 2s, patted the table, and announced, “Good Luck.”
I don’t get it. I’ve dealt to the 4s for years. I have no idea why I’m now the enemy or why he is wishing someone else luck when they are in a hand with me. So…maybe I’m taking the ‘drunken dealer’ thing too personally…but add up the whole sum.
Then I relinquished my SB to the 1s because I don’t chop. The other end of the table had to have a conversation, “…she doesn’t chop!” like I was an outcast or had found and drank whiskey from the Holy Grail and then thrown it into the fireplace and broken it. Ugh!!! The game was still short, I was very good winner, when my blinds came again, I racked up and hit the road. Kee-rist! All I want to do is play poker.
The funniest part of the whole picture: I came back to the table with empty racks. The 4s had racked up and left. Boba asked me if I wanted to draw for a seat in other games. I said, “No.”
The dealer spread the deck for the remaining four players to draw and who should appear at my side, at the table, but Sam Grizzle. He looked at my racks of chips, “Did you bust them all?”
I replied, “No.”
He asked if we wanted to play some more. I left him to a conversation with the other three that were moving to seats in other games. Hell no! I don’t want to play with Sam. And no, I’m not afraid of his play, I just don’t know if I could stand the perpetual chatter of how great he is and the fact that if he went bust, he might be looking to me to put him in the next game. Super double, triple, Kee-rist! Color me gone!
Do drunken dealers end up here? The end:
