Being the E/O Queen has afforded me the opportunity to free up a lot of hours. A lot of those hours are spent here, at PokerWorks, delving into news, more material to present to you, the reader, and working with the team behind PokerWorks to create a complete ‘works’. But I’ve also spent considerable time on the other side of the green felt, as a player, traveling around to some of the other poker rooms in the city with Marie, trying to figure out, in general, if low limit games really are beatable. I’ve not arrived at an answer on the beatable part. I do know that low limit games are probably the most fun to play in because there is such a great mix of society just stepping into poker right now. They all want to play. They’ve all watched it on TV. They love the action and they just want to be there, waiting for the next hand. That’s the part that keeps me fascinated and intrigued, the mind behind the game.

Marie and I’ve trekked to the Palms more than once because our friend Wayne deals there. The Palms poker room is split in to two distinct segments, with a hallway running between the two that leads to bathrooms. Bathrooms in close proximity to poker rooms is always way better than wonderful. The only drawback to the hallway is that there is a big ashtray in the hallway and people race out there to smoke and come back into the room spewing smoke, or they lean into the poker room with a cigarette in hand and watch the dealer to see when the next hand is being dealt so they can drop their smoke and run back in to grab their cards. The low limit side (the one we play on) is nonsmoking up until a point (I believe they go to smoking on grave yard) but it’s still brutal. When I leave there, my eyes and the back of my nose and throat are bothering me from the second hand smoke. I probably would never play there if Wayne didn’t work there. But that doesn’t mean the rest of the world shouldn’t and that doesn’t mean the games are bad, they are not. They are great. Just like all rooms that spread low limit games, the games are great because everyone wants to play.

Around the 15th of Nov., wewere in $2-4H with our names on the list for $4-8 and two seats opened in the same game; Marie took the 6s, Igrabbed the 8s. The other end of the table was a group of Asian mix. I believe one of them was Vietnamese but they were all gambling, laughing, having fun, and putting a serious amount of chips in each pot. I have a serious problemwith nationalities, I think everyone is just like me so I never think of them as being Asian, or black, or blah, blah, blah…they are people. The 4s was raising in the dark, jamming and slamming, having a great time, and managing to hit everything. The first hand I played with him, he took 5-3 off and rammed it into my chip stack when he flopped bottom pair, no suit or straight draw, and peeled off a 5 to win a big pot. We had an Asian dealer, and that brings me to the point of this particular play at the Palms.

I’ve played with the 10s, years ago at the Stardust I believe, and dealt to him and played cards with him at the Mirage over a period of years. He’s horribly ugly in manner and grouchy as hell, having beat himself to death with everything in life, the poker table appears to be his last stand for justification in the fine art of committing Hari Kari. He was taking it in the chip stack with every hand he got into with the other end of the table, and grumbling and mumbling to all hell about how badly they played, what idiots they were, etc., etc., etc.

In one hand, the 10s raised pre-flop, the 4s never looked at his cards and put in a reraise. There were several limpers that got stuck in betweenthe raises. The 4s finally showed his hand to the 3s. The 3s was wearing a hat that had two numbers on it ‘7-3’. After the 4s showed his hand, caught a 7 on the flop, and continued to jam it up with the 10s, the 3s pointed to his own hat, and started laughing. Anyone that knew anything or was paying attention, knew that the 4s held 7-3. I did anyway. The long and short of it was that the 4s caught a 3 on the river and won a big pot. The 10s went nutzzz! He mumbled some comment about the ‘china men’ on the other end of the table, waved his hand at the dealer and made some comment about her being in on it. Kee-rist! I was laughing out loud. Just watching him made my day. He was on super tilt.

We were in a half kill game. The 7s went ona small siz. He’d won several pots in a row and the kill had been on the last few hands. He had $3 on the Kill Button, and I was the button. The 10s raised out of the BB, can’t even remember who called what. The 7s came in for another $6 with Q-2 suited. I don’t consider it a bad call, but maybe you would have to have been there to see the action. The 7s ended up winning the pot with either a pair of deuces or two pair…but he beat the 10s. The 10s grumble mumbled about the 7s seat, “…you’re a good player…”

I was still laughing. I jumped in, “He is a good player.”

The 7s was laughing and stacking, ignoring the 10s, thanking me for my comment, and the 10s couldn’t figure it out or leave it. The 10s barked, “I AM a good player. If he’s so good, why doesn’t he go in there?” as he motioned to the other section of the poker room where they play NLH.

I asked, “Why would he want to go in there? Do you think NL is the only game?”

10s, “That’s where I’m going as soon as I build this up! I’m going where they play real poker.”

Sure enough, I ended up with K-Q sooted and in a handwhere I was heads up with the 10s. I flopped an open ended straight draw, turned a four flush, and made ZIP! Just like it’s supposed to be.

When he bet on the river, I pushed my hand in and said, “Nice hand! Maybe you’ll quit whining now!”

Everyone on my end went ballistico. They snorted out laughter and the 9s, he’d been quiet all this time, said, “I knew I liked you when you sat down!”

The 10s went into a rant, “You women…all you have to do is find someone to marry you. They pay for everything for you. You just sit back and enjoy ‘their’ money and do nothing for it…”

I know the sun sparkling off of fresh dew in the morning could never have beat the gleam in my eye as I replied, “Really? You mean that’s all I have to do? Just find a husband?”*pause* “Not that I’m interested in you…” *more laughter*

The 10s snorted, “GOOD! You’re ugly!”

The dealer was starting to fidget, getting ready to protect me, as I laughed even harder, “Really? How many beauty contests have you been in lately?”

And here he is…the wonderful, warm, enigmatic man, that hates himself. I find myself wondering if he’s J.C. Pearson’s brother and through some ill fated mistake, was switched at the hospital.

Of course I took this picture with no flash, unbeknownst to him. He never won enough money to go to the next room and play the ‘real’ game of poker. He ended up leaving us about 20 minutes later, taking what few chips he had left, and scurrying away in silence.

And unfortunately, Wayne never dealt to us, nor was he able to leave when he thought he would be out of the line-up. He worked some OT. So we left, and left him there too. Next post is Tito and the Palms – that play was a week later.