The old Pan Crew sometimes manages a weekly meet for lunch now – instigated by Moi, the social director for people that never seem to think of putting anything together and they just wait for someone else to do it…yes my little buddy slackers, you know who you are. After the lunch (late afternoon) is normally the time that Marie and I head for a poker room. We do the lunch thing on Fridays – not that I’m normally off on Fridays but when the room is running in half mode, with plenty of dealers, my supervisor (wonderful Pete Popovich) autopilots me into the ‘excused’ mode on Friday. We headed for the Palms again.

I had to stop at a PO and when I arrived, Marie was already in a $2-4H game, with our names on the list for a $4-8. Wayne was on a break and while I was visiting with him, the list was called for a new $4-8 game and Marie locked up the 8 and 9s for us. I took the 8, she took the 9, and Roger the Royal took the 7s. When I was at the podium, visiting with Wayne, a young, healthy looking male was trying to get on a list, explaining that he had never played before. He landed in our game, in the 6s, and he was right, he’d never played before…Hello, Tito! The 4s was occupied by his friend and co-worker and with all of the noise, I never could figure out what his name really is. I just called him Palo. Marie says he was so cute and nice that he would answer to anything…I think she’s right. But he is a cutie and way too nice for words. The 10s was a regular that didn’t really come to play unless he was getting the best of it, he walked continuously and I would much rather he stay away because people like him turn the game into a dead rock pile.

When the game started, it was a rocker, with Pete the floor person dealing while he waited for dealers to come on shift. Wayne was right behind us dealing a game and I thought he would push into our game and finally deal to us. No…instead we got Tony. Of all of the dealers I’ve ever had deal to me, in my lifetime, I can honestly say Tony is the worst. Yes…Tony, I do hope you read this…YOU ARE THE WORST! The reason you are the worst is because you know better.

When Tony pushed in, he had to tell all of us that he was waking up, like we were interfering with his schedule by expecting him to do his job. He immediately struck up a conversation with the 10s and he scrambled the deck, turned and looked at the 10s as they chatted, andhe finally took the new deck out of the shuffle master, cut it, picked it up, dealt the first two down cards, stopped, chatted some more, looked back to see where he stopped dealing, dealt the next three down cards, stopped to chat some more, looked back to see where he’d stopped dealing, and so the first hand took about a minute, from the time he started dealing until the time he stopped. WOO FUCKING HOO! Give me some ‘ludes’ dude so I can slow down to your level.

Tony never stopped talking, never stopped being too kewl to move, never did his job, and never knew where the action was. At one point, as he chatted with the 10s, Tito and Palo and I were in a hand, I was last to act. As Palo was reaching for chips, setting them out in the betting area, and cutting them off, Tito started betting – thinking it was his turn. I asked for time – as in ‘time out’. Tony came back to the action, having no idea what happened where. Palo grabbed his bet back. Tony asked him if he’d put any chips out. Palo said, ‘NO!”

I started laughing. Tony finally admitted that he wasn’t paying attention and didn’t know what happened. NO SHIT???? Tony then went to Tito, Tito bet, I folded, and Palo called Tito. The 1s hit a high hand a few minutes later. We had to wait for Pete to come over and verify it and pay the bonus. Then I picked up J-J and raised it. I got Palo and Tito as callers. I flopped a set. They checked to me, I bet, Palo called me, Tito folded. The turn was a blank. Palo checked, Tony had his face buried in the direction of the 10s still talking and started tapping the table, getting ready to burn and turn. I yelled, “WAIT A MINUTE!”

Tony kept tapping, now pulling the burn card off of the deck, I threw my arms up in the air like a ref noting the field goal was good, and screamed, ‘WAIT A MINUTE, I HAVEN’T ACTED YET!”

Tony came up for air again. Kee-rist! I was allowed to bet and won the hand. A few hands later, with eight way action, Tony put the last card down instead of up. Just a little “I’m too cute and smart” move that I think was his idea of entertainment. We managed about ten hands during Tony’s down and I took a walk and reported him to the floor person. I doubt that anything was ever said to Tony about his work ethic and poor display of professionalism in the box, but I also told the floor person that he could tell Tony, the complainer was me. I could care less. If you don’t want to do your job, call in sick or quit. Just get out of a profession that requires you to at least pay attention and let those of us that want to play know that we can play and you will run your game and DO YOUR JOB!

When Tony pushed in, we got stuck with him instead of Wayne. Wayne went on by to the next table. *sniff* Another day of Wayne not dealing to us.

Tito rammed and jammed and slammed, running up chips, running out of chips. We got involved in a conversation, of course. He had a giant belt buckle and I asked him about it. He showed it off:

I also asked him what his shirt read – he translated it into something like this, “I’m really cute all the time but today I outdid myself.”

Sitting on my right was Roger the Royal. He was one of the ‘china men’ at the other end of the table in my last post. *snicker* He’s ultimately kewl and fun to play poker with and achieved his title by making a royal once a week. I didn’t believe him or the dealer that said that Roger made a royal once a week at the Palms, in their live games…but what the hell do I know. He is Royal and should be treated as such:

Our young friend Palo went broke a few times and left the table, only to come back later and play again, just before his seat was given away. I got into a pot with him once, heads-up, and we both flopped trip 10’s. I had an Ace kicker which I hit on the turn and he was drawing dead. He bet into me, I raised him, “I have you beat.”

He raised me back with a big grin, I raised him back and he called. He bowed his head and crossed himself, waiting for the river. On the river, he checked, I bet, he called and showed 10-3 or 10-5 off. He was never upset or distressed, just wonderfully fun and new to poker.

Tito talked to every one and any one about any subject. The 10s, when he elected to grace us with his presence, was tall, around my age, long grayish dark hair pulled back, and had a strong, slender featured face. Tito queried him, “I think you are Apache or part Indian of some type.”

The 10s deadpanned something like, “You are close. My father is from Brooklyn and my mother from Warsaw.” I may not be remembering the real location his parents were from, but he was far from native Indian. We all died laughing over that one.

Bo was in the 3s…anyway I believe that’s his name. We used to work together at the Mirage a million or so years ago. He is involved in a correspondence right now with Guinness’s Book of World Records. He has a particular feat in mind, with a time limit, and it involves poker. He’s supposed to let me know when/if it takes place.

The game was definitely out of control. I was lost in a sea of bad hands and just when I thought I found a life raft, it went down in shark filled waters. Bobby did deal to us though, what a relief to have a competent, cheerful dealer after suffering through Tony.

Tito and Palo were being hustled out by another friend because they were going to go eat. Tito stood up to show me his belt, and the belt buckle, and he’s damn proud of both. He started to unbuckle his belt and I went, “WHOA! You have to leave it buckled if I’m going to take a picture.” Does this kid know what that kind of action does to a granny’s heart? Kee-rist! They finally left after Tito’s promises to send me an email because I was going to email him the pictures I took of them, and of course, they both gave me a big hug. Nice!

I really hated the game after that, all the action went south and I was tired and out of patience to try to sit and milk a few $$ back out of the crew. I bade Marie goodnight, Wayne and I walked out together and said goodnight, and I headed across the valley for my little coach, nestled on the blacktop foundation that separates it from the desert.