“Great dealer, Linda!” from Aaron Katz as I brought in a new set-up in Bobby’s Room, spread the deck, checked it, and prepared to deal $2-4 Mixed.

I looked rather quizzical I’m sure. Aaron wasn’t looking at me and my gaze moved to Jennifer Harman – sitting right beside Aaron. She was almost chuckling and said, “I agree,” as our eyes met. Thanks Jennifer!

The funniest part of it is that I didn’t even deal the previous hand. I stood behind the outgoing dealer as the hand finished and Aaron definitely lost it – in more ways than one. He would have blown a foul language meter off its base. The part that always amazes me is that if they don’t even know when a dealer changes, or a deck is spread to bring in a new set-up, or if you’ve stated, “Time Pot!” and taken the time and it’s sitting on the drop slot, how in the hell do they class themselves as ‘pros’ that pay attention to the game. The only thing I believe most of them pay attention to is their own shallow wallowing pit.

The game was an interesting mix: Ralph Perry in the 1s, Phil Hellmuth in the 2s, Jennifer Harman in the 3s, Aaron Katz in the 4s, unknown and quietly friendly in the 5s, Eli Elezra in the 6s, David Oppenheimer in the 7s, Johnny Chan in the 8s.

Johnny and Aaron were both firing up the foul language meter but Aaron was, way and above, the winner of the contest.

I’ve rarely dealt to Phil in live action over the last four to five years. Normally I’ve seen him in a tournament atmosphere, or dealt to him upon occasion in tournaments, but all in all, I’ve had very little contact with him. In this game he was quite calm, explaining to Aaron how Aaron had played badly and how great it was to walk out and have people be so happy to see you and greet you and there is another side of life type of thing – a complete role reversal from everything we see Phil do on TV and hear about from other players.

The best part of this down, for me, was whena woman (I’d dealt to her earlier in a $4-8H game) found the door open and unattended by a high brush person. She stepped up to the open door, stuck her face and shoulder inside, and screamed, ‘KICK THEIR ASS, JENNIFER. KICK THEIR ASS, JENNIFER!” as she did a hand pump at the ceiling, and disappeared. The brush told me that she had been around the door and podium off and on all night, walking back and forth, staring in the window, and she’d asked the brush about eight times if that was really Phil Hellmuth. *LMAO*

Otherwise the whole down was a working dead spread for me, empty pocket, but no heat. And that, Kiddies, is what it’s like to deal to the pros.