They’re the bomb aren’t they?  I’m guessing everyone has them.  I’m also guessing that everyone that has them doesn’t always end up twisted in some kind of poker dealing idiocy during the dream.  I do.

Somehow, after being seven years out of the lineup and black and whites, I was walking into the Bellagio poker room witnessing all the noise and confusion as it had been when I left. I clearly remember thinking that I would have to start blogging about dealing again as I headed for the area of the cashier and the office where I planned to check in. Somehow, I already had a shift and gone through processing but no one knew I was coming back to the schedule.

When I reached the table right in front of the cashier, Donna Harris was the shift supervisor and she was ‘sweating’ the game.  In dealer speak that means someone at the table was being a turd and causing problems.

This is where it gets really stupid…courtesy of my mental strangeness I suppose.  It is a dream so why not make it as unrealistic as possible with a tad of reality thrown in?

The game was $20/$40 7-card stud.  The player in the 2s was a player I may have blogged about before but if I didn’t, I missed a golden chance to expose the stupidity of some who really think they are cultured and intelligent and fit in in the real world.

Just in case I didn’t, here’s a few Michelle tidbits. I believe he’s middle eastern, partly because of his looks, but mainly because of his attitude about women.  Don’t jump on your high horse here and reprimand me about that statement, we all know many people from the middle east that believe women are people and should be treated as such…many do not.

When he first started playing he was much more fun and relaxed and then the Card Fairy tormented him because he couldn’t play worth a shit — consequently couldn’t win and hated everything to do with poker but came back repeatedly for his daily beating which included empty his pocketbook and and removing any ability to reason.

I know he gave the Asian female dealers hell and they just put up with it.  I had a bit of fun with him from time to time as he beat himself up.  One time he lost a pot and told me I should be chained to a stove and kept pregnant.  I told him I usually put poison in the food I cooked.  He really liked to reference the pregnant thing and bondage.  His wife sat behind him sometimes and I think she looked a little browbeaten…but of course, she would agree with him no matter what he did because that was the mentality of their upbringing.

Another time he started with an Ace in the hole and a 2-4 or some small card up and started raising.  He was getting raised back but couldn’t release the hand.  Not sure what he caught on fourth but he caught an Ace on fifth.  I knew it paired him and that was all he had.  He fired it up all the way through the hand and ran into rolled up at the end.  OH MY!

His eyes were shooting molten lava at me.  He tried throwing his cards but I scooped them before he could pick them up (he turned them over of course), to show the rest of the players what a bad beat he took…and what an idiot he was IMHO!

His voice was trembling, “You know what we do to dealers in my country that deal you a bad beat?  We cut their hands off!!!”

MOI: “I bet you have a lot of applicants for the position, right?”

Shame on me.  Not long after he threatened to knock me off my chair or some stupid thing, I called the floor, and he was 86’d for a bit.

Now that the background has been laid…resume the stress dream.

As I walked up to the table, I was going to tell Donna I would be in the line-up and Michelle lost a hand and had a fit.  He threw his cards to the other end of the table.  There were also little white cubes setting in front of his chips and where his cards should be and a few other players had the little white cubes.  They were prop betting.  This is so retarded, Donna never worked at Bellagio and prop bets would never be openly allowed at any low/mid limit games.

He picked up the little white cubes and threw them at the dealer, some of them bounced off onto the floor behind the dealer’s chair and I very firmly said, “That’s enough!” to him as I bent over and started picking up cubes.  Donna came over with a rack to send him home.

I didn’t tap the dealer out, they just got up and left.  I sat down, pulled the deck together, said “Antes please,” and shuffled up and dealt.

Two players had anteed and got up and headed for the page desk to ask for comps as I dealt them in.  One of them was low.  Now I’m trying to call them back while another player said flatly, “Bellagio doesn’t give comps anymore.”

Somehow that hand ended.  As I dealt the next one, I lofted the down card clear up over the rail by about a foot and exposed the next player’s down card so it would have been his up-card if it hadn’t been a misdeal.  Somehow I no longer had ‘deck-dexterity’ and, mercifully, the dream ended.

Let’s hear it for stress.  BOO HISS!  I have others, they would be worth writing about so I will make a mental note to continue with that thread in the future.

On another note, I logged into Facebook about a month ago and happened to notice IM’s that I hadn’t looked at. It was from Mark McBroom, brush at the Mirage.  This is my Facebook post: