I had no idea how long the wait was going to be. I calculated what I was going to need for a stake to play in the 3-6 game - I go by the rule of thumb of around 30 BB, give or take - so that meant $180. I'd brought $100 with me so, for insurance, I decided to grab another $100 from the ATM - only I couldn't find my ATM card. I begin mentally berating myself for leaving it in the machine at the bank. Again. But I trekked out to the car to check, and there it was on the car seat. Could I have been just a little distracted or something?
I circled the card-room several times, orienting myself and trying to get an idea of what I might be up against. The atmosphere was one of controlled mayhem. Lot's of people and tense - but focused - looks on the faces of the floor people. The no-limit tables were populated mostly be college kids, properly attired in shades and ball-caps. I was watching a 3-6 game when I heard a "Hello, Mmmaudie" and turned to see my friend, the Corkster. I'd phoned him earlier to see if he wanted to come out - he likes the slots - but he'd begged off. He'd rightly deduced that "Maudie" would be my nom du poker.
Having abandoned his wife (who was cleaning out the storage shed) to come gamble, we stood at the rail watching the action for a while before he went off to find his fortune with the slots. I bought a rack of whites and waited some more, chatted with a woman who didn't want to sit with her husband. She was a Party Poker player, hadn't heard of Full Tilt.. She got called to a table and shortly thereafter, so did I.
I sat in the 2s, unracked my chips and looked around at the cast of characters
I'd joined for this evening's improvisation. The 1s was unmemorable; on my left
was 'Willie Nelson' - probable in his 60s, a ponytail of gray hair, bandana
across the forehead and a face molded by struggle and bad choices; the 4s &
5s were obviously a couple, weathered and leathered skin which spoke of a life
spent out-doors, either farming or hard labor. She was tiny, long brown hair
speckled with gray and a hag's face. He was smallish, straight brown hair, unwashed
and brushed back. Each with enough trailer park attitude to make you want to
give them a wide and cautious berth, I dubbed them "Tex" and "Billie-Jo."
In front of them both were several stacks of whites - which were soon to become
a small bone of contention.
The 6s was an older man sporting a straw panama who shook constantly. Later in the game the table had a chuckle over this when someone remarked about shaking being a tell. He said he shakes all the time, has been since he was 15. I said "then I guess the tell would be if you stop shaking, " he laughed and agreed. The 7s was a man. probably late 40s, from Shawnee. He'd played in Vegas before. 8s - unmemorable. 9s was an older man in an OU jersey - played extremely tight.
The stage was set but the curtain wasn't going up. Most of the table had left for a smoke at the dealer push. The floor wasn't happy about this and told the dealer to inform the table when they returned that they had a "three men walking" rule and they can't hold up the game like that. The dealer failed to do that when they returned - he was young, looked too nervous and probably didn't want to have a confrontation his first night dealing.
Finally, the cards were in the air and I proceeded to fold and fold and fold and fold. I wasn't surprised at the dogs of cards I was repeatedly being dealt as it's a familiar pattern. But that was ok - it allowed me to observe my opponents and gain information. After a couple of hands, Billie-Jo racked 3 racks of chips - not all of her chips, and stood up. Tex said "Here, take some of mine, too" and plopped 2 racks of his chips on top of hers and she scooted off to the cashier. I thought "they can't do that, can they? Hmm, WWFD?" just as Mr. Vegas began quietly voicing the same thing. He was very polite about it and quietly pulled the floor over to ask. The floor wasn't sure, went to check and returned saying that it was allowed to color up but they couldn't cash out.
During this exchange, Tex was mumbling "This is bull-sheeyit. They're gunna hur 'bouttit, sayin' we cain't cash ouyut. Bull-sheeyit." Later it was clarified over the PA - they announced that you could not remove chips from the table unless you were leaving and you had to color up or make change with your dealer. So that was that. To Tex' credit, he was good about reminding folks not to forget the dealer, even tossing a tip to the dealer if another player failed to do so.
I continued to receive unplayable cards. Eventually the 1s left and was replaced by a large, roly-poly kid. He was nervous and had a cadre of his buddies on the rail behind him. He wasted no time to say this was his first time. But, wise to the ways of Iggster-like "I play Yahoo poker" ruses, I opted to let observation tell me if he was as virginal as he purported. His second hand he flopped a boat and I think nearly peed himself he was so excited. He pulled in a huge pot and couldn't stop counting it (although badly - not a math wiz, this kid). Oh, yes, he was a virgin and just got his cherry popped and maybe had an orgasm, to boot.
He continued to have 1st timers luck a few hands more and then announced it was his 18th birthday. I laughed and said "Well, happy frickin' birthday!" His buds were duly impressed, and I think I heard one of them say he'd definitely get laid... He was a nice kid and I was happy for him. He was smart to quit while he was ahead and left the table shortly thereafter, no doubt to get drunk, throw-up and bask in the glory of his first time playing poker live.
My focus for the evening was on Tex and Billy-Jo. Tex was extremely loose, a little tricky to get a read on him, but not impossible. I knew he'd bleed his stack away and I wanted it to flow in my direction. Billie-Jo was tighter, but still a terrible player - she played any face or ace. And both would time and time again call to show-down with absolutely nothing. I was down about $30 bucks when my cards turned and I took down some good pots. I tangled with Tex a couple of times which didn't get to showdown.
In one hand with him, I held Ac 4s in late position and decided to make a loose call - 3 clubs landed on the board in front of me and so I called the flop to see the turn, which was another club. It came around to me and I raised. Tex paused, gave me the WPT stare down, I looked him strait in the eye and smiled. He mumbled a bit, clearly not wanting to fold. But he did. He said "If I'da hadda club, Ida played witchuh." Dang, I wished he'da hadda club. He said he folded kings, but I didn't believe him. No way he would have folded kings - I'd seen him go to showdown with a scary board and nothing several times. But I did wonder if I should have just called to suck him in. I got a couple of more pots off of him - pissing him off when one of those was a suck-out.
The room remained busy all night. Lot's of distraction which made it hard for me to pay attention to the pot, etc. But I did my best. I made a couple of mistakes which cost me a pot or two. But I feel I did well, playing tight and pushing my edge when I had it. I never saw a pocket pair, getting my pots with a couple of flushes, better kickers, and 2 pair, mostly. People came and went. Another nervous kid who sat down didn't last long. He clearly had no idea what he was doing - even asked what beat what (again, my Iggy radar went up - but he was truly green). He stated at one point "If muh daddy knew whut I wuz doin' he'd whup my ayuss good..." He busted out shortly thereafter.
Nearing midnight, I decided it was time to go. The place closed at 1AM and I didn't want to get caught in the exiting traffic. Highway 9 is a two-lane highway known around here as a death-trap, and I didn't want to contend with unhappy gamblers and their 4x4s. I'd nearly doubled my buy-in so when the blinds came around to me I stood up.
I'm already looking forward to next Friday and am eager to know when they will start running tournaments. It was a well-run room. Short on wait-staff, though. There were only two cocktail waitresses for the entire casino (no freebies - cocktails cost). The dealers were good - some better than others - and kept the game running smoothly, making few mistakes. The floor people were efficient and friendly. The rake was hard to gauge - I wasn't watching close enough. But I saw $3 raked from one pot on the flop and $1 after the turn. A phone call will clarify that.
For those of you who were in Vegas in December, you'll know what I mean when I say it was poker with the cowboys at its most rural best. I'm in heaven. Bring on the dog and monkey.
