Archive for December, 2004

I try to stay away from the $20-40 Omaha 8 or better game, literally, and writing about it is mentally grueling for the most part. It’s like a dead society - a group that gets together to try and beat each other to death, verbally, and with poker chips. On rare occasions there is a flood of new players and the regulars seem to treat them like they are intruders rather than a new avenue of income or someone that should be welcomed into the fold.

Jeff P. - has been on the scene since the beginning of my history with The Mirage. In those days he played $4-8 every day. At one time I thought he had a slight chance at having a personality. Now I find him blending into the draperies and carpeting of Bellagio, nondescript, unhappy, and silent except for his attempts to parry verbal blows weilded by Jay. His focus, at the table, is always on ‘his girls’ (that would be anyone that walked by and looked female) and who’s going for food and what’s on the menu, and his losses.

Most of the dealers can’t stand him because he’s a stiff. When they tell me he never tips them, I laugh and state that I make about $12 a year off of him. That might be high. He’s often expressed to me, away from the game, that he might not tip but he never gives the dealers a bad time. Ok - point?

Double A - a wonderful soul that really would be better off spending his time doing something to replenish his soul…there’s no soul restructuring at the Omaha table. He’s inquisitive, well intentioned, has a heart of gold, and a great sense of humor but he’s struggling with the reality of poker, money, and life…whether he knows it or not.

Jay G. - Intelligent, quick to jump into any conversation and carries on one with himself if no one else bites - he’s ready to launch a verbal rocket at Jeff if Jeff even looks at his chips or cards to call a bet or raise. The funniest part of Jay being at the table is that he’s doing the Dialogue Dance with everyone and most of them don’t even know they’ve been invited off the wall…it goes right over their head. Jeff, however, knows that he’s receiving incoming fire and he tries to fire back with a defense program instead of offense. Hysterical!

Kenny - he’s never happy. I heard him laugh once in the last two years. He could be a real asset to the game and himself, if he climbed out of the death spiral and figured out that poker is a game played with cards, luck is a factor, and you can only conquer the game if you can step away from the picture and assess what’s going on and not let your mind show you the Twilight Zone every time you enter a hand.

Pete - he’s been in the biz a long time…know him since The Mirage days. He’s only in the game on my shift if he’s stuck. He can be pretty harsh if he’s having a bad day but none of that is shoved in my face so I drift through his ups and downs without a lot of swing either way.

These are the five people I would expect to find on any given night in this game. There are a lot of players that have been around for a long time that might show up at any hour of the day or night but these five are the consistent core of this game on my shift.

This game is ‘dealer brutal’. There’s no bright spot, no hope of making a few decent tips out of it, and it’s very demanding as far as dealing it and keeping track of everything that going on. It’s $20-40 with a half kill…jumps to $30-60 and a lot of the regulars never help the dealer, if anything they create more flack than a newcomer with their sarcasm and bad attitudes. It’s like dealing the low end of high limit. Your never making anything out of the down but you’re going to get a lot of attitude and flack.

Most of the time everyone is stone silent, like their guts are trying to push through their breastbone and their eyes are popping out of their heads because they want more hands per hour while they are holding their breath worrying about whether or not they are going to win a pot because the rent was due last month.

This is how some of it goes:

One player that I’ve nicknamed ‘Babalonia’ likes the 2s. She always has attitude. It’s either ‘deal me out’ or she’s trying to jump start her version of what the bet is and who did what…even if they didn’t. Hello confusion! She’s UTG. As I shuffle and deal the first hand, for some reason, Cardz (The Card Fairy’s demonic cousin) was at work and Babalonia’s card flipped off the deck, jumped across the table, and almost landed in her lap.

I was embarrassed and indignant that I’d suffered a mechanical problem and dropped the deck as I stated, “Send them back.”

The cards came in with a lot of flack from Babalonia and the 3s, “Why is it a misdeal?” - “This game is slow enough…”

Another “Why is it a misdeal?” from Babalonia brought this response from me, “I’m embarrassed because the card popped off the deck.”

That didn’t slow her or the 3s down and if he’d thought about dropping it, he wasn’t going to because she fanned the fire, “It’s not a misdeal…”

I already had the deck shuffled and was dealing by now, “I’m one of the slowest dealers in the room…as you’ll see.”

She went on with the rant…into the next hand. I said, “If you want me to call a floor person I will. It is history. Let me know.”

What the hell was a floor person going to do a hand later? Don’t bother answering that one. She took a walk. I wish she’d found the short pier.

She came back right at the end of my down. A new set-up was brought in and when I set the new deck on the table for the incoming dealer, Babalonia whined, “We just used the green deck.”

I was standing up by now, new dealer was in the box, and I turned around and queried, “Really?”

Babalonia said, “You put in the wrong color of deck.”

I did not. She wanted a reason to be unhappy…so be it! I exclaimed, “Damn…another dealer error - maybe I’ll get fired over it!” as I walked off.

That’s Babalonia’s realm…if the correct deck color isn’t put in, the whole damn world is falling apart and life as we know it on this Earth is never going to be the same again. Can you imagine having dinner with this chick? Or doing other things with her? No - No - please don’t try to put pictures in my head!

The post goes on…tomorrow.

*****

In the meantime, let this time be the ‘times of our lives’ - the days that we look back on and remember as being the best of times - bringing in the New Year - Happy 2005 everyone!

My brain quit functioning about four hours ago. My body feels like a freight train ran over it, the last rail flipped up and tossed me in front of the freight train and it derailed on top of me. In other words, my butt is dragging. Typical to the Christmas/New Years holidays - we were swamped. People kept milling through the door long into the night and along about 2:30 a.m., one game broke down. It was noise, deal, people, deal, confusion, deal - damn it - deal, on and on into the eternity of a never ending poker game.

Mercifully I found the time clock and the escape hatch at 3:00 a.m. - only to run into a harsh wind, coming straight out of the North Pole, that is colder than a well digger’s ass. I had to make a stop at a store and after arriving at home, safely tucked inside, I remembered I’d left something in the truck. That wouldn’t be such a serious problem if the truck was in its normal place in the garage…concrete acid staining and design has forced me to park street side. So there I was, after a grueling day at the office, in the dark at 4:30 a.m., trudging out into the windblown neighborhood, freezing my tush off, to get what I’d forgotten almost an hour earlier. Jesus! Did I ever mention how much I hate the wind…especially when it’s cold outside? It’s a childhood thing and goes back to living in Wyoming, Kansas, and a few other states where the wind rips through you with icy fingers. I hate the wind.

On the poker side of life, the night evolved into one long poker game. Nothing catastrophic or mind breaking happened, just lots of action and jamming in all the games. I missed all the high limit games except one, $100-$200 Holdem and Sam G. was playing in it. The game is played with $25 chips and it played like a $4-8 game. Sam was, of course, his own entertainment and hero. It was a must move game and he stated something like this, “I’m next to move and I hate to go since you-all are playing like you’ve never played before.”

He ended up being moved by the Brush Person because he was walking when his seat opened in the main game.

A couple of my friends are back in town and they chortle over every morsel of ‘the Sam G. tales’. They feed on his insanity and the way he always finds a way to get into a game. It is pretty incredible. One of them stated that for being a broke railbird, Sam plays in the highest limits in town. Amen. That he does.

While I was dealing a $10-20 blind NLH game the night before, Sam walked up and started finessing the 9s. Sam Syrup held every word together as he continued to talk - the 9s handed Sam a stack of $100 bills that were behind the 9s’s chips and Sam left for a few minutes. He returned with the bills, handed them back to the 9s, and displayed a stack of $1,000 chips with the statement, “I found something better.”

There are those that laugh at the mere mention of Sam G. - there are those that are in awe of all the ability wasted on trying to hustle a buy-in. Me? I’ve managed to get past wondering about any of it. Watching his personality tends to make me appreciate that side of the poker world. In all worlds, we must have all the facets to make the whole picture. Sam is one of the facets.

Who knows how or where or what? Who cares? Sometimes there just aren’t any answers - just questions. I leave it at that.

It’s beyond raining. There are attempts to build an Arc in Vegas. The animals are lining up two by two and the poker players are playing the final tournament round to see who gets to take their family and friends on the newly built Arc. Ok…ok…I’m drinking wine and imagining the downfall of the city of sin. But it is raining like hell and has been since sometime yesterday. The streets are filled with rivers and walking anywhere is totally out of the question…driving should be for some of these fools but they persist.

On a special interest note (probably only to me), when we have 25 additional tournament tables in the pit, I usually draw to deal in the middle of the room - meaning I’m never dealing tournament, I’m dealing high limit in almost every game because it’s spread throughout the room. But since we have no tournament, I draw Table 27, 28, 29, or 30, which guarantees I’m dealing high limit anyway. I got no win. Cardz is at work again…damn it!

I started on 29. One game of $4-8 holdem, the next game $8-16 holdem then off to Wonderland. Wonderland? Wondering why in the hell I’m there.

But before I leave the $8-16 game behind…I was ready to throw up for the 2s. He flopped a set of 10’s - made a full house - a King on the River gave his opponent a bigger full house, multiple raises went in here…sure the Kings had the best hand to begin with but it’s painful. Then he had the big over pair and his opponent caught a 10 on the River to make a set…ouch! He took it well and I got involved in table conversation…slap my mouth.

The 4s was a woman that went to Aruba for the Ultimate Bet Tournament. We talked it up. This was nothing like the game I dealt there last night with Mark in the 4s. BTW - I looked for him tonight. Sure…you’re thinking it was because of that hard, smooth body right? Wrong! I wanted to tell him that being a professional wrestler, he should blow the crowd away by being articulate and using the English language to express himself rather than falling into the ‘I’m a muscle bound freak and can’t talk unless I can swear’ but he was nowhere to be found. Instead of being a trend setter, he could be ‘a trend’.

I had to leave this friendly little $8-16 behind and hit the $2,000-4,000 mixed game on table 1. It ended up being pretty damn funny. Ralph P. - 1s, Renee - 2s, Minh - 3s, Jeff L. - 4s, Phil I. - 7s, Eli E. - 8s.

Eli can be pretty comical at times, horrid at other times, but lately he’s pretty funny. He likes to involve me in the table conversation. Whether I like it or not, I’m in.

Last week he was playing a $1,000-2,000 in the 1s and Ralph P. was drinking a beer with a straw in it. The conversation started with Eli inviting Ralph to drink. Ralph said he drank more than Eli. Eli made a comment about the straw in the beer and finished with, “I bet Linda knows why he’s drinking it through a straw.”

I said, “Because it puts more air into the drink.”

Amir was in the game, a Dr., and he was telling Eli the same thing as I was making my statment. After I got pushed out of the game, I turned to Eli and said, “The fastest way to get drunk - Gator Aid and vodka.”

He thought that was wonderful news. Don’t ask me why because I don’t think he ever takes anything with alcohol in it but it adds to my image that ‘Linda knows’.

Tonight he was carrying on about a lot of things. One was dealers that can’t handle the high limit players and their attitudes. He told me that I take it very well, “When I’m upset and I throw the cards on you…”

I dryly said, “Yeah, I think you’re a jerk.”

Jeff got involved. They did a dissertation about dealers that shouldn’t be in the that job, they just aren’t ‘feet’ for it (Eli’s version meant fit).

Eli lost a hand and exclaimed, “That’s why I hate this dealer!”

I roared. He started laughing too. (He’s the one that pulled my hair one time when I was dealing because he’d heard one of the dealers wore a wig. If that’s not another post in the Diary Past, it should be).

Eli took off on what would happen when Wynn opens and how he felt the majority of the high limit would stay at Bellagio because of Bobby Baldwin. He asked me if a lot of dealers were leaving. I said, “Yes! But I’m staying here so I can deal to you for the rest of your life.”

He thought that was damn funny too. I don’t. If it weren’t for him and Renee, I would make nothing for dealing that half hour. Renee is the best, always tips, never mean or nasty in a win or loss. The high limit kids could learn a lot from him.

I told Eli I remembered how much fun he used to be at The Mirage. He said he still was but it was easier than because he played $150-$300. Amazing how high limit has jumped through all of these levels in such a short time span.

*****

A duck just swam past the window! I’d better get another glass of wine.

I hit the shower about 5:30 and headed for the capital of Nevada…yes it is Bellagio! Don’t let anyone tell you any different. The room was busy. It’s expected this time of year. Approximately 1.5M people hit town between Christmas and New Years. They have to go somewhere, I figure they all head for the Capital.

The downside and jaw dropper to my night was that Mike Tashman died of a heart attack recently. He played a lot of our NLH weekly tournaments and I’ve known him and his wife, Melody, for years. We will all miss his great sense of humor and grace at the tables.

My first game was Table 25, easy to deal $30-60 Holdem. It should have been an easy night but I had an off beat feeling about the games in general. While no one was a problem, there just was no easy flow to the betting or game play. I went through several $4-8 and $8-16 Holdem games, people were walking, the games need a shot of oxygen to revive them but it just wasn’t coming and each down was a lot of hard work. Then I hit Table 30.

$8-16 Holdem. All guys except the 2s, a woman that always wants a deck change. Tonight was no different. Before my butt hit the dealer’s chair she wanted a deck change. Done deal.

The 3s had arms bigger than my thighs. He was wearing a baseball cap that read “LA”, a T-shirt with something on it, and had major attitude. He lost the first I hand I dealt and commented, “Jacks and no fucking raise before the Flop.”

He was SO loud about it that I cautioned him on his language, like this, “No potty mouth.”

He had his own war going on with muscles that are too big to be on any human. “No potty mouth,” he sneered at me. “Where are we, in church? We swear when we play poker!”

I said, “No we don’t. Not here.”

He didn’t slow down. He had his own little sermon going about the benefits of swearing and poker and I told him once again that we weren’t going to swear…it was a house rule.

As I dealt the next hand, he started praying, “God, please let me win this hand…blah, blah, blah.”

I started laughing. “It might work for you. It doesn’t work for me when I play but it might for you.”

Everyone in the game was quiet as hell, as if they were afraid the 3s would lose control of all of his muscle and jump up and start kicking the players out into the casino.

He mumbled something about praying and did another “fuck” thing and I told him that was enough. I would call the supervisor if he swore again.

He then phrased every thing with a “Mother Linda…” in all of his sentences. Directing his conversation at me and including me in it. I wasn’t quite sure if he was using half a word - you know “Mother” - in reference to me or if he was referring to me as a Nun.

About the fifth time he did it, I looked at him with, “I am a mother and a grandmother, do you want to call me grandmother Linda?”

He was one big guy. Very rough looking in the face but arms that were sculpted into smooth wrapping, huge, bulging muscles and probably intimidating to a lot of people. But I’ve faced down the devil himself so I wasn’t about to back down to one little ol’ human.

He lost another hand and made a comment about “…having the fucking balls.”

I spotted Lee and sent her to find Pete for me. Pete is the Swing Shift Supervisor. Pete arrived during the hand and I explained about the “F” this and “F” that. Pete informed the 3s that abusive language was not going to be tolerated at Bellagio.

The 3s said he already knew it and he hadn’t done it since I told him he couldn’t. Yeah right! With that, Pete walked away.

The 3s told me I was just like his mother. Just when he started having fun, I ruined it. I told him we could have fun without swearing, he said no we couldn’t.

He leaned back in his chair and slid his knit shirt up high on his chest and caressed his six pack stomach. There wasn’t a hair on his body (the part that wasn’t clothed anyway) and it looked like he’d just gotten ‘waxed’. He did this several times and I wasn’t sure if he was doing it on my account to see if he could get a reaction or just enjoying the feel of rock hard, hairless flesh.

I asked him if he was from L.A. He never looked up at me but did a half smile and said no. He was from Japan and Costa Rica.

I FINALLY broke the ice here. “Hey, it looks like a smile.”

He said he was a professional wrestler and if he had his druthers, he’d live in Costa Rica. I asked him if he traveled a lot. He said yes. Name? Mark Smith! Never heard of him but then I don’t follow the wrestling circuit and he might have been fibbing.

He mentioned the swearing thing again and I told him that it would force him to express himself using the English language. He said he’d graduated from college.

The rest of the table never said a word but the chips slammed and crashed across the green felt. I got pushed. I walked around behind him and touched his back with, “You can do it, Mark.”

He shook my hand and gave me a smile. Damn it! I love poker!

Then a dance through $2,000-$4,000 mixed. Ralph P., Jeff, Chip, Phil, Eli, nothing to mention here, just the usual chip slamming, a few comments, and off to $300-600 mixed with Esther, David L., and an unknown. Crappy games for a dealer and I’ll leave it at that.

The next game $10-20 blind NLH. My Montana friend, Damian, was in the 5s. He’s the one that went bust with A-A when I dealt to him last week - same game, an earlier post. He raised it pre-flop and got called. The Flop was King high hearts. This time the tide turned. The player in the hand with him flopped a flush and the board paired on the River. Damian had K-K.

Phew! I was beginning to wonder…

*****
A ‘must post’ coming up on the $20-40 Omaha 8 or Better with a half kill…but not tonight. This kid is dragging and lots of things on the menu today so off to Sandman Land. I promise I won’t dream about poker or Mark Smith’s hairless six pack stomach…

This really isn’t funny - but yet…

The night before Christmas Eve. $4,000-8,000 mixed limit games with one little single draw Deuce to 7, no limit with a $100,000 cap and $1,000 ante from each player, $1,000-$2,000 Blind. That’s a mouthful ain’t it?

The game was four handed, Lyle B. - 1s, Chau - 2s, Doyle - 4s, Phil - 7s. They were playing single draw Deuce when I sat down. The first thing that happened was Phil turned over three face cards and Lyle and Doyle threw him two or three $5,000 chips. Proposition bets. There were so many big chips flying around (sniff…none of them flew to me…sniff) and everyone, except Chau (he wasn’t in the proposition thing), was turning over their hole cards without calling a bet or raise, that it was hard to figure out if the hand was over or if I was supposed to be giving change somewhere.

Doyle and Phil seemed to have a little exchange that belonged only to them (heard they’d been playing for over 24 hours) - they took turns bantering at the other about being ‘the luckiest player…’

In general it was like watching a chip war and no one was going to win. They threw more money across the table in ‘Prop’ bets than I could make in four years. The dealer in front of me, a good, solid, no mistake making dealer, made zip/zero/nothing out of the game. For handling all of those massive amounts of money and doing it well, he got paid minimum wage by the house. Around $3.00 for his time in the box.

I seldom find myself feeling disgruntled over tipping but this leaves me with a giant black spot in my head for the player that always thinks they should have the best of it - comps, great dealers, etc., when they can’t give up anything on behalf of the person that works for tips…especially at Christmas.

I got really lucky, I made $20. From the talk around the room, it’s been more the zip/zero thing for everyone. Maybe I’m just blessed… don’t think I don’t appreciate it, I do.

*****

I hit the $10-$20 blind NLH game to find an old friend from Montana in the 4s. We dealt and played poker together another lifetime ago. He said hello, so did I, he went into a thing about how his girl was in the box and things were looking up. Yup! It worked exactly like that. NOT!

The first hand I dealt him was A-A. He raised it, got called by Q-9 spades. The Flop was 9-little-little. He bet the Flop, got called, Bet $800 on the Turn and got raised - it put him all-in for about $700 more, and a cute little 9 slipped off on the River.

It was pretty much a gagger although he never flinched or made any comments. I wanted to throw up for him. He didn’t clam up or go ‘all stoney’ on me which was really great on his part. He bad played another hand about fifteen minutes later and that cost him a chunk. When I got pushed, I looked at him and said, “Just like old times!”

I was below his game, waiting for the dealer to finish the hand in my next table and got to visit with him for a minute. He’s coming for Christmas dinner - hell, that’s today!

I have to run. I have a date with a little sweetie that’s eight months old…his mom and dad are coming too. I’m the chief cooker, taxi woman, and grandma of the year so I’d better get a few hours sleep before the whirlwind begins. Merry Christmas!

The $2-5 blind NLH games are a riot. The first one I dealt almost turned into a war with me and a couple of players before I dealt the first hand. One of them had zip/zero chips in front of him and $145 for his re-buy was on the table. I told him he had to buy $200. He argued that he’d been playing. I said it still was a $200 buy-in. He then queried the table because obviously I didn’t know what I was talking about. It went on a for a few more minutes as I got a fill. He did pull out $200 and the Chip Runner raced off to get his chips but he still argued with me, a friend of his took his side, that he could/should then go all-in for $199 and hold back $1 so he could buy short. I told him he couldn’t do that. They argued that he could. I got lippy, “Ok. This is my first day and you guys obviously know more about it than I do. But if you try to do that, I will call for a decision.”

Funny part of it was that the woman in the 1s believed it was my first day…even telling me so about 20 minutes later. I don’t think it was because of my dealing skills - she just couldn’t imagine anyone saying that if it wasn’t true. Too funny.

The friend of the guy that wanted a short buy-in, we managed to solve our differences within a few minutes and I found out that he’s a dealer also.

The 9s was jamming everything, Asian, have dealt to him before and he can be pretty hard sounding. In this hardness, it’s his cover, he is having prankish fun and he’s really not mean although he does reach a limit when he’s losing and will snort and bark. He did end up barking at me and I called the Floorman. He went broke in the hand and left only to appear in the $10-20 blind NLH a little bit later. Before he left us, he was heads-up, facing an all-in bet which would bust him. He thought about it for a minute or longer and ended up turning one of his cards face up to get a reaction from his opponent. No reaction. He called the bet and went bust.

Another player in the 4s pointed out that he thought the hand was dead when a card was shown, he added that it was in most rooms he played in - including The Mirage. I stated that to my knowledge, as long as the play was heads-up, cards could be shown but I would get a decision. I did. The decision was that it was legal in heads-up play.

There was a helluva lot going on in this game. Lots of noise, action, reaction, and I was thankful to get pushed into a sedate little $30-60 Holdem game.

*****

My next game was $15-30 Holdem. The 3s had obviously never lost a hand in his poker playing career until I sat down in the box. About the third hand I dealt, he went heads-up with the 1s and lost. She tipped me and he snorted, “Did I tip you?”

I didn’t even look up or acknowledge this idiot question. I would have liked to have said, “You should! I could put your money to a lot better use than you are.”

He won a few pots and then towards the end of my down, he lost another one. “You are the kiss of death!”

I pushed the pot and as I pulled the deck together and shuffled, I gave him direct eye contact. He looked away. I wanted to fall out of my chair laughing but I kept a straight face. After all, you players that know what’s going on really need people like him in the game.

*****

Previous post - the ‘blonde’ - name is Carmel. I get a charge out of her and the havoc she seems to create in the games. It’s not as if she sets out consciously trying to create it yet there it is, the big Havoc Whirlwind, spinning around her when she steps into the poker room. Perhaps the whirlwind is a manifestion from her subconscious and only appears in the poker room or at the table, but from the way she carries herself and acts, I would guess it jump starts as soon as WAKE UP hits her senses.

I was in my third $2-5 blind NLH game and she was in the first one I dealt. A seat opened in my game and she was supposed to move into it (must move game).

The twist? A good looking black guy, (he was the one that was offered $50 to bust her last night - see previous post), was in my game. She didn’t want to play with him at her table. She went to the Floor Person.

The guy in our game told us why. She had tried to call Security on him on the previous night. She called him an asshole, he called her a bitch.

She thought he should be removed because of that…the ‘b-e-itch thang’. Of course calling someone an asshole is always ok. The Floor Person must have told them both to drop it because Security never made the scene.

The Floor Person, on this night, did let her slide until a seat opened in the other main game so she wouldn’t be forced to play in the same game with him - that’s not unusual if someone is really in conflict with another player.

After I moved to my next game, I could hear them laughing and joking in the game behind me, “I want security…”

I’m sure she could hear them because she has moved to the table in front of them and most of the spin had to be for her benefit.

There’ll be another episode. That little Havoc Whirlwind isn’t about to lay down and whisper the last, soft sigh of a spent breeze.

All the company finally went back where it came from and my home away from home has settled down. It’s back to normal. In other words…Tournament Time is over! Everyone seems to be in tournament mode. Not just the players, but every casino in the world offers them. I wonder how long the pockets of the players can handle all the money that goes into tournaments and never returns to live play. Color me stupid here but how can all those millions in satellites, tournament buy-ins, etc., just keep being pushed into one big pot and split up between 20 or 30 players and still leave any gristle for the daily grinders? Sure they’re exciting if you win but how many can you afford to slam money into without taking a beating on your daily expenses and bankroll? Ok…’nuff said on that subject.

One $4,000-8,000 Mixed game on table 1 with all the usual suspects and a few other high limit games on ‘top’ but luckily for me, it wasn’t in my line-up. I started in the part of the room that’s just grin and giggle, no frills, no chills, and away I went. Lots of ‘friendlies’. No glares, no cards flying at my fingers, no one knew the house rule better than me, no one said a harsh word…wow! Love it!

*****
I dealt four $2-5 blind NLH games tonight. In the second game, a discussion started about a young, blonde woman that played and talked the action through every hand. One of the players told me I would know her if I saw her. I couldn’t put a face on any particular blonde that I’d dealt to in NLH. Sure enough, in the fourth one I dealt, she was in my game. The person that had started the conversation earlier, looked over from the table next to me and motioned that ‘this was the one’. I didn’t know her. But I definitely won’t forget her.

She wasn’t a ‘hottie’, by Vegas standards, but she definitely had her own arrogant charm. She also had some kind of war going on with most of the table because (in her absence) I was told if the 9s busted her, a player from the game behind us would give him an additional $50 and I would get 10% of that. I said I’d just deal and leave that alone.

She had a special war going on with the 4s. I’ve dealt to him before but he’s not a regular. He appears to fancy himself as being a great player and in control of the action at all times. They ended up heads-up in one hand. Truthfully I can’t remember how the action went because it was just another poker hand to me…the end of it was what set it apart. I believe he bet $25 and she raised him a $100 or so. He thought about it for quite some time, never looking at her, just staring at the board and then down the table. He finally folded with something like, “You think you’re some kind of Ivy Leaguer.”

She calmly replied, “I think you can blow me.”

I almost spit. The 7s couldn’t stop laughing. When the table started to twitter, I said, “Come on kids. Let’s just play poker.”

They did.

I sailed out the door to the escape hatch a few hours later without hitting a snag on a hidden coral reef. Sweet! There’s no place like home.