Friday Night

Friday in Atlantic City was a bit of a wasted day.  By "wasted" I mean no poker was played (till night) and I didn't get much done.  I did check out of Borgata and Wolfie and I headed over to Absecon (sp?) to check in at a Marriott Fairfield, which was 5 min away and quite cheap.  But before check in we headed to Ocean City as Wolfie needed 17 buckets of caramel corn and I wanted to get Sugar Bear a souvenir.  Last time I went to AC I brought him those little ketchup and mustard bottles that you get with room service.  I promised him something better this time.  The problem was there was nothing at Borgata that he'd like, or in Absecon for that matter, so I was hoping Ocean City would be the answer.

Not so.

It was a beautiful day but 98% of the shops were closed.  The only things open were Mank & Manco's Pizza, the caramel corn place and a jewelry store.  Blah.  Nothing for a 13 yr old boy.***  And it took us forever to find and "open" caramel corn place.  OMFG Anyway, after we had a few metric tons of caramel corn on board we had "linner".....a combo of lunch and dinner, at a nice seafood place.  I got some yummy shrimp and a salad, which was delish.  BTW I had shrimp 2 days in a row at the Borgata food court as well.  I think I'm all shrimped out.

Wolfie had something fucking gross.

Ugh.

He had snails.

Double Ugh. I have a weak stomache!  Future selections will have to be preapproved by moi! Last time I was in AC with Wolfie he had "scrapple" with his breakfast.  Another double ugh.   Next time the only thing Wolfie will be allowed to order is chicken parmigiana - whether it be for breakfast, lunch or dinner.

But I digress....

We checked in and decided to hit the Taj Majal poker room.  There was a daily tourney that night and we figured it would be good to see a different poker room - different from Borg or Harrah's.

I did NOT like the Taj poker room and will probably never return.  It was small and had an air of desperation about it.  My tourney wasn't starting for about a half hour and they weren't accepting buy ins at that point, so I bought some redbirds to sit down at the 1-2 NL game.  The guy that sold me the chips was an Indian (dot, not feather).  He wished me luck and then told me he'd give me special luck.  With that, he prayed over my chips for me.  Quite seriously might I add.  When it was over he handed me the chips and murmured "Special luck for you".

Oooooooo  Never look a gift horse in the mouth!

I sat down at the table, ready to begin my night of drinking.  I hadn't been drinking the whole trip and baby, it was time.  As soon as the waitress came over I placed my order.  "A pino grigio please".

We don't have that.

"Oh, what kind of wine do you have?"

We don't have wine.

What. The. Fuck.

That's how dingy a place the Taj Mahal Poker Room was.

So instead of having a nice few glasses of wine, I was forced to drink TEQUILA.  Insert picture of wheels falling off.....but not just yet.

The table seemed quite happy about my second choice of drink.  I hadn't played a hand yet.....until I was the big blind.  I had 6-3 diamonds on the button.  First 4 peeps fold and then a guy makes it $10 to go.  One other guy calls and I decide to defend my big blind, and throw in another $8 for shits and giggles.

Flop is 4diamonds, 2diamonds and a jack.  Original raiser makes it $20 and the other guy folds.  I call with a flush draw, inside straight draw and the highly  unlikely inside straight flush draw.

Turn is the 5 of diamonds!  Straight flush!  I think about the guy praying over my chips and smile.  The guy bets another $20 and I raise it up to $50.....thinking he can't fold to such a small raise.

He bets the river and I jam all in.  He's a loud mo' fo' and he's talking away.  Finally he ends his rant with "You have shit.  Absolute shit.  I know you have nothing but I'm going to fold this anyway."

I turn over my straight flush and say "If you call this shit..."

He erupted like a mad man.  Like a crazy person.  "Why were you even in this hand?  How could you call my raise with that?"  Screaming.  He has a bit of chips left and he scooped them up and left.  Walked out of the poker room.  2 minutes later he comes running back in just to yell at me more.  "And how do you call my bet after the flop? You shouldn't even be playing"  On and on.  He actually left again, and came back again, just to rant some more.  Crazy guy that said he'd had alot of bad beats that night. 

Anyway, at this point I signed up for the tourney, which was only 15 peeps.  Blah. I had 7 peeps at my table and 5 of them had just come from a texas holdem lesson/seminar.  I shit you not.  They were clutching the handouts they'd just received and had papers that said they'd "passed".  WTF.  Why did I sign up for this?  This is not a tournament!!!  Thank God the lovely tequila lady (the waitress) kept me in mind, which helped the pain a bit.....but not enough.  The guy to my left was a giggler.  A giggler that was in every fucking hand.  And he giggled at every move he made and every win.  He was winning alot too.  In the first hour he called an all in with A-9 offsuit and won.  And then he won with J-5....and took a peep out.  You could raise to a gazillion and he would call.  He'd call even before he amassed his huge stack, so at this point it was a no brainer for him.  The giggling was just killing me though.  I had both ear pods in and the volume blasting yet it couldn't quite cover the noises coming from him completely.

I decided to do the only thing I could in this situation.  Wait for a big hand and shove, knowing I'd get called.  Sure enough just that happened.  Twice.  3 hours later I took the giggler out myself with K-K.  At that point he'd lost all of his chips so it was no great feat but it made my day.  As soon as he left, the guy in the 4 seat, an indian (feather, not dot) smiles at me and says "You didn't like him, did you?"

Erm, no.

"You're nice.  I like you." he tells me, with a big shit eating grin.  He had a wicked cool Indian name, which I completely forget, unfortunately.  Perhaps that's because I kept calling him "Playing with Fire" and "Dances with Josie".  lol.  I am soooo PC.

In the end......I didn't cash.  There were only 2 peeps in the money for this "tournament" and 4 hours later I was A.) Out in 4th place and B.) Wicked drunk.

Time to visit my boy Wolfie!

Wolfie was playing something like Omaha High Low with a Twist for Alot of Money. Something like that.  Something I do not know how to play.  Actually, I think it was a $10-$20 limit game with a kill.  Ever heard of a kill?  Me neither!  Till that game, anyway.

So I was watching Wolfie playing *yawn* when a spot opened up at the table.  There was a long list waiting for that spot, but don't forget the theme for the rest of this story....I was drunk. 

So they're calling the names on the list and no one is showing up to claim the seat, so when the next set of initials is called I say "That's me!" and sit my ass down.  I still have those chips from the 1-2nl game earlier.

I sat down to Wolfie's left.  I don't remember a helluva lot more after this, except when he'd limp in the pot I'd raise.  :)  I can't help it Wolfie, it's just my nature!  And then even though I had shit, I'd win.  And win.  And get lucky on the river.  :)

And kept getting that fucking kill button, which meant i had to put extra chips in the next pot.  Pissed me off.

Wolfie drove my drunk ass home after waiting for me a while longer, mumbling that I cost him $100.  :)  I usually cost guys more than that!

Play smart and drunk.  Hmmmm perhaps both tonight.  I have a bunch of days off!

Josie

***So that this point I still don't have a souvenir for Evan except for more of those tiny ketchup bottles.  Fawk.  Wolfie and I were going to play at Harrah's Chester tomorrow before my flight.  He tells me that they have a gift shop there.  Okay.  I decide I'll find something there.  And I do.  But the only shit at Harrah's Chester is poker shit.  And Sugar Bear doesn't like poker very much.  I end up getting him a WSOP t-shirt.  (I mean,wouldn't YOU like that?  I know I would.) Plus a globe key chain and a liberty bell from the philly airport.  Does that smack of desperation?  It should.

He HATED the t-shirt.  "You got me an I LOVE POKER t-shirt? How could you?"

"erm....didja see the liberty bell?  besides you could use that tshirt to sleep in."

I suck.  Once again, he was thrilled with the little ketchup bottles though.