Part three of our turgid tale is here.
For the next hour, I only open two hands: once with Ajax, which I win when my bet on the turn gets no callers, and again with pocket fives, which I fold when the A-8-x flop is bet and raised ahead of me. I’m thrilled to be out of that hand when it goes into a heads-up-raising-fest-from-hell between Drunk Guy’s Dead Man’s hand, and Chicago, who holds a set of eights.
Chicago racks his chips, and can’t leave fast enough. He’s about halfway to the cashier before he comes back and flips a red chip to the dealer. A couple of hands later (8-3d: fold, A-4o: fold) he is replaced by a woman in her 40s. Short, short hair, no jewelry, light makeup, wears a black vest over a white blouse.
During the shuffle, I imagine her story:
Her name is . . . Rebecca. No, it’s Dianne. Yeah, Dianne. She moved to Vegas four years ago because she’s running away from something. Nothing criminal . . . probably a broken heart.
Las Vegas was the perfect destination: it’s running away from things, even if only for a weekend, and she knew she’d be blend in among the transient population of tourists and fortune-seekers.
“I’m moving to Las Vegas,” she told her sister one morning, while her niece played in a shaft of sunlight on the living room floor.
“Why?”
“I need a change.”
“But why Vegas?”
“I don’t know. It just feels right.”
She packed her apartment into a few boxes, and drove across Interstate 10, with Wayne Dyer and Neil Diamond for company.
She has an apartment in Henderson, and a job at Lindy’s in the Flamingo. The shifts are lousy, and so are the tips, but she’s in a dealer’s school right now, and has high hopes for the future. She has started over, and she is happy, if a little lonely.
About three weeks ago, she caught the eye of a poker dealer named Andy. Hold’Em has played an important part in their courtship, so here she is . . .
Or maybe she’s just another tourist . . . but making up people’s stories is fun for me, so that’s what I do.
She gives five twenty dollar bills to a chip runner.
“One hundred behind,” he says.
Dianne tells the dealer that she’d like to play this hand, and the cards are in the air.
I fold again, and get up to pee. When I come back, Moneymaker and Drunk Guy are standing up. They’ve probably dropped two hundred bucks between the two of them, but they don’t seem to mind at all.
“Dude, let’s go to Olympic Gardens,” Drunk Guy says.
“We were just there last night,” Moneymaker says.
“I know, dude!” Drunk Guy laughs, and they do that hitting-each-other’s-fist thing that seems to have replaced the high-five.
As they walk away, I catch Pungent’s eye. “I’m going to miss them,” he says with a glance at his chips. The dealer laughs, then the whole table laughs.
“Two seats open!” The Dealer says, and we get two new players:
Seat Two: Late 40s, golf shirt, baseball cap perched above a high forehead. His wife kisses him when he sits down, and walks off with a stack of bills. I immediately like this guy.
Seat Four: If Gabe Kaplan had massive male-pattern baldness, and sweat like Roger Ebert, he’d be sitting across from me right now. This guy looks so terrified when he hands two fifties to the chip runner, I’m convinced it’s an act . . . but why waste the effort at a 3-6 table? You know what I have to call him . . .
Kotter has a weird, nervous energy that would probably get him pulled out of line at the airport, and I notice that the players next to him slowly but deliberately move away from him. This shifts the whole table around, and I end up so close to the dealer, his left hand hits my elbow on the next few deals. I try to give him some room, but Golf Shirt is so close to me our knees bump together . . . which reveals a big, fat, juicy tell: when he likes his cards, he bounces his leg. This saves me a few “borderline” calls, which is pretty cool.
For another few orbits (that’s what I call it when the button goes around the table) I don’t see much of anything, but I don’t mind, because I’ve got Catherine Wheel and then The Cure on my iPod, and well over 100 bucks in profit stacked up in front of me. It’s also interesting to watch Kotter slowly bleed his stack away, one crying call at a time. When he finally does make a hand, it’s one of the most tragic things I’ve ever seen.
He’s in middle position, and Hipster has the button, and they go heads up on a flop of 6d-9s-8s. Kotter bets it out, just like he has every hand, so I put him on random cards, but probably an Ace, maybe A9, but I’ve gotten a pretty good read on Hipster, and I think he’s made a set. They fire bets at each other until it’s capped, and I pull one of my headphones out, so I can hear them talk.
The turn is the six of clubs. Kotter looks at the dealer and says, “What’s the most I can bet?”
“Six dollars, sir.”
Kotter picks up three chips in each hand, and deliberately slams each stack down in front of him. His eyes dart around the table; I avoid them.
Hipster frowns and says, “I raise.”
“Six again, sir,” the dealer says to Kotter.
“What?”
“It’s a six dollar raise, sir.”
“Oh. Okay. I want to raise him back.” The way he says it, it’s like he’s looking for permission. Weird.
“That’s six more to you,” the dealer says to Hipster.
“I call it.”
The dealer rakes some chips off the pot, and drops them into a little box that’s near his right hand. He burns the top card, and deals out the Ace of diamonds.
Golf Shirt mutters, “Someone’s got quads,” and we all look at Kotter. The sweat beads up so much on the top of his head, he looks like an ad for Turtle Wax.
“I bet six again,” he says, nodding his head excitedly, and slams his chips out in the same motion as before. I can hear Phil Gordon in my head: “That’s intended to make your opponent think you’ve got a strong hand when you’re weak. That’s usually a tell.” Dave Foley makes a joke that falls somewhere into that gap between really clever and really awful.
“Raise him!” Says Hipster.
Kotter seems insulted, and says to the dealer, “Tell him I want to re-raise.”
The dealer is so close to me, I pick up the tiniest hint of a smile turning up the corner of his mouth. “Okay, that’s another six dollars, sir.”
Slam! Slam!
Hipster laughs this time. “Re-raise him!”
“Betting is capped,” the dealer says. “Six dollars to call.”
“I call him!” Kotter says. This time he slams down a $5 chip and a $1 chip, and flips over the 8 and 6 of hearts. “FULL HOUSE!”
Hipster flips up his cards, and I hear Dianne gasp before I can see them: two nines.
The Dealer calmly says, “Nines full of sixes,” and pushes a mountain of chips to Hipster.
In slow motion, I turn my head back toward Kotter. I half expect to see him putting a gun into his mouth, but he just looks shocked.
The color has drained out of his face, and sweat drips off his nose as he says, “I . . . I had a full house . . . ”
“Jesus,” Golf Shirt says.
I feel genuinely sorry for the guy, but my survival instinct encourages me to keep my mouth shut.
Hipster tokes a dollar to the dealer, and just about the entire table chides him into giving more.
“Hey, that’s worth at least two dollars,” Pungent Nose says.
“Yeah, come on, man,” adds Trucker Hat. I notice that Trucker Hat exudes Cloutier-like intimidation.
Hipster gives in, and tokes another two bucks to the dealer as he racks his chips and walks away.
Our dealer is tapped on the shoulder for a shift-change. “Okay, good luck, everyone,” he says as he leaves. I wonder how many hands a day he sees like the one that just played out. I think about how I can’t wait to write this up when I get home, and I wonder if any of this sticks in his mind the way I’m sticking it in mine.
Our new dealer is quite friendly. He’s Rob, from North Dakota, but he went to college in New Orleans, and he’s really worried about Ivan.
As soon as he sits down, he says, “Did you all hear about Ivan? It’s going to make landfall right over New Orleans.” He shakes his head, “Man, that city is already twenty-two feet below sea level, and the storm surge will be over forty feet.” He looks around the table. “Everything that’s not brick or stone in that city could be gone in the morning.”
“I thought Ivan was bearing down on Florida,” I say.
“Nope, it turned again. New Orleans at four a.m.”
“Jesus.” Again I mark how lucky I am to be here and not there.
Rob shuffles, riffles, shuffles, shuffles, riffles and shuffles.
“Blinds, please,” he says, reaching across me to tap he felt in front of Golf Shirt, and pointing at Pungent Nose.
“Forty feet, man,” he says quietly to himself, and the cards fly.
Pungent calls. Kotter looks numbly at his cards, and folds. Trucker Hat folds, grabs a pack of Pall Malls from his shirt pocket, and walks away. Siegfried calls, Dianne calls, and it’s to me. I look down at 87o. It’s not a hand I like to play, but I’m starting to get a little antsy, and I am in late position . . . so I call. Golf Shirt checks.
“Five players,” Rob says.
The flop completely misses me. Pungent checks, Siegfried checks.
“Maybe it missed us all?”
Dianne bets.
“Maybe not.” I fold.
Golf Shirt calls, Pungent folds, Siegfried calls. The three of them go down to the River, and Golf Shirt picks up the pot with a split pair of Cowboys when his 9 outkicks Dianne’s 5.
This is the beginning of a rather frustrating run. For the next two or three orbits, whenever I get a marginal calling hand, I make the wrong choice. I get K-5 off-suit in early position, and when I fold it, the flop comes A-5-5. I get A-4 of clubs in late position, and when I call it, the flop is all spades. The most memorable hand is J-7 of hearts in early position. While I thought of calling, Golf Shirts started bouncing the hell out of his knee, so I folded . . . only to watch the Ace, King, and Five of hearts hit the flop. It ends up being a monster pot between Golf Shirt, who held Big Slick, and Siegfried, who made trips on the turn.
I know that I’m playing things “by the book,” so I’m not too upset — especially when I count my chips and realize that I’m still ahead well over one hundred bucks after just about two hours. I recall some Lou Krieger advice: “If you play it wrong on just one hand, you can completely wipe out everything you’ve earned in your session, so play ‘by the book,’ and stick to it!” I’m pretty sure that my rush has come and gone, and I should get up and leave, but a seductive voice in my head says: “Let’s just take down one more pot from these tourists, and then we’ll go.”
Ah, sweet hubris, how I love to hate thee.
Tomorrow: Part Five
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Yay! First one to comment!
Been following your adventures and it rocks!
Go Wil!
“Let’s just take down one more pot from these tourists, and then we’ll go.”
What books is that from? sounds like a BAD idea to me man.
-JasonR
DUDE! Olympic Gardens…
It’s always the last run down the mountain that you end up breaking a leg…
Though I suppose that’s true even if it’s your first run since breaking your leg would effectively make it your last.
Darn logical brain.
I loved the part where you made up the back- story for Diane. It was very film noir. I could imagine a deep and rugged voice reading the voice over in my head as I pictured her approaching the table. I also liked how you called yourself out on it at the end. It was a very fun way to return to your own voice.
I can’t wait for part 5!
Wil, How the hell do you remember all those card from those hands? Do you write them down or something?
The more you play hold’em, the more you realize just how much you don’t know. I used to think I was amazing at the game – then I moved up to some bigger tables and BAM. I just flat-out got outplayed.
Looking forward to the exciting conclusion – hope it doesn’t go as badly for you as mine usually do.
By the way, I know you were looking for a Linux friendly online game. I’ve been playing the Java hold’em at Pokerroom.com and its pretty decent. They give you $2000 of play money a day, so you can practice almost all you want.
I got a baaaad feeling about this….
I’m just STARTING to play hold’em. Online only (so far) and whenever I get in the “just take one more pot from them” when I’m doing well is when I get some horrible beat on the turn or something.;
Really enjoying the story Wil.
How can you play while listening to music?
This is turning into a real epic, Wil! I’m enjoying it.
I don’t know how I keep those cards clearly in my head, but I do write down the memorable hands when I get to my car (or in this case, back to my room.)
From time to time I may forget a card that’s a blank, so I’ll grab a deck off my desk here, and use whatever comes off the top, because I figure it’s more interesting to say, “The deuce of clubs” than “the turn was a blank.”
I listen to music because it helps me stay focused on the cards and the betting patterns. If I get chatty, or interested in someone else’s conversation, my game suffers. It also helps stave off boredom for those orbits where I keep finding rags.
Some poker writer said that if your poker game is exciting, you’re playing it wrong, and he was right.
I guess I know where I’m going when I’m in Vegas this weekend! Great story telling Wil. I feel like I’m there.
Jason – that’s true of any gambling. I was down 4C’s in BlackJack, won back $475 in one sitting and lost it all back just because I “wanted to hit $500”. The “just one more” has hit anyone that has ever sat at a table.
Of course, poker is more alluring IMHO because you play against other people, rather than the faceless house… then again that’s probably why I usually stick to Pai-Gow Poker!
And @Wil – keep the parts coming! It’s making for a very good multi-entry read so far!
Excellent story Wil.
Looking forward to Part Five.
This is the longest ongoing blog you’ve written in a long time, and I’m lovin it!
Great story, Wil. Can’t wait for the book on Poker Punks you’ll be publishing next year.
oh my cheezy poofs!
It sure sounds like it will be ‘fetters and chains’.
Worried about that Diane, she’s too cool headed.
I’m not a poker player. I don’t even understand the game. But, I gotta say Wil, you sure know how to write a story that keeps me coming back for more!
Tonight’s poker night for my coworkers and me. I might mention this story to the shark of the group. He’d get a kick out of it.
Come on part 5!
If it was writing you were betting on, you would be winning the pot!
Go Wil!
Yes! The Cure! If you dont have the new album yet, get it. Granted, Robert Smith is getting a little plump, but we don’t like them for the videos anyway *wink*
Hey Wil,
Great story….I could see the mini b & w film when you described Dianne…. in a very Steve Martin in Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid sort of way.
Can’t wait for the next part.
yay! Im all caught up and late for class!
Be waitin on tomorrow! 🙂
Wil, you do plan to write a poker book in the near future, yeah? Cause I’m loving the poker stories.
I’m going to Vegas for New Years, and all your little stories and worldly poker wisdom is really entertaining AND educational. Thanks!
Seconding Brandon’s comments. “Poker For Geeks” would be a fine next project, letting you distill down your two years of intense study into a friendly package, plus letting you interleave the instruction with more fun tales like this one.
“… we all look at Kotter. The sweat beads up so much on the top of his head, he looks like an ad for Turtle Wax.”
Made me laugh soda outta my nose!
DAMN YOU WIL AND YOUR FUNNY LINE!
Now how the hell am I gonna get the theme from Welcome back Kotter outta my mind?
Gambling is good for three things:
1) Losing money, self-esteem, and even more valuable things.
2) Challenging your mind for a while, until you start losing money, self-esteem, and even more valuable things.
3) Making money, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, sometimes not at all, after having learned enough, which usually comes after having lost money, self-esteem, and even more valuable things, such as respect for your fellow man.
If you’re having fun gambling, you’re not doing it right. Successful gamblers earn money by taking it from people. For a while, you can excuse yourself by saying the fish knew what could happen when they sat down, so they deserve it; but eventually enough stories like Kotter’s will get to you, and you will either quit, or stop caring.
One of the reasons I read WWDN is because Wil cares. It would be tragic if he stopped caring.
I know absolutely nothing about poker. I suppose it is a mark of your skill as a Writer that, although I have no idea what is going on, I am completely enthralled!
Between this, Odessa and whatever WPT allows you to blog about after they air the Hollywood edition you played, looks like you’ve got the makings of a poker book! One I’d buy for sure.
I love how you made up “Dianne’s” story. Great imagination, even though that story maybe be closer to truth than fantasy.
And please, tell me you didn’t refrain from singing a line of “Welcome Back” whenever “Kotter” got up from the table and sat back down. We have a similar guy around here, and every time he walks into my movie theatre, I always sing it.
Or maybe I’m just an ass. Anyway, can’t wait for part five! Excellent stuff, Wil!
Still loving the story Wil. I think I have the same qestion as someone else up there “How can you listen to music?” You answered that it helps you concentrait, but my questions is more along the lines of “They let you have electronic devices in a casino?” Even if it is an ipod, couldn’t you build some radio thingie and have someone telling you what to do in your ear?
Oh yeah! Travel Channel has a Hollywood edition of WPT scheduled for this Saturday (Oct. 2) at 12pm EST, and it’s the only Hollywood game on the schedule for the month. Could that one be yours? It mentions Lou Diamond Phillips as a player, but no sign of Uncle Willie…
Great point, Ross, about successful gamblers not just beating, but destroying their opponents. I don’t know if I have that in me.
Do you mind if I expolore that character trait when I take all these stories and rewrite them into a fictional novella? I think it would be a fabulous internal struggle.
As far as I know, there’s no rules against iPods or walkmans, Toriko. To get advice from someone, you’d need radio communication, which is totally verboten, and could get one “back roomed,” so it’s not really an issue. But I’ve seen all those specials on Travel Channel about cheaters, and they always seem to cheat in stupid-but-successful ways, so maybe someone will try it.
Lou Diamond Phillips is not on the same HHG as me, Eric. As far as I know, my episode airs sometime before the end of the year, but I don’t know when.
I guess they would have a way of knowing if someone was using radio or something like that. The only Cheaters shows I’ve seen are ones where people use special sunglasses and some gel in their hair to mark blackjack cards.
Message in preparation: interesting story; however, I believe it to be in dire need of more obscenities.
This is like watching other people play by peeking over their shoulder and hearing their thoughts.
Wil, you’ve got a real gift at describing a scene. Reading this part is like, “You Are There At The 3-6 Table At The Mirage.”
The brief Celebrity Poker Showdown nod in the middle is perfectly timed, too. It reminds me of my wife watching the program and saying, “I like Phil Gordon.” (Which is why she likes CPS, but not the WPT or WSOP shows…)
That last line seems to indicate disaster coming for Uncle Willie. I hope not, but I’ll be on the edge of my seat until I find out!
First… I’m amused at the explanation for “orbit” because those who are unfamiliar with the “button” are still scratching their heads 🙂
And beware of marginal starting hands. Sometimes it seems like you miss a monster flop by folding them, but marginal hands make great “second best” hands, and nothing costs you more money at a the poker table.
For example, the 8-6 of hearts turned into a full boat… but lost to a better boat. I’m pretty sure I fold 8-6 suited with regularity!
One more pot eh?
*hugs you and hopes you don’t think she’s insane* I make up stories about people too! Not as good as yours, but I try.
Wil, This is off topic, but I really hope you get the part on that TV show. It’ll be great seeing you act again. Not that I think you are the greatest actor in the world, but I think you are a genuinely cool guy that I like to see on screen.
To quote a phrase from Kevin Smith, “You were DA BOMB in Deep Core, Yo!” (but you should have gotten more touchy feely with the prostitutes)
Keep up the great work. I’m gonna try taking my Ipod to the cardroom and see how it works. I’m afraid of looking rude to the other people at the table, but I like the idea of listening to tunes while playing.
dude! quite a yarn!
Wil, I just love reading these poker stories. The down side is that they make me wish I could fly out to Vegas and play, which I can’t. The upside is that the way you write them, I feel like I was there.
Keep ’em coming!
Wil,
Good story. You may have another book on your hands.
FG
Love these poker stories. Especially the way you cliffhang us on them…keeps us coming back for more! Noticed earlier on in the story you mentioned that you were reading Song of Susannah. Isn’t The Dark Tower a great story? Definitely his magnum opus IMHO anyway. I am reading The Dark Tower book 7 right now.
Hey W,
I love your stories but I have to go watch another W on the TV.
Later!
Freeman 🙂
Waiting for you to take down the Hipster with the Hammer!!
Thought I posted this before, but it didn’t show up …
I love the idea (of an internal struggle), Wil. It would certainly make the story more interesting to me.
If you haven’t read it before, take a look at localroger’s A Cas…ino Odyssey on kuro5hin. (dots added to prevent me from being autoblacklisted. Sad, how I have to use the same techniques spammers use.)
First of all, I don’t really know much about poker. I played a few hands about 14 years ago…but I still love to read your stories.
BUT, my favorite part of Part Four is where you made up a story for Dianne. I love to people-watch at malls or big places, and always like to think that everyone has a story. Ordinary lives can’t be that boring or the networks would have stopped producing the reality shows a long time ago. I don’t watch them myself but I always like to wonder about people…
…for example, there is this little old lady that walks around the town where I live. I see her at different times of the day. She is a part of the landscape almost…but I’ve never met her. Yet her presence is familiar to me. I wonder what her story is but I don’t know…I only know her routine.
So, Wil, you can’t see all of us but several people comment on a regular basis…have you made up stories for us too? 🙂