Assault and Battery

”You only wear a dress like that if you want the rest of the table to think you’re playing with Daddy’s money.

I’m curious if that quote from Tilt applies to $1/$2 No Limit Poker or not, because she played every bit the part of a real life wet dream in that red dress.

It had taken hours to get a table on Friday night. So long to get some action, as a matter of fact, that G-Rob and Al started to get fidgety.

“How much from here?” G-Rob was gesturing with his empty six ounce water bottle at a trash can about thirty five feet away. “Ten to one?”

“I’ll give you three to one,” I offered, “From right there.”

“Weak. Al? Ten to one from here? C’mon…”

Al took a look at G-Rob, the empty bottle, and the trash can in succession. I can’t be sure, but I think he even licked his finger and raised it above his head, not that the trade winds were gusting through the ballroom now bereft of tournament action. “Ten to one. Let’s see it.”

I’m not sure G-Rob played sports as a kid. A natural lefty, he raised the bottle above his head and tossed a dart that skipped its way to the goal, glancing harmlessly off the trash can in the process.

“Didn’t your dad ever teach you to step into your throws?” I was cracking on him to be sure, but he certainly didn’t make his bread in high school throwing middle relief with that noodle attached to his shoulder.

Al, like myself, was a catcher growing up. We’ve got virtual howitzers popping out of our sleeves, but as I had long since retired mine, I let Al take his crack at the can. “Do I get ten to one from here too?” G-Rob nodded, and Al popped the cap off the water bottle and tipped his head back to slug it down to throwing weight.

I really believe the difference was in the ounce of water Al left in the bottle as ballast. Well, that and he doesn’t throw like he’s afraid of being laughed at like a little girl. Thunk! The bottle was dead-on, and was thrown with enough heat to rock the can on its heels just a little bit in the process.

“You got action on this?” Some dude and his buddies wandered into the fray as they watched G-Rob toss Al his bones. “What’s the game?”

After a little preliminary negotiation, it was decided that one of the guy’s crew was going to get a shot to sink a bottle from the same thirty feet. G-Rob, knowing how difficult the throw was with an empty bottle, was smart enough to bet the Don’t Pass line this time. Dude drained the bottle, capped it, and stared the can down to get a feel for the necessary arc and velocity.

He went for the lob. Bad idea. Instead of hitting the can, he two-hopped it to the pole. Everyone in the vicinity went nuts. The losers groaned, the winners celebrated, and we caused a hell of a scene.

Enough of a scene, in fact, that a rather well-dressed local who was wearing his papers on his lapel felt obligated to shut our little game down. That’s right. The Bahamanian Gaming Control Board put a stop to our side action on the spot. I asked the gentleman if the Board would like a piece of the action to allow us to continue, but apparently the game wasn’t approved by the government, so we were stuck.

Stuck waiting for a new table of $1/$2 No Limit to open up, that is. I had gotten us all on a list, and instead of being seated at a game already in progress, we waited as a group to be seated together. Hopefully, by the time they finished the tournament chip count and got all the mess from the day’s event cleaned up, Otis would be off shift and able to sit down at our table and play.

11PM hits, and they finally give our group the call to the post. While Eva went out into the lobby to fetch the other guys, I was directed to the table. I was the second to arrive. Already in the 5s was Jeanne. Polynesian, young, gorgeous, and showing enough décolletage in that red dress to where I knew I was going to have a problem staring. I took the 7s, hoping perhaps Ralph Sampson or Refrigerator Perry might take the seat between us to obscure my view. She was riffling chips in her right hand, and her left hand was doing that sliding-up-and-down-the-nine-inch-stack-of-chips-I-made thing. Where was I again? What’s my name? Can you tickle the stack just under the top with your fingernail for me? Yeah… that’s the spot.

“We can go heads-up if you’d like, how about it?” was her introduction to me. Uh… I think I mumbled something back to her about waiting for my friends or something smooth to that effect. Coherent conversation is not my biggest asset when it comes to being (effectively) alone with a good looking woman.

The players were mercifully starting to populate the table, and once we had a quorum, the cards were in the air. The table, to the best of my recollection…

1s – a young guy, followed by another young European guy with facial piercings
2s – Mrs. Can’t Hang
3s – Terrence Shaw (was playing in the main event)
4s – older dude
5s – Jeanne in the red dress
6s – Mr. Gullible
7s – BG
8s – Jodi, the soft-spoken photographer from PokerStars
9s – Al
10s – G-Rob

Very first hand we saw a flop of AAK. I quipped, half under my breath, “Who says online poker isn’t rigged?” and got a few chuckles. That hand was relatively uneventful.

Hand two, however, featured Al making the first pre-flop raise of the table, setting the $10-$15 range as the cost of doing business from that point forward. He got a caller when older dude wanted to see the flop.

QQQ.

Who says online poker isn’t rigged?

I’m going to let Al tell you how he played this one, assuming of course that he remembers. I will tell you that Al did have the case Queen, and he did manage to get every last dollar extracted out of older dude’s stack. Brilliant play, and yes I did just say that Al made a “brilliant play.”

G-Rob was also in the mood for some early aggression, and quite a bit of table talk as well. As far as his poker strategy with his chips and cards is concerned, he strikes me as a man after my own heart. Variance is a bitch to people like he and I, as we tend to swing for the fences maybe a little more often than we should. He pushes his stack around, and seems to hope that a few loose calls will turn into a few monster pots somewhere down the road.

Like I said, a man after my own heart.

But it’s the table talk tonight, far more so than the play, that’s keeping me amused. “I’ve never played live poker before,” is G-Rob’s early mantra. I’m not certain anyone at the table believes him, but he does take Mr. Gullible for a couple of rides a little later on. First, there’s the “I own a bar in Aruba. It’s right next to the Hilton, and it’s called Slick Cheese.” thing. Mr. Gullible seems to adore Aruba (which is funny, because I had him pegged as a child prostitution in Thailand sort of guy – now watch my Google referrals pile up), and wants to talk nothing but Aruba with G-Rob.

By the way, seconds after I told Mr. Gullible that I was from Michigan, G-Rob tells him I’m from Aruba too. Nice. Way to hang me out to dry. I concocted some sort of cover story about being a consultant for his business, and I really have never been anywhere in Aruba besides Slick Cheese, because my consulting business doesn’t allow me to do much besides work. Had he asked, I would have told him I’m an expert in culinary procurement, specializing in Northern Caribbean and Mexican import laws. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have wanted to get into that conversation with me, especially if you know how worked up I am about the recent perversions to Mexican produce tariffs and the trade embargo on non-domestic coffee in Jamaica.

Anyway, the other thing G-Rob did early on, which was just fucking brilliant, was answering Mr. Gullible’s question about how G-Rob seemed to know he was bluffing when he re-raised him. “You have a tell.” That’s all he said as he was stacking Mr. Gullible’s chips up from that pot. “I have a tell? What is it?” G-Rob just shook his head, as if he wasn’t about to share trade secrets.

That really set Mr. Gullible’s world on tilt. He got ridiculously timid with the cards, and bugged G-Rob consistently for the next two hours to just give up the info and tell him what his tell was already. He was already a moron, at least someone had the good sense to neuter him and prevent him from becoming a maniac.

In the meantime, I’m bleeding some chips away slowly on some dubious calls. I give a few to G-Rob, and quite a few to Jeanne when both re-raise my aggression on some flops I missed wide. I was down $40 from my original $100, and bought myself back up to a full stack while slapping some goddamn sense into my head to play better cards.

Something must have worked, but it didn’t hurt that the deck started hitting me over the head either.

Pocket Aces in the hole, and I’m geeked. I’m the one to raise (to $15) and Jeanne follows me into the pot. QQJ on the flop (who says online poker isn’t rigged?). She checks, and I push all-in.

Whoops. She calls immediately.

Now, this isn’t like you see it on TV where they flip the cards and you get to see how far ahead or behind you are. I never actually got to see Jeanne’s cards in the hole, but they were either KQ or KJ, of that I’m almost absolutely certain. Most likely KQ. The minute she called, I knew I was behind.

The turn, however, brought a beautiful Ace. “I hope that’s my help right there,” I said, even though I was pretty sure that she didn’t have me beat anymore. The river was something irrelevant, and I flipped over my Aces and apologized for sucking out…

…Well, actually, the apology went something like this:

”Hey Jeanne? I’m sorry for sucking with that Ace and all, but to tell you the truth, my ex-wife was named Jean and she was a complete bitch, and I’ve got to tell you that taking money off a woman named Jeanne is actually quite emotionally satisfying. But still, I’m sorry about sucking out and all.

Eva told me she was laughing. I couldn’t see anything above her collarbone.

All of a sudden I’m the big stack at the table, and loose-aggressive BG came out for an appearance.

You’ve got to understand, I really like loose-aggressive BG. He does play some crazy hands in horrible, crazy ways from time to time, but when he catches cards, he’s virtually unstoppable.

Poor G-Rob got in the way. K4s in the SB, and after Al folded UTG, G-Rob comes in with a $5 raise. $5? Shit, I’ll see a $5 raise…

…into a 449 board. I check, and I know G-Rob is going to bet whether he has a nine or not. He pops the pot for $15, and I notice the two clubs on the board and bounce it to $50. That throws G-Rob into the tank. He takes another look at his cards and somehow decides that I don’t have the stones. He’s all-in for another $80.

And you’re damn right I’m calling that. To add insult to injury, the next card is a King. I turn them over, G-Rob kicks himself, and I announce loudly, “They were soooted.” He owned up later to having A9, but I think there’s an off chance he actually had JJ or QQ, as he’s as liable to lie about it as he is to tell the truth.

I’m way up at this point, having tripled my way to about $360. I steal a few small ones, piss some chips back to the table, and as soon as Al busts out for good, I chase him and Otis out to the bar.

On a side note, you heart needs to bleed for Otis right now. He signed some work permit thing with the Bahamanian government that he didn’t really need to, and that one unnecessary signature prevented him from so much as dropping a nickel in a slot machine. Let me put this plainly: Otis can’t play poker in the Bahamas.

In what was just a little too cool, I was in line to cash out behind Humberto Brenes, who pocketed $2300 at the $5/$10 PLO game right behind my table. I don’t know what he bought in for, but I’m guessing that’s not a huge night of profits for him. I think 50BB is an okay buy in for a NLHE table, but PLO? He may have actually been down for the night with that cash out.

I cashed out (after stashing a $1 chip in my pocket as a souvenir) $314, putting my profit at $174 for the night. Damn, did that feel good – especially with Jeanne and Terrence at the table. Both knew what they were doing, and were better players than I am to be certain.

I caught Al on the way to the bar and he asked how I did. All I could say was:

”They should bring that deck up on charges of assault and battery. It was hitting me over the head and just would not stop.”

And if I was going to survive another day in paradise without hitting the ATM again, +$174 was almost exactly what it was going to take.