I walk to the car, try to metaphorically wipe the bird crap off my shoulders and contemplate how my bankroll got severely lightened on the day. I recall the fun hands where I got hurt, such as the one when I raised preflop and got a few callers. Flop was 882. I fire out an almost pot size bet and I get a caller. Turn is another 2. I make the same bet and get a call. River is 6 or so. I check, he checks. I show 99. Dealer is about to hand me the pot as he shows 7-2. He points to the deuce for her benefit and the turned full house. At first I think he's doing it for me rubbing it in a bit. My frustration is evident and I fire him a look, then I realize who is dealing, and see that she still almost swept me the pot. She of the 8 deals per 30 minutes and two mistakes per down. You know who she is. The dealer you are suprised to see every time you play there thinking she'd be fired. Still, I wanted to be angry at the dude as even though he wasn't showing me up he was destroying ...
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Flash back to around 2000, said stone is still in existence, and my doorbell rings. It's Monday night, it's someone's birthday, and the Stone symbol is given. I have to be at work the next morning, and The Stone is 300 miles away. But you don't disrespect the Stone. Needless to say, about 12 hours later I return home and the car is about $800 richer than when we left. I won about $100 of that, and bought me a nice Stone polo shirt, which I still wear today, stains, holes and all. You don't throw out a Stone shirt. You just don't.
--G
10/18/97
Four of my degenerate friends and I hop into my car and we head north. We're closet degenerates at this point in our lives so we say we're going to see Syracuse host Temple in a football mismatch, but we know why we're really going.
2nd quarter and it's ugly. Maybe 42-0 or something like that (final ended up 60-7). It's time for some Stone. We get there and it starts off as good as it did for Temple. The cards aren't turning our way and the dice are making our chips disappear. Time for some eats to regroup then back to the tables.
Then, there she is. Goose and I spot the loveliest, most jittery Blackjack dealer you'll ever meet. Jennifer opens her table and the Stone's coffers for us. Five bucks (hey five bucks!) turns into ten, ten turns into twenty, and on it goes. The rest of the crew makes their way over and they join in on the fun. And by fun I mean winning lots of cash and watching Jennifer give me dirty looks when I tell her I'm splitting my 10s.
We all end up winners and the car returns home $1500 happier. Unconfirmed whether or not Jennifer had a restraining order against me.
--G