Swings
I watched the Hornets crush the Mavs much to Tex's dismay. Of course I weathered bad beat after bad beat before the poker even started.
1. Took me 30 minutes to get to I-10 from my house. On a normal day that's a 5 to 10 minute trip.
2. Took a cab from harrahs to the arena. The fare is $7.00 for an arena event or the fare on the meter whichever is less. Oddly, when the meter reached 7 the cab driver told me it'd be another 10 minutes and I'd be better off walking. We were stopped at the back of a line at a light. I said fine and got out and hoofed the rest. I get to the light to turn the corner and the last couple of blocks were clear sailing. Well played sir.
2.5 As I'm late, see number 1, Tex hangs out at the smoking section and gives me his ticket and mine. Can't remember which one he scanned. When I get to the lady of course I lose the coinflip and chose wrong. When I offer the other ticket you'd have thought I tried to board an airplane with a bazooka. Finally security lets me pass after the other ticket works. I still get the supicious eye from everybody there and had to explain myself to a team of security "experts." Well played security.
3. At halftime we walked almost completely around the stadium looking for the Copelands club lounge to get half-time refreshment. Only to discover we overwalked it. When we found it we waited in line for the remainder of halftime and into the third quarter. Then when we reached the front of the line, we watched some late comers amble up in between the two lines. The lady who had just finished helping the people in front of us, ducked down to restock something and suddenly loses her barings. She, to put it kindly, would have had trouble not being held back at a special school. She started serving the new group of people even though she had to move three steps to her left to do so.
Of course the big tap she had been leaning on taking everybody else's orders is now in front of us and not them. To not insult her we asked who our server was. She replied we needed to get in a line. We inform her we'd been in line, in plain sight for 20 minutes, and the people she was serving just walked up. They made guilty faces, but being in business attire perhaps made them innocent. The server told us "Oh, hell no," because she'd been serving that line all night, pointing to the people fresh to the longue.
The people behind us in line, waiting just as long as we had, groused (my word of the day) and walked to the other side of the bar to immediately get served. We get ignored. We ask for a manager. By now the johnny-come-latelys have a line behind them. We explain we've been in line all night, but turn around and no-one is behind us--everybody had headed for calmer waters. We realized we had no credibilty. Tex offers a $20 tip to anybody that will serve us. Suddenly, their mood to us changed. When we get back to our seats we soon discover there is a comparable lounge just below us. Well played Arena.
4. Three yahoos from the nosebleeds are sitting in our seats. In fact, the lady that had been sitting to our left has nicely moved to an open seat by the aisle to accommodate them. To quote an Arena worker "Oh, hell no." They get up with no protest. No sure why they thought in a playoff game they'd find seats open at halfcourt 20 rows back at a sellout but they tried. Tex promptly spills a beer on the seats of the two in front of us when we stand after another one of CP3's 10 million assists. To be nice to the couple standing in front he offers to clean it up. He looks for the freebie the Hornets gave us, a towel with local lawyer Morris Bart's slogan, "It's just that easy," on it, only to realize the interlopers had taken it with them. So much for his son getting a souvenir. Well played Seat Thieves.
5. The game ends and we hit Harrahs. On one big early hand I get to the turn and I suss out my opponent is raising me light. I use a couple of my tell detectors and he fails them. He's uncomfortable talking and returns my real smile with a fake one. I make a huge call for about $400 with third pair (7s). He's got pocket 4s. Guy says he folded a 4. Awesome, that means I know when the last 4 hits it'll be a one outer. Hello 4. Goodbye $400. Well played uneasy bluffer.
6. I have a set. Guy hits his gutshot calling me down to the river. Well played mensa member.
7. Guy runs down my pocket aces despite my go away bets when his third pair is joined by his crummy kicker pairing up. That was of course the time as he said, "Dang, I thought you were bluffing." Well played donkfish.
8. Stay all night to win most of it back. Tex also endures a similar run swing and recovery. Cocktail waitresses and dealers are the only ones profiting. Well played service industry.
9. At the lone table at the crack of dawn, Stone Cold Steve Austin look-a-like and sound-a-like sits to my right. He says amusing thinks like "Suffering Succatash" and other cartoon references--coming from a man that imposing it's funny. Seems an agreeable sort. He takes off his shirt with a prominent swastika tatoo. Okay, not so agreeable. I proceed to bluff him out of two pots where he shows me big hands I wouldn't have folded. Of course on the third one we play I got Queens. He flops top pair (9) to go with his A kicker. I bet hard. He calls. This time I can't possibly have it he grouses. Don't you love it when the timing is in your favor. The turn is another brick. I bet large again, he stews and calls and grouses some more. The river is a blank also. He checks again. I look at this stack. My next bet would be for it all. I consider a minor value bet to let him off the hook. Then I see him turning a little shade of angry red. Not quite the guy I want to piss off... um check... time to go home if I'm not there to take my opponents money I shouldn't be there. Well played inner puss.
On the horizon, Jazzfest is this weekend. I imagine I'll be at Harrahs quite often over the next couple of days. Wonder if I'll outdo this night of celebrity and celebrity lookalikes sightings: Mitt Romney, Stone Cold Steve Austin, Krista Allen (at the game and really her), Corey Feldman, Eric Roberts.
www.gulfcoastpoker.net
1. Took me 30 minutes to get to I-10 from my house. On a normal day that's a 5 to 10 minute trip.
2. Took a cab from harrahs to the arena. The fare is $7.00 for an arena event or the fare on the meter whichever is less. Oddly, when the meter reached 7 the cab driver told me it'd be another 10 minutes and I'd be better off walking. We were stopped at the back of a line at a light. I said fine and got out and hoofed the rest. I get to the light to turn the corner and the last couple of blocks were clear sailing. Well played sir.
2.5 As I'm late, see number 1, Tex hangs out at the smoking section and gives me his ticket and mine. Can't remember which one he scanned. When I get to the lady of course I lose the coinflip and chose wrong. When I offer the other ticket you'd have thought I tried to board an airplane with a bazooka. Finally security lets me pass after the other ticket works. I still get the supicious eye from everybody there and had to explain myself to a team of security "experts." Well played security.
3. At halftime we walked almost completely around the stadium looking for the Copelands club lounge to get half-time refreshment. Only to discover we overwalked it. When we found it we waited in line for the remainder of halftime and into the third quarter. Then when we reached the front of the line, we watched some late comers amble up in between the two lines. The lady who had just finished helping the people in front of us, ducked down to restock something and suddenly loses her barings. She, to put it kindly, would have had trouble not being held back at a special school. She started serving the new group of people even though she had to move three steps to her left to do so.
Of course the big tap she had been leaning on taking everybody else's orders is now in front of us and not them. To not insult her we asked who our server was. She replied we needed to get in a line. We inform her we'd been in line, in plain sight for 20 minutes, and the people she was serving just walked up. They made guilty faces, but being in business attire perhaps made them innocent. The server told us "Oh, hell no," because she'd been serving that line all night, pointing to the people fresh to the longue.
The people behind us in line, waiting just as long as we had, groused (my word of the day) and walked to the other side of the bar to immediately get served. We get ignored. We ask for a manager. By now the johnny-come-latelys have a line behind them. We explain we've been in line all night, but turn around and no-one is behind us--everybody had headed for calmer waters. We realized we had no credibilty. Tex offers a $20 tip to anybody that will serve us. Suddenly, their mood to us changed. When we get back to our seats we soon discover there is a comparable lounge just below us. Well played Arena.
4. Three yahoos from the nosebleeds are sitting in our seats. In fact, the lady that had been sitting to our left has nicely moved to an open seat by the aisle to accommodate them. To quote an Arena worker "Oh, hell no." They get up with no protest. No sure why they thought in a playoff game they'd find seats open at halfcourt 20 rows back at a sellout but they tried. Tex promptly spills a beer on the seats of the two in front of us when we stand after another one of CP3's 10 million assists. To be nice to the couple standing in front he offers to clean it up. He looks for the freebie the Hornets gave us, a towel with local lawyer Morris Bart's slogan, "It's just that easy," on it, only to realize the interlopers had taken it with them. So much for his son getting a souvenir. Well played Seat Thieves.
5. The game ends and we hit Harrahs. On one big early hand I get to the turn and I suss out my opponent is raising me light. I use a couple of my tell detectors and he fails them. He's uncomfortable talking and returns my real smile with a fake one. I make a huge call for about $400 with third pair (7s). He's got pocket 4s. Guy says he folded a 4. Awesome, that means I know when the last 4 hits it'll be a one outer. Hello 4. Goodbye $400. Well played uneasy bluffer.
6. I have a set. Guy hits his gutshot calling me down to the river. Well played mensa member.
7. Guy runs down my pocket aces despite my go away bets when his third pair is joined by his crummy kicker pairing up. That was of course the time as he said, "Dang, I thought you were bluffing." Well played donkfish.
8. Stay all night to win most of it back. Tex also endures a similar run swing and recovery. Cocktail waitresses and dealers are the only ones profiting. Well played service industry.
9. At the lone table at the crack of dawn, Stone Cold Steve Austin look-a-like and sound-a-like sits to my right. He says amusing thinks like "Suffering Succatash" and other cartoon references--coming from a man that imposing it's funny. Seems an agreeable sort. He takes off his shirt with a prominent swastika tatoo. Okay, not so agreeable. I proceed to bluff him out of two pots where he shows me big hands I wouldn't have folded. Of course on the third one we play I got Queens. He flops top pair (9) to go with his A kicker. I bet hard. He calls. This time I can't possibly have it he grouses. Don't you love it when the timing is in your favor. The turn is another brick. I bet large again, he stews and calls and grouses some more. The river is a blank also. He checks again. I look at this stack. My next bet would be for it all. I consider a minor value bet to let him off the hook. Then I see him turning a little shade of angry red. Not quite the guy I want to piss off... um check... time to go home if I'm not there to take my opponents money I shouldn't be there. Well played inner puss.
On the horizon, Jazzfest is this weekend. I imagine I'll be at Harrahs quite often over the next couple of days. Wonder if I'll outdo this night of celebrity and celebrity lookalikes sightings: Mitt Romney, Stone Cold Steve Austin, Krista Allen (at the game and really her), Corey Feldman, Eric Roberts.
www.gulfcoastpoker.net
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