the Dark Horse Gets His Roll On

Sean was kind enough to host a poker night tonight. It has been Entirely Too Goddamned Long since such an event occured; my vice-like memory is telling me the last time was over at Aaron's when I met Sean for the first time was before Halloween. Anyway, with Aaron & Team Steve Big Unit Omar in tow we went into Mission Valley to have the game.

For some reason when Sean gets involved the game is quicker than usual--maybe because people get eliminated but instead don't buy back in. Omar gets bounced off of his buy-in in the first half-hour, and Aaron gets it going against both Sean and his roomate the half hour after that. (I don't blame him for being pissed to the nth: he had pocket fives and the board came up like 3-6-7 by the time the turn happened. Guess who kept 4-5? Guess who else?)

Me?

I'm doing very well. Playing the way I want to, and doubling my money off of a flush (a King to another roomie's Jack) sure helps things out. Aaron gets snarky about me raising pre-flop, but people tended to fold and increase my chances of holding a superior hand. I didn't pre-flop raise anything blow-it-out-your-ass ludicrous but enough to make people define "I'm playing this hand because it's good" vs. "I'm playing this hand because it's not costing me shit".

Another roomate busts out and it's down to three-handed. I'm a little more nervous because usually I play against fuller tables. I know I'm not in the lead, so it's another cause for worry. The blinds double, too. (My idea, but they didn't have to say yes!)

This is when it happens.

I get suited muck, but play it 3-handed. a) I've been playing pretty tight even 3-handed because 2) I've been getting a metric shitload of slop I'd never even touch at a fuller table. (I actually ended up getting quad QUEENS on a hand after it played all the way through--because they folded a pre-flop raise. Queen in the flop, and on the river. BAH!) Flop comes with two more clubs, four to the flush. At this point I'm either barely in second or slightly ahead--I wasn't looking at Sean's chipstack probably because it would've depressed me. From the 80 cent big blind I bump up to $3. It's called by G. I'm a little nervous, but then the turn comes Ac. The mother of all flushes. So what do I do?

Bet another $3.

Then put him all-in on the river. And get called.

Aaron said he was waiting around for me to lose? You might want to wait for the Titanic to make the dock, too, son! Two hours (two hours!) after we'd begun, we split up the pot since Sean and I are the sole survivors. He gets $27. I get $43.

Best.

Poker.

Game.

EVER.

Omar and Aaron, who've been sitting around most of the evening watching me take in cash like a bank, aren't as happy as I am when we're gone. It's not even midnight, so I suggest going over the bridge to Mission Beach and I'll buy them some Cold Stone to distribute the wealth of victory. We get there, but no dice--they close at midnight or eleven or some shit. Even with the game breaking up early we were on the road about quarter to midnight. Fingertips away. Aaron calls Merilynn, who's favorite watering hole is in the vicinity, and as I heard a wise woman say in Swingers "you shouldn't leave without getting something for free". Omar, who's been up the last 20 hours less the catnap in the car on the way, comes along with us.

Aaron can't get to Merilynn via cell, so I do what any person of my impressive stature would do at a moment of crisis like this--I close my eyes, clasp my hands together, and make a facial expression like taking a shit to get her outside.

Within 2 minutes.

Omar will back me up.

Just that fast.

Me = 0wns

It turns out (this will not surprise anyone who's heard me talk about Merilynn in the glowing adjectives I have) that she's friends with the bouncers and whatnot so instead of being lumped in with the hoi polloi we get in the VIP line and roll in in about five minutes paying triple 0, Mr. Dufresne, if you please.

Me = 0wns. Merilynn = 0wns th3m a11

So, it being a popular place on Saturday night a bit after midnight, it's wall-to-wall. It's packed with people dancing and somehow my Spidey sense gets me and Omar through the hustle and bustle to where I dimly remembered seeing Merilynn and her cute friend Rica through the window. So I go back for Aaron, who's been in the bathroom, and I knock over a guy's drink.

It could've been a moment.

But me being me and the roll I'm on tonight, I just buy him a new one. Heineken. I'm dimly familiar with that substance.

Omar, tired and dressed down, plays the wall. Aaron...plays the wall. I do a little light dancing and am encouraged to hear both "There It Go" and "Gold Digger". But we're only in an hour before we get Last Called out. WTF? 1:15 is last call in this joint? That'll drop it a letter grade. Cute girls, though. I was trying to hook one up with Aaron, but no dice. Hey, I got my own problems to fry on that front. 99 problems, you know the rest. Made some friends--surprise. Merilynn & Rica had gotten started way before us and ducked out while I was doing the footwork. But I do owe them.

Omar & I swear to chase bitches together in the future. I think it'll be a real team bonding experience. And if Aaron's good, we'll let him get some of our ricochet action.

Since the Giants/Cowboys and Steelers/Bengals games are on early and Clerks is about to do my scene, time to get the seven hours of beauty sleep and...ugh...prepare for work.

See, into every life a little rain must fall...

This post is brought to you BAH: "Walk Of Life" by Dire Straits