So, last weekend I had a bit of fun. After work on Friday, I drove down to the Riverwind (a casino just south of OK City) to play a little poker. Unfortunately, what is usually a 2:15 drive or so took almost four hours, thanks to Labor Day traffic, an accident, and construction in Oklahoma City. The first 140 miles took two hours, the final 15 miles took almost two more. I'd hoped to be at a table by 6:30; instead it was closer to 8:00.
When I did sit down at the table, I arrived in the middle of a hand as a player on my right called off all his chips with AJ on a 4KQ8 board on the turn, offered around 2:1 odds on his 12:1 gutshot. He missed and lost his chips to AK, launching right into a cursing fit: "Fuck! I never hit a fucking draw, ever!" and got up and left. "Why do they always leave right when I get here?" I asked the table. They laughed.
There was a stone cold maniac at the table, though, as it turned out, two seats to my left, an older-middle-aged gentleman that was obviously playing for the rush and to him, I lost some chips early when I failed to catch a nut flush draw with overs I felt were likely good as well. I then played a hand against another player, where I raised with AT suited from late-mid position. The caller, seated between us, was conservative, tight-passive. The flop came A77 with a diamond draw (I had spades), and out of position, I bet out. Both players called. Shit.
But then the turn came, a black ten, giving me top two pair against the underpaired board. I checked. Mr. T-pass on my left bet out, making me think, AJ or AQ, I was ahead. Maniac called, as I'd hoped, and I pounced, raising $75, close to a pot-sized raise. Both players called again. whafuck? Was maniac slow-playing a 7? The player between us wasn't, I was sure. I was relatively certain one of them - probably the maniac - was on a flush draw. He was a maniac in most ways, but was not prone simply to call bets with big hands, or call very big bets with nothing. Calling big bets meant draws, and the diamond draw was the only real draw on the board. He had to have diamonds.
So, when the river came with a small diamond, I checked, as did T-pass, and I folded to the maniac's all in. The T-pass between us called, and maniac showed that he had K4 of diamonds. I bristled a bit, but calling with those sorts of hands was just what this guy did pre-flop, and I felt I'd played the hand well. I'd wanted a flush draw to call on that turn, and I was able to get away from a strong hand even against a maniac. L-pass never showed but I assumed he had a big Ace.
Dropped down to about $80, I bought back for another $100 and continued on. I missed a straight draw and dropped back down to $110 or so, when I caught KK in middle position. I raised it up and got one call, from the button (the maniac folded for once), a cocky, overly aggressive young kid. The flop came J high with a spade draw, I bet 15 (3/4 of the pot), and the kid raised it all the way up to $60. I only had about $35 to raise him with, and shoved. The kid sighed. "I know what you have, but I'm going to have to get lucky", he said, and called. "AA, KK, or QQ?", he asked. I showed the KK. He had JT offsuit, and missed. Silly over-raise on the flop cost him (the all-in call was correct with 5 live outs). That doubled me back up to 240 or so, and back in the game.
From there, my cards were tiresome, just punishingly boring. I squeezed a pot here and there when I could, and crawled my pot back and up to even. The maniac two to my left eventually left, and I realized with a bit of horror that it was about 11:00. I'd been up since 6 in the morning for work, and was getting a little tired. At the same time, the table was juicy and passive, several calling stations. A player that seemed to know what he was doing, on my right, suddenly went on serious tilt after being busted by someone that hit a weak draw. He bought back in for $100 and immediately threw the $100 bill in pre-flop, before he had received chips. A player on my left, a new, young kid of some light hispanic descent, called with AJ, which held up against Tilty McTilt's A5. Tilty McTilt left in disgust, swearing his head off.
I built my stack back up to even after a long, struggling sequence of non-showdown hands, finally back to even at about 1:00 am. I'd decided by then that there was no way I was driving back that night. Either an all-nighter at the table, or a late-night hotel.
Over the next couple of hours, the kid on my left went on an insane rush and built his stack up to well over 1000. Every draw seemed to be hitting, and I noticed that he was getting away with a few serious bluffs as well, taking advantage of the other players' superstition, as if a run of 4 lucky hands meant the 5th was more likely for him.
Any time I worry that I won't be a profitable poker player, I remind myself that I'm an atheist; that the fact that the vast majority of people on the earth are conditioned from an early age to believe in an invisible man in the sky makes them far more receptive to other absurdities; the notion of a hot streak of luck being predictive chief among them.
In any case, as 3:00 or so came around, the table thinned out, and only good players were left. We were four-handed for a while, including one player that had been playing at a 2-5 table for most of the night and had done well there, a small asian woman who was t-agg-vanilla, myself, and the weak link, a guy about my age with a ridiculous beard that I took to thinking of as "Leonidas" in my head.
I was deep inside Leonidas's head, all night. I pushed him off a pot early, out of position with the 89 of spades. The flop came xTJ with two spades, I checked, a player to my left bet, three people called, including Leonidas, I raised nice and big. Only Leonidas called. The turn bricked, but I could tell that Leonidas was in no real mood to call a big bet. I bet pot, almost half my stack, and he folded in disgust. I showed the semi-bluff and he only fumed farther, not saying what he had. Later, I called down three bets with J9 on a 4JA board. Looked like he was bluffing, and he was, with a KQ that missed. Four-handed I raised with Q7 from the button and called three increasing bets on a flop of QQ4 flop. He had absolutely nothing, but I worried about a better queen and saw absolutely no profit in raising. wAwB situation, though the others seemed a bit perplexed that I failed to raise, at the very least on the river. I shrugged, and I moved to the next hand, not letting on that I simply didn't see the profit in it; barring a worse queen, I only get called down by a better hand, and there were more better hands than worse queens.
Late, a black guy joined the table who was a decent enough player, but distracted - talking with a friend who was at a 3-6 limit table, and the two of them were chatting it up with a friendly, decidedly unattractive woman who was wearing a thin yellow shirt and no bra. It took me a while to realize that she was a prostitute. I didn't catch who it was she left with, but she seemed the sort determined not to leave alone.
At about five in the morning, an older black gentleman sat down at the table, not much of a player as it turned out, but the source of the most amusing anecdote of the night. A bit after he sat down, a player noted that something smelled like smoke. The 2-5 regular noted that they probably just smelled his hot chocolate. The other guy said, no, I smell that, and it smells like something else is on fire.
Eventually the older black guy stood up with a start and brushed down to the hem of his shirt, where a quarter-sized hole was smoldering! The table gave a collective "Holy shit!" as the man grabbed some water and doused the burning hole in his shirt with it. Nobody could really tell how the fire had started, though I figured it was wayward cigarette ash on a very thin, dry, old shirt.
After that, we referred to the older guy as "Denzel", referring to "Man on Fire". He wasn't around for long, though, quickly dumping his $100, mostly over to Leonidas.
I was very tired at that point. At six in the morning, I finally got up and left, the test of my constitution successful, and yet only beginning. I wanted to see how I'd do in an extended session, and felt I'd played well, not leaving too much money on the table, not tilting when I could have, not missing much even as my head and eyes were drooping. I cashed out for $440, exactly $140 in profit for a 10 hour session. Not the greatest hourly rate, but I also felt I ran worse than average, and played well, which is what counts.
The drive back up was a bit perilous, sleepy as I was, but I took my time, four hours worth, stopping at rest areas actually to rest. I arrived back up and worked to unpack and rest over the three day weekend.
