IslandHopper
05-11-2011, 04:08 AM
Since I started dealing poker at my formerly favorite place to play poker, I've had to find a new place to play. (Not against the rules at work to play off-shift, but just kinda weird now.)
A couple nights a week after getting off work, I've been heading to a bigger casino/poker room about 45 minutes away from the place I deal at. (Tulalip for the couple of guys from WA state.) I've been playing strictly 1/3 NL with a $200 max buy-in.
Tonight, I bought in for the $200 and ran it up to $350+ over the next 2 hours. Nothing fancy, no huge hands, just ABC poker. As I'm playing, I keep hearing bitching/moaning/generally annoying crap coming from a guy at the table directly behind me. He's berating players on their calls/folds/raises, butting in on other peoples' conversations, etc. Standard douchebaggery.
I don't care because he's not at my table. But I am aware.
I get moved when the the table breaks and take the only currently open 1/3 seat. This seat happens to be at Captain Douchebag's table, directly to Captain Douchebag's left. Whatever. I'm prepared to maintain a steady strain. I am a rock. I am an island. I'ma Simon & Garfunkel this bitch.
Even before I get my chips out of the rack and onto the felt, he's complaining to the dealer that I've got more than the max buy-in. The dealer shoots me an apologetic look while explaining that I've moved from another 1/3 game and am not a new player, and it's therefore allowed. Capt. Douchebag insists on the floor being called over, who backs up the dealer's explanation and adds that Capt. Douchebag has nearly $400 himself and would be allowed to keep all of it in play if he were forced to move to another table. I have not said word one since taking my seat, but grin at this. Capt. Douchebag looks at me and says, "I guess it doesn't matter anyway. He won't keep them for long."
I am no longer a rock. I resolve to out-douchebag Captain Douchebag. I execute Phase 1 of this plan by straddling his big blind on my very first hand. In 9+ years of regular poker play I have never straddled. Not once. This is a large step for me, but Capt. Douchebag is already muttering, fingering chips and glaring daggers at the side of my head. Phase 1 complete.
The woman to my immediate left limps for six and it then folds around to Captain Douchebag, who peeks quickly at his cards and raises to $18. I'm already satisfied with the return on my $6 investment and am prepared to muck in preparation for Phase 2, which is to comment hilariously on the hand about to unfold. At which point I look down at two beautiful black aces staring up at me.
"Hark," I say unto myself "doth I hear the singing of angels? Hath the heavens rent asunder and bestowed upon me this sword of righteousness with which to smote yonder douchebag?"
I cut a quick glance left and see Limper Lady all set to fold. Phase 2: Hilarious Commenting From Outside the Hand is quickly retasked into Phase 2: Straddle-Stacking Captain Douchebag With Ninja-Like Sneakiness. I smooth call and begin to snicker quietly to myself as Limper Lady folds.
The flop comes down 8-8-10 rainbow, and Capt. D-bag quickly bets $50. I am now struggling to avoid outright laughter. I am confident that I have way the best, knowing Captain Douchebag would check an 8 in this spot to impress the table with his poker prowess. Ditto tens full. I "attempt" a raise to $75. The dealer shoots me a weird look while Captain Douchebag launches into a lecture on how that's not a legal raise. She knows what I do for a living and is understandably confused. As Capt. Douchebag turns to the dealer for confirmation of his explanation, a quick wink on my part earns me a knowing smile from her. An alliance has been formed.
I apologize profusely and attempt to recover my $25 "raise". Capt. Douchebag, already on the verge of a myocardial infarction, pounds the table and demands that I be forced to make the full raise. Oddly enough my $25 was exactly the half-raise needed to make the full-raise a requirement. The dealer explains this to me. I ask if I'm allowed to fold. She explains that the raise is mandatory. I believe she is struggling to avoid outright laughter at this point as well, and I quickly complete the raise before we crack each other up and fuck up Phase 2.
Capt. Douchebag snap-shoves for his remaining $330ish. I snap-call with my remaining $230ish. I turn over my aces as he turns over his pocket jacks. For bonus points, I comment that I am impressed that he actually had a hand at all. Now obviously biting her lower lip in an attempt to stave off gales of laughter, the dealer brings the turn card. It's another 8. Can this be? With five minutes left to go before the $200 hourly high hand pays out, have I just doubled-up through Capt. Douchebag and qualified for said high hand in one fell swoop? Have I just locked up nearly $550 on pocket aces?
The answer is a soul-crushing no, because the river is a GODDAM JACK. I nod and give a "what-are-you-gonna-do" shrug in response to the dealer's look of sorrowful dejection. These things, they happen.
I am three steps toward the door when I hear Capt. Douchebag announce to the table. "I knew he had aces." At which point I felt something snap in my head. I am currently having trouble focusing with my left eye and swear to Christ that there's toast burning somewhere.
A couple nights a week after getting off work, I've been heading to a bigger casino/poker room about 45 minutes away from the place I deal at. (Tulalip for the couple of guys from WA state.) I've been playing strictly 1/3 NL with a $200 max buy-in.
Tonight, I bought in for the $200 and ran it up to $350+ over the next 2 hours. Nothing fancy, no huge hands, just ABC poker. As I'm playing, I keep hearing bitching/moaning/generally annoying crap coming from a guy at the table directly behind me. He's berating players on their calls/folds/raises, butting in on other peoples' conversations, etc. Standard douchebaggery.
I don't care because he's not at my table. But I am aware.
I get moved when the the table breaks and take the only currently open 1/3 seat. This seat happens to be at Captain Douchebag's table, directly to Captain Douchebag's left. Whatever. I'm prepared to maintain a steady strain. I am a rock. I am an island. I'ma Simon & Garfunkel this bitch.
Even before I get my chips out of the rack and onto the felt, he's complaining to the dealer that I've got more than the max buy-in. The dealer shoots me an apologetic look while explaining that I've moved from another 1/3 game and am not a new player, and it's therefore allowed. Capt. Douchebag insists on the floor being called over, who backs up the dealer's explanation and adds that Capt. Douchebag has nearly $400 himself and would be allowed to keep all of it in play if he were forced to move to another table. I have not said word one since taking my seat, but grin at this. Capt. Douchebag looks at me and says, "I guess it doesn't matter anyway. He won't keep them for long."
I am no longer a rock. I resolve to out-douchebag Captain Douchebag. I execute Phase 1 of this plan by straddling his big blind on my very first hand. In 9+ years of regular poker play I have never straddled. Not once. This is a large step for me, but Capt. Douchebag is already muttering, fingering chips and glaring daggers at the side of my head. Phase 1 complete.
The woman to my immediate left limps for six and it then folds around to Captain Douchebag, who peeks quickly at his cards and raises to $18. I'm already satisfied with the return on my $6 investment and am prepared to muck in preparation for Phase 2, which is to comment hilariously on the hand about to unfold. At which point I look down at two beautiful black aces staring up at me.
"Hark," I say unto myself "doth I hear the singing of angels? Hath the heavens rent asunder and bestowed upon me this sword of righteousness with which to smote yonder douchebag?"
I cut a quick glance left and see Limper Lady all set to fold. Phase 2: Hilarious Commenting From Outside the Hand is quickly retasked into Phase 2: Straddle-Stacking Captain Douchebag With Ninja-Like Sneakiness. I smooth call and begin to snicker quietly to myself as Limper Lady folds.
The flop comes down 8-8-10 rainbow, and Capt. D-bag quickly bets $50. I am now struggling to avoid outright laughter. I am confident that I have way the best, knowing Captain Douchebag would check an 8 in this spot to impress the table with his poker prowess. Ditto tens full. I "attempt" a raise to $75. The dealer shoots me a weird look while Captain Douchebag launches into a lecture on how that's not a legal raise. She knows what I do for a living and is understandably confused. As Capt. Douchebag turns to the dealer for confirmation of his explanation, a quick wink on my part earns me a knowing smile from her. An alliance has been formed.
I apologize profusely and attempt to recover my $25 "raise". Capt. Douchebag, already on the verge of a myocardial infarction, pounds the table and demands that I be forced to make the full raise. Oddly enough my $25 was exactly the half-raise needed to make the full-raise a requirement. The dealer explains this to me. I ask if I'm allowed to fold. She explains that the raise is mandatory. I believe she is struggling to avoid outright laughter at this point as well, and I quickly complete the raise before we crack each other up and fuck up Phase 2.
Capt. Douchebag snap-shoves for his remaining $330ish. I snap-call with my remaining $230ish. I turn over my aces as he turns over his pocket jacks. For bonus points, I comment that I am impressed that he actually had a hand at all. Now obviously biting her lower lip in an attempt to stave off gales of laughter, the dealer brings the turn card. It's another 8. Can this be? With five minutes left to go before the $200 hourly high hand pays out, have I just doubled-up through Capt. Douchebag and qualified for said high hand in one fell swoop? Have I just locked up nearly $550 on pocket aces?
The answer is a soul-crushing no, because the river is a GODDAM JACK. I nod and give a "what-are-you-gonna-do" shrug in response to the dealer's look of sorrowful dejection. These things, they happen.
I am three steps toward the door when I hear Capt. Douchebag announce to the table. "I knew he had aces." At which point I felt something snap in my head. I am currently having trouble focusing with my left eye and swear to Christ that there's toast burning somewhere.