Stranger in the Casino

I was scanning the bookshelf and saw in the corner an unused, unread book that I hang on to called "Winning Texas Hold Em"

This book brings me back good memories.

A few years ago, I briefly dated a graffiti kid named Robot for one week. He tried to swindle me of some hard-earned cash because I broke up with him.

Following the break-up someone came into the apartment while I was asleep and stole $1000 from me,

which was to be my deposit for my new apartment in Brooklyn.

I felt utterly crushed. Completely friendless and luckless in a new city.

So my would-be rescuer from loneliness and despair came in the form of a professional Texas-Hold-Em Poker player. Well, I say "professional" because that was how he earned his living (but I don't know if he really was any good).

I had hesitations to play poker because I'm the good girl type.

But he came down from Boston stayed in my apartment (sleeping in the couch, in the living room) for several days at a time. He spent quite a considerable time teaching me how to play Poker.

I kept insisting I prefer chess, recalling the need to avoid the gambling streak in my family that often leads to penury.

But he brought me several presents of art books and my first taste of home-baked lemon pie which

I thought was really sweet. So I felt obligated to be attentive to the poker lesson.

I had a sneaking suspicion all this effort was to convince me to be the Poker player adventuring partner/girlfriend. But I'm kind of slow in switching boyfriends, preferring to obsess about old ones until I get my fill of the emo/sad/sappy phase. Not that I spent any time obsessing about Robot! No! He wasn't worth it! But I had other heart matters to sort out.

One Friday night, while the poker player beau was visiting, we found $100 bill by the subway.

He says, that's our lucky sign. We have to test my new poker playing skills!

I thought about the long lonely weekend ahead in a new city, if I told this guy to go on without me.

So I made the decision to jump onto his car and off we went to the nearby glittering convergence of casinos in Atlantic City.

In the Borgata, we picked out the $2 table so I can learn the hang of the game slowly.

He kept looking over my shoulder, telling me this and that and this and that.

Which was really sweet but kindof annoying.

I steadily, steadily lost money.

He put up another hundred for ante. And I kept losing.

At around four in the morning, I wished that he would just leave me alone.

I'm sure on his part he probably was thinking he was with the village idiot.

In frustration, he got up for an extended break to go to the bathroom.

Alright I thought, it's time to regain some sense of coolness.

I scanned the table saw some hardcore players guaging my style and I couldn't help but feel defenseless.

One guy after I folded three times in row, labeled me as the mark and tried to push me out of the table with some insults.

Sneering he said, "What are you, some kind of a church girl?"

I felt a little embarassed, because, little did he know, Yep, I was some kind of homegrown church girl.

But knowing this, the insult just didn't stick. So on the game went.

I felt like that dorky kid who kept trying to hang out with xtreme bikers but still has training wheels on.

Finally, down to my last $20, some Korean guy sits beside me at the deserted chair. He told me he just lost $30k and he was down to his last couple of hundred. He looked manic happy. REALLY MANIC HAPPY. He kept trying to bet it all, but the table had a limit--it was a $2 dollar table.

Frustrated the manic guy smiled, got up and threw all his chips my way. He says in a thick Korean accent, "you now win ok?"

My jaw dropped.

Ok. It was my lucky night.

I now win, ok.

I began raising my bet and actually used my ability to read people that I learned from bartending. Pretty simple to spot those who were faking a good hand.

In my last round, I had king quad.

Don't ask me how it happened, but it happened.

Tried to bet all--but it was a limit table.

When my friend returned, I called it a night.

It was time to go for a refreshing walk at the boardwalk at 5 am and see the sunrise.

He looked stunned.

I had regained all the money he lost, plus more.

Eh, not bad for a church girl ?/village idiot/girl on training wheels, huh? :)

It was a beautiful sunrise and aside from the cracked-up hoes on the boardwalk, it was just lovely.

We spent the day getting lost returning in the maze that is NYC highway.

Despite my winnings, I still had no desire to become a poker vagabond.

So my friend stopped visiting me and told me he was breaking up with me,

even though, we never really dated. Not even kissed. Or held hands.

Well, I still think about the lucky times when I look at my art books and Winning texas hold-em and send him winning wishes, love and fun, whereever poker playing adventure took him.

stories from Rubbishriot

transcribed and written by JBoncales