Some days you're the windshield, and some days you're the bug...We'll chalk up yesterday as a "bug" day.
Actually, my day didn't begin that badly. After all that writing I did early in the morning (that entry that takes five minutes to read took me almost an hour and a half to write, I'll have you know...), I pretty much slept all day until late into the afternoon, waking up because I'd left the window open to get some fresh air in my room and the jockey riding the leaf blower outside decided to give the bushes outside of my bedroom window some extra-special attention. Well, that, and Dougie called too. So between the drone of the lawn maintenance equipment and the buzzing of my cellphone, I figured it was time to get out of bed.
Anyhow, I had big plans that night to go out to dinner with three of my gals, and as the afternoon wore on, one by one they all dropped out. So instead of pimping around beautiful downtown Henderson with three smokin' hot ladies, I ended up flying solo.
Since I knew I wouldn't be dining at Grimaldi's, as per the original plan, once I got moving for the day, I grilled a hamburger for a late lunch. I also caught up on a few episodes of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations that I'd recorded.
But when it got to be six or sevenish and I still had no plans for the night, I grew a bit restless. I'd set aside about $80 or so to go out with last night, and I didn't want to end up using it on something boring like going to the grocery store, so I had to decide what to do with myself. My first choice was to head over to the Silverton, because on Tuesday nights at 10 pm they host an 'Industry Night' tournament in their poker room. It's open to casino employees only, with just a $40 buy-in. And I keep telling myself that I need to get over there and participate every week, and somehow I've yet to do it.
On the other hand, playing in a poker tourney is usually and all-or-nothing proposition. Only a few people actually cash in, the rest go home broke. Besides, I know I'm a little rusty, having not played any real poker in a couple of months. So I wasn't sure if I wanted to do that.
The alternative that I came up with was to head over to the Fiesta for some $5 Pai Gow. It's become one of Rob's favorite time-wasters, and I know that he's staying over there with his parents this week anyways. I figured I could probably play for a couple of hours, break even, and maybe get a free drink or two out of the deal. And maybe run into Rob and his folks at the same time, too. So instead of heading over to Silverton, I pointed the truck eastward on 215, and just five minutes later, found myself in the parking lot of the Flea-esta, as it's known in casino dealer circles.
I took a quick wander around the pit, and didn't see any familiar faces, but the $5 Pai Gow table, which I absolutely detest at my casino, was sitting there empty. So I grabbed a seat. (I've become that which I despise...) Immediately after I sat down, a miserable old bitty in a walker came shuffling over, sat down, and started to complain nonstop about pretty much everything. I couldn't help but give the dealer a knowing glance.
I feel your pain, brotha.
I should've just realized the bad mojo at the table and abandoned my evening plans right then and there, but no, I was stubborn and had to sit there and take it.
I couldn't get a hand to save my life. I'd get a few pairs here and there, but never had anything good on top to win with. I made a couple of bets for the dealer, and on the second try I got a straight with a King-Ten on top. Of course he turned over a flush with an Ace on top, yoinking my ten bucks away, but paying me two silver coins as a sad consolation prize. At least he won three bucks.
I decided to bank whenever it was my turn, and got lucky a couple of times. But the first time I got a big hand--a full house with Jacks up--the Shufflemaster machine malfunctioned, voiding the hand.
And then came the real kick in the balls. I'd banked three times in a row when it was my turn, and had set my next bet up as $20 on the hand and $3 on the Fortune Bonus. But in a perfect storm of bad timing, the cocktail waitress came up to deliver a drink and while I was futzing with the drink holder and trying to tip her, the dealer just dealt out the next hand, not offering me the chance to bank.
The cards had come out, and it was too late to do anything about it, as Grandma Sunshine had already looked at her cards. I put up a mild protest, but picked up my hand to see that I got another straight with a King-Three on top. No big deal, until I saw the dealer turn over a STRAIGHT FLUSH with an ACE on top!!!
That was supposed to be MY hand.
I was livid. Of course, it beat the hand I was holding, and the dealer just turned white, knowing that he completely screwed the pooch. He knew I wanted to bank that hand, but got lazy, and he also missed out on a big tip, because that hand would've paid me $170. And the old grouch in seat three was pissed at him too because she was playing the envy bonus and lost out on twenty bucks. I'm sure the dude just wanted to crawl into a hole at that point.
After that, I faced the inevitable beat down as I didn't win another hand. Somehow I knew it was gonna go that way, and what was left of my $80 buy-in evaporated before my eyes.
At least the dealer made three bucks off of me. And I was back home less than an hour after I left, feeling like I wasted a perfectly good night off.
Damn.
I was going to drown my sorrows in rum and Coke, but as soon as I opened the fridge, I realized that I was out of Coke, too.
At that point I just gave up, not wanting to leave the house to buy more, afraid of what other kind of bad luck might befall me if I went to the grocery store. So I just went to bed thirsty, keeping one eye on the alarm clock, relieved once it finally turned over to 12:01 am.
I'm sure today will be much better.
Mikey
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