So let's go ahead and lay it out there that the WPT is not exactly beating down my door begging me to play on their TV show, nor are my skills even to the point where I can get drafted into Team GoldenPalace, much less Team Pokerstars. So it was with no illusions of huge profits that I went to Vegas to play donkey blogger poker.
Good f'n thing. While I didn't blow through the entire $900 bankroll I took with me, I did donate $600 to the worldwide poker economy. Fortunately for my mental health, most of my losses went to wonderful people whom I had just met. Then there was this fucker.
Let's start our tale at the IP poker room, where I have finally regained that elusive status - even for the trip. After catching Jacks full on one hand and beating AK with AA the next to felt Steve, and cracking Shelly's AA with 88 and a set on the flop (slowplaying Aces makes the Baby Jesus cry). I saw Drizz racking up about 19,000 grey chips, and he said "Storming the castle!"
I'm totally there! I'm focused, I'm playing well, I can hear the Chariots of Fire running on the beach song playing in the background as we all stride into the poker room at the Excalibur. I avoid the 2-6 spread limit donkey game like the plague, because I'm way too sober to think I can hang with these bloggers at a limit game. So I settle into my nice warm seat at the 1-3 NL table across the room. It's a scene right out of a nativity at the NL table. The stars are out, the cattle are lowing, and the donkeys are braying. Boy, are the donkeys braying. It only takes about 45 minutes for the hee-haws to suck out on F-Train for two buy-ins, so he takes a walk to cool down, leaving me the sole blogger at the table.
Not to last, as the scent of donkey attracts bloggers like the aroma of four-day old hippie funk draws narcs. Shortly we were joined by Drizz, the lovely April, the almost as lovely Joe Speaker, and my nemesis of the evening. I think between April, Jeff and Speaker, there had probably been about 14 bags packed for the blogger trip, and I would lay 2-1 that DonkeyPuncher and Joe had April dominated in the quantity of hair product race by at least a 3-1 margin. April is a beautiful woman, but those boys take their beauty regimen really seriously :).
So I've been donking off chips all night, only being profitable on wheel spin prop bets (never take yellow), when THE HAND happens. I've got about $75-90 in front of me (told you I've been donking all night), I look down at AQ off. Raise to $15, Donkeypuncher calls. Flop comes Q 6 6. TPTK. two pair out there. The only thing I could possibly believe that he would call an all-in with would be pocket 6s, KK or AA, since there's nothing else with a 6 that he would have called my preflop raise with. DP goes into the tank.
Thinking. Pleae call with AJ
Thinking. Please call with AK
Thinking. Please call, I gotta pee.
"Man, this is like the worst call I've made all weekend. "
DP flips up JJ and my heart soars. The heavens opens up and beam of light shines down on my AQ laying face up on the table. Chorus of angels sing the Hallelujah chorus. I feel the tide of my evening begin to turn around.
Jack on the turn. Fuck. I still have outs. Invoke the power of CJ. Be the luckbox. Be the luckbox.
I don't even have time to register the river card through my shock while I hear, over the din of the poker room, belted out from the seat right next to me, for all the world to hear, as my entire body sags, and I sit, head in hands,
"Dem's Quads, Beetches!"
I ship chips, but I get the story. And it's the story that matters, right? I couldn't even be mad at the poker gods, because now I realize that it's my lot in life to have someone catch runner runner quads on me at every blogger gathering from now til the end of my days. At least I know that my money went to a good place, since Puncher and his crew left about 45 minutes later to go to the strip clubs.
This lap dance brought to you by Falstaff. :)