In badugi. In one hand only. But it makes for a good title, right?
So I'm sitting in the remaining $1/2 NL game at the IP. It's about 2AM on a Monday morning, and I'm thinking that I either need to go on a heater and get my fat ass unstuck for the trip, or go to bed in about an orbit. Bed's looking better, since there isn't enough money on the table to get me unstuck if I took every.single.chip. Not to mention that I just shipped a stack of reds to -EV chasing my flush draw that didn't get there, so I'm pretty much even for the night (read stuck $800 for the trip).
Then I hear this chick come in the room and start talking about getting a mixed game going, and saying something to this guy about "champion" and "bracelet." So I look around, don't see Bobby, figure it can't be anything important, and go back to my game. Then she yells out "mixed game starting up!"
"What games?" I query. I am getting a little bored with this NL table. After playing the rollercoaster that was the Speaker/Spaceman/Daddy/NGLF table, anything is dull.
"Badugi, Triple Draw and Omaha."
"I don't know how to play those." And turn back to my chips.
"C'mon, you gotta learn sometime. It's 2/4 limit, it's cheap." Those are good points. WTF, I suck at triple draw and Omaha, but I do want to learn badugi.
"How many players you got?"
"Get 6 and I'm in." Thinking to myself this way I don't look like a chickenshit, cause there's no way she's finding anybody else to play this crazy shit in here of all places at this hour.
About 90 seconds later, she yells out "We got 6, get over here." So I rack up, and while I'm at the cage, the floor guy says to me "Do you know who that is?"
"Who, the redheaded chick? No clue."
"No, the guy with her." I look over, and there are three guys with her.
"Still no clue."
"Dude, that's Dutch Boyd."
"Ok, cool." So I figure I'll sit down, play a few hands with Dutch and his buddies, and go to bed with at least a decent story for the blog. So I sit down at the end of the table and Melissa (the redhead) proceeds to tell me the basics of Badugi. One guy at my end of the table hasn't got any chips yet, and the other guy (Casey) folds. I have 6432 of three different suits, which is pretty good, almost very good. I show my cards to my end of the table, looking for advice, and they tell me to stand pat, that I probably have a winner. I believe them, because I have no real clue what I'm doing.Melissa folds, the guy at the other end of the table raises, and I call. In between this action there is a very nice woman who had even less of a clue than I did about the game and no idea how to set her hand. She finally folded. I called, and stood pat.
The hand went on for a bit (there are three drawing rounds in Badugi), and when we got to showdown, the guy at the other end of the table showed A832 of three suits, for an 8-high three card Badgui. I had a 4-high three card Badugi, and scooped the pot. That's about the point at which I realized that I wasn't sitting at the end of the table with Dutch, but had just won a hand off of Dutch.
That whole never watching poker on TV kinda keeps me in the dark about who's who in the poker world, so I really didn't know which one of the three guys at my table was in fact Dutch Boyd.
So we went on in the rotation, me bleeding chips like I always do in mixed games, until at some point I accidentally outed myself as a blogger. I'm sitting there playing and Change100 walks up behind me. She tells me that Pauly is on mega-tilt playing Pai Gow, and I respond with "C'mon, only Otis goes on Pai Gow tilt."
At the mention of Otis,Casey looks at me and says "are you a poker blogger?"
I give him my best "fuck. busted" face, and say, "yeah,there's a bunch of us here this weekend. You read blogs?" fucking rock star Otis.
So a little while later, out of the blue, Dutch hits me with the quote of the weekend.
"Can I ask you a serious question?"
"Do I owe you money?"
I search as best I can for an appropriate smartass response, but then I look at him. He's so fucking sincere, and so fucking concerned that I hate him for owing me money that I just can't fuck with him. BTW, if that puppy-dog eyes shit works on me, that guy must get more trim than a lesbian bikini wax artist.
"Nah, dude. I didn't even play online back then."
"Cause I'll pay you if I do."
"Nah dude, you don't owe me any money." I gotta say, the fucker might have made some bad decisions with his business, and I was never a fan of The Crew and their antics, but he's a fucking poker savant, and actually came off that night as a really nice guy. No ego, no attitude, just a guy out hanging with his friends having a good time. I'd play with him again in a heartbeat.
A little while later Soxlover comes down, having been roused from sleep by a phone call from F-Train saying "Falstaff's playing mixed games with Dutch Boyd and there's a seat open." So Sox comes in for a bit and gets the secondary quote of the night.
On the river in O8, Dutch catches whatever he's been after, looks at Sox and says "I really advise you to fold here."
"I don't think I should."
"Here." And he slides his cards over to Sox for him to take a look.
"No, I still think I shouldn't fold."
Nobody expects the Spanish Fucking Inquisition, otherwise known as flopping quads. Sox's flopped quad 5s were good for the high had, well outranking Dutch's boat. Later on a trek was made to Seamless, a strip bar somewhere else, and I decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and I should go up to the wife and sleep for a few hours before we fly home. Go over to I Had Outs to read about Karol's exploits with Dutch at the strip club.