The game cranked up about the usual time.
In fact, as I sauntered in, people were just sitting down and the dealer was selling chips.
Perfect timing.
Sat down in a familiar spot, said hello to a few familiar people and took note of few new faces.
An hour later, three people had tapped out, collectively running through several racks of chips.
And I was still standing, relatively even for the day. Which was a victory in itself.
Won a decent pot when, holding pocket kings, a third king landed on the turn.
A woman then sat down next to me and promptly ordered food service from the grille next door
While she was doing that, managed to win a few smaller pots and nudged up the chip stack.
Then watched as a giant pot unfolded. With the board J-10-7-6-9 of mixed suits, a raising war broke out among three players. When it was over K-Q had edged out Q-8 and even J-8 had called the last raise.
It was a giant pot and I congratulated the woman in the No. 10 seat who had taken it down.
The woman’s food service then arrived from the grille but she had apparently lost her appetite.
“Anyone want some chicken strips?” she asked. There were no takers.
An old-timer joined the game and people started swapping stories.
“The last time I was broke, it was 1959 and I was in Reno,” he says.
The dealer drops the rake and pushes a small pot to the winner.
“Found a penny ante poker game,” the story teller continues.
“And you won a hundred dollars? In a penny ante game?” someone asks.
A new dealer sits down as the smell of chicken strips wafts across the table.
“No,” the story teller continues. “I won $9 dollars.”
And he pauses. “But I bought a keno ticket in downtown Reno with my $9 and won $2,200.
“And I never looked back.”
In the meantime, I pick up As-Js, one of the better hands I’ve seen in a while, and toss in a raise. We see the flop four-handed and it comes with small cards including two spades.
A third spade obligingly falls on the turn and there’s another flurry of betting, but the board pairs the deuce on the river.
Decide to bet the nut spade flush — but obviously not the nuts — on the river and get a grudging call. The flush holds up, and I get to stack a decent pot.
Some new players sit down again, and the story teller is running low on chips. I presume even if he taps out, he won’t go broke for the first time since 1959.
Glance at my watch. It’s been almost four hours, a good time to call it quits.
I rack up about 18 big bets in profit, tip the familiar cashier a few bucks and get ready to leave.
Then I walk back to the woman with the chicken strips.
“Pardon me,” I say. “Are you really not interested in the chicken strips?”
“No,” she says. “And I haven’t even touched them. Also, there’s half of a Cuban sandwich, too.”
Claimed the chicken strips and the neglected Cuban sandwich. With a beer, they made a great lunch.
