Saturday, March 6, 2010
Can't Read My Poker Face
Recently I had the pleasure of my first adult trip to Atlantic City. I was there one other time when I was too young (by too young, I mean that I was 18) to actually touch anything. We walked through the casino and I was forbidden from leaving the carpeted path, keeping me far, far away from the shiny slots.
This time I was allowed to not only walk up to a machine, but touch it, sit down in front of it, put money into it, and even have a beverage while watching "I Dream of Jeanie" suck away my entire paycheck.
Allow me to rewind for a moment...
I'm not really a gambler and I never would have gone to Atlantic City had I not run into a few old high school friends the night before. We found ourselves talking about the job market and how we all have Bachelor degrees and no real job to speak of (at least I'm not the only one). My friend Randy told me that he makes most of his money in AC playing poker. You see, Randy has been playing poker since middle school and I guess he's gotten quite good at it. I mentioned that I've never been to AC and Randy insisted that I join them the next morning. It felt like a challenge and I decided that I couldn't refuse.
Back to AC...
The Borgata was big, beautiful, and shiny...but it didn't like me as much as I liked it. That's right...the Borgata took almost all of my money. What does one do at the Borgata when she has no money left to gamble? At first I found myself thinking, "That's okay. I'll just go outside for a walk and make some new friends. The boardwalk is a fun place." Not so much...mostly because the Borgata is one of the few casinos in AC that are nowhere near the boardwalk. So there I was alone in the middle of the slot machines while Randy & Company were off playing poker. So I did laps around the Borgata and called some friends on the phone to tell them about my foolish gambling decisions.
As I was left to contemplate what happened and where the day went wrong I got a text from Randy. He told me to come join him in the poker room (I think he felt bad for leading me to my financial demise). I find the poker room and (having no money) just sat behind Randy. As we're chatting he whispers into my ear....
Randy: Dude...that guy across the table looks like Nugget.
Ice Queen: Who the hell is Nugget?
Randy: We went to high school with him. Look at the guy...doesn't he look familiar?
He didn't look familiar...but he did look angry. Apparently he was down about $800.
Ice Queen: I guess...
Randy: Take a picture of him.
Ice Queen: What? You want me to ask him for a picture?
Randy: No! You'll have to sneak one with your phone. He's a miserable bastard so he can't know you're doing it.
I know what you're thinking..."Ice Queen, this sounds like a terrible idea and there's no way this could end well for you." I would agree with you. Is it even legal to take a picture during a poker game? I feel like people would think you're cheating somehow and I would be hauled out of the Borgata in cuffs if I got caught.
On the other hand, it felt like a challenge...
Wait, isn't that how I got myself into this mess to begin with? Yes...that's right. Perhaps I should just quit while I'm behind and take it easy with these challenges I felt I was being faced with.
But then again I find it hard to resist a challenge.
PS...I looked up Nugget from high school on Facebook. He totally looked like him.