The Best Hand I Ever Played

Last night was the culmination of the mirage 3/6 experience, and it was the best poker I’ve played since I’ve been in town. Shit was fucking dominant dude. When I asked the desk for a 3/6 seat, I was elated to see the table that was chosen before I even sat down. There were 4 young, attractive girls, three college boys on vacation, one old man, one overweight woman, and myself. There was an immense amount of table chatter, and I knew right away that I was best off posting rather than waiting the four hands for my blind. I posted and was subsequently raised as a cavalcade of callers came in. Shit folded down, and proceeded to fold with a far higher percentage than my regular rate, watching as everyone wildly raised.

In particular one collegiate hopeful who was originally referred to as what I heard as “the beast” by his friends, but later realized was actually the far more pussified moniker “bees”. Bees was apparently a veteran of the 20/40 game and was just slumming it to hang out with his buddies and hit on some chicks. He therefore didn’t give a shit about his stack and was raising blind more often than folding. As he won pot after pot, he would tell people “we’re all friends here, take a rebate” then give them half the pot he had rightfully won. Originally, the dealer would not allow it, but the table contested and everyone agreed that we would allow rebates from bees. He gave back half a pot at least 10 times, prolly ridding himself of well over a hundred dollars. At one point he looked up bewildered and said, “Shit, I’m stuck, I just can’t beat this fucking game”.

Eventually the fat lady to bees’ right got fed up with his antics, and left the table saying something like “I put up with enough of this stuff at home, I come here to get away from it.” We all got a good laugh at her expense, as the girls fawned “Sue didn’t like you much did she bees?” hoping that he would continue his rebate program. Everybody started talking back and forth and one of bees buddies asked me and the old man to my left, “You guys come here together too?” I quickly answered, “Yeah, he’s my uncle.” The old man concurred and we went on with the game as normal. Each and every dealer had a problem with bees’ language and eventually our table was warned by the floor man and rebates were banned. I started going after bees whenever he raised blind, no matter what I had. Shit was staying close to even.

After about another hour of banter in which people were calling each others hands, and even calling out their own hands. I warned people when I had hit two pair or a monster flush and saved them a bet or two in order to keep the camaraderie of the affair. As we were talking about our locational history, I admitted that the man who had left was not in fact my uncle and that I was a Las Vegas resident. After talking about college, we realized that there were 3 duke alums at the table including myself and bees and we started playing the name game. In general I fucking hate the name game, but it does allow opportunities to lie and claim to know people you never met thereby creating elaborate stories involving mutual friends that never occurred. Bees had been a couple years below me, but he was in Kappa Alpha fraternity and when I brought up the name of my freshman hall mate we found common ground. For anonymities sake we’ll call the scumbag in question Carlos Venezuela because he was whiter than the whitest of the Bradley clan but had the most Latin sounding name ever. Dude was a degenerate gambler, and was only brought up because I hoped bees had his contact info and I could track down the hundred bucks he’s owed me for about four years now. Instead, the pluralized second letter of the alphabet basically spit on the floor in defiance at the mention of Carlos, saying “that fucking guy owes me five hundred dollars.”

Bees further realized that he had read my blog entries about ellix powers, and was shocked at all these random connections coming to light. Meanwhile, the girls were all staying pretty even partially because we were letting them off easy and partially because they were playing tight poker. Everyone was a little drunk and we were all talking about going out to pure. The original old man had been replaced by a dead ringer for Robert Patrick, so I got the entire table to call him terminator two. Shits would drop a flush on his head and exclaim “Judgment Day”. One time, while he was trying to make a decision, I stared him down and said “Have you seen this boy?” I was probably up twenty bucks while bees was down a bunch, the girls had all given away some chips but been kept afloat by bees except for this one chick Kat who was actually a good player. Whenever she hit the flop, she would meow to let us know she had a big hand. She was playing pretty good poker and obviously took it seriously.

I was like third to act, and bees put in a live straddle. I looked down at queen ten off suit and reraised his straddle to nine. A very tight buddy of bees to my left raised it to twelve and Cat capped it with five callers total for fifteen bucks each. When I went to call, I said “I’m gonna need to see some sixes dealer, six six six, sign of the devil.” Flop came out deuce of clubs, six of clubs, queen of clubs. I said as I raised, “If you’ve got trip sixes beat, raise me.” Call, fold, raise from Cat, fold to me. I was positive that she had my pair of queens beat, but I reraised her anyway, the original caller to my left folding with what he later revealed was pocket aces, then Cat made it 12. I called, saying “I guess I need the board to pair”. Turn comes six of diamonds. She’s visibly pissed as I bet out and say, “Honestly I have four sixes. If you have four sixes beat I would call it down, otherwise lay it down. Honestly, I wouldn’t lie about this, I have four sixes, Ill show if you fold. Honestly, you should fold, we’re all friends here.” After long consideration she said “I fold” and flipped up ace king of clubs. I threw over my queen ten off suit no club and she was furious.

“That not cool, no really, that’s totally not cool.” I told the dealer to give her the pot, knowing shits had been disallowed by the floor, and acted concerned as she got up to cash out, still saying “that’s fucking bullshit.” I decided I would be happy either way, having made a dominant play for a big pot, my ethics are usually for sale for far less, but if she would have taken the money back I would have given it. As she stormed off, her friends told me not to worry about it, she just got real competitive about poker. I had taken about a hundo on the pot, so after due apologies I folded my next hand and cashed out up a hundred bucks. I walked to the sports book and proceeded to laugh for the next half hour. After walking through the casinos to my car at the Royale and driving said Buick halfway home, I was still hysterically laughing aloud. I got a call from some of my boys in Chicago, and couldn’t even communicate because I was still laughing. Seriously, most dominant hand I ever played dude, I think she was crying as she left the table. Fucking domination.

I came home, smoked a celebratory bowl and passed out for like three hours. I came to as my roommate Russell who had been passed out since five PM slammed the door to the bathroom. The only thing on my mind was poker so Russell agreed to hit the tables at like 2 AM. We decided to play no limit at the Aladdin, and I warned him that karma could catch up to me from my previous day’s antics. I cashed in for a beaner, and owned the fucking table the entire time. I literally hit every flush draw, flopped top pair more often than not, and won every race. I built my hundred I had taken from cat earlier into four hundred and eighty six dollars, a pretty good crowd for a Saturday. Russell cashed out up fifty, thought he would have been up a bunch more if his three of a kind jacks with an ace kicker had held up against pocket threes. And the moral of the story is? The poker gods are sick fucks with a great sense of humor, they reward strong moves out there and once you have curried their favor you can never be stopped.

The Best Hand I Ever Played

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