The Other Side of the River

Every once in a while, usually following a losing day, I like to venture to another part of Jacksonville to play some poker. There is a card room about 10 miles from my home, as opposed to the 5 miles away my usual poker palace is located. It's not so much the extra distance traveled that is required to play at this other room, it's more the people that I run into at this other room which makes me tend to stay on my own side of town.

As I drove north on San Jose Blvd, past the McDonald's, past the Hardee's, and Zaxby's, and another McDonalds, and a Burger King, a Wendy's, and a Moe's (southwestern fast food), and Taco Bell, KFC, and another Moe's (popular place in the south), and a multitude of other small restaurants that are not huge chains, I begin to feel a little bit hungry. I'm not sure why, but I feel like I NEED to eat. I wonder what it would be like if everyone just stopped eating at these places, and resigned themselves to the fact that good, healthy, home cooking was the key to happiness and longevity. Do I sound like I'm trying to convince myself? You would be correct.

I turn left and start over the Buckman Bridge. The St John's river is very wide right here, and therefore is quite shallow. I'm assuming that is the reason for placing a 3 mile long bridge at this point in the river. For anyone who lived, or drove through Jax over ten years ago, you most likely tangled with the Buckman Bridge. This bridge used to be four lanes wide, and there would undoubtedly be a crash on the bridge, at some point, nearly every day. I-295 would become a standstill on such occasions. They widened the bridge to eight lanes, and thereby made driving to or from work at least livable for the people who had to use this bridge. I have lived on the southern side of the St. Johns since moving to Jacksonville, and the Orange park Kennel Club was on the other. I have been stuck on this damn bridge a few times, and driving across it right now seems a pleasure.

As I turn right to get off the exit I begin to think about what I may encounter over the next five or six hours. My plan is to play from noon until about 6 pm, and then head home, get dinner together, and decide at that time if I should play a night session in my home poker room. I'm secretly hoping to win about a eight hundred in the next 6 hours, and then by a carton of wine to drink with dinner. Classy with a capital K.

As I'm driving I'm of course listening to the radio. An ad comes on the radio and it at first sounds as though it is an ad for a security company, a la ADT, or Brinks. There is a woman, who's alarm has gone off, and she is talking on the phone to a person from the security company. He is telling her that help is on the way and she replies "You'd better get here soon or somebody is getting blown the blank away!" The next thing you hear is 6 gunshots in a row. It turns out this is an ad for a gun store in Jacksonville. Only in the deep south...

My new favorite song comes on the radio as I'm pulling up to the dog track/poker room. The lyrics go something like this:

Somebody told me
That you had a boyfriend
Who looked like a girlfriend
That I had in February
Of last year
It's not confidential
That I've got potential...

I don't know the name of the song, or the artist who sings it, but damn, it's got an upbeat tune and cool lyrics. I consider this a good omen as I park the car and head inside. I parked under some overhanging trees because the sun is out and it is about 90 right now. It's partly cloudy and the clouds look like giant cotton balls. I do remember where I learned what type of clouds these are called. It was eighth grade science class. Of course, I don't remember the name of the clouds. I walk inside and head upstairs to the card room.

As I get closer to the top of the stairs I can hear the people already playing away. If you've never been inside a poker room you are missing out on seeing the most diverse group of people you can imagine, all getting together to test their mettle against all comers. The sounds of the poker room are unique as well. The overriding sound is that of the clink of hundreds of poker chips clanging together. Poker players like to play with their poker chips while they wait to receive their cards, as they look at their cards, as they decide what to bet, as they place their bet, as they watch the other players, and aw hell... we just play with the poker chips ALL OF THE TIME. As I stand here I realize just how loud the clicking is.

This room has not been a haven for me. It seems like every time I play here something strange happens. It usually involves one of their dealers. For some reason, the poker dealers in this room routinely make mistakes that others just do not make. They are just bad dealers, as a whole, and whenever I play here I have to be sure and pay attention to everything the dealer does because if not then one of them will cost me some money, somehow. Today, nothing the dealer does will cost me anything, but on four different occasions the dealers attempt to push the pot to someone other than the winner of the hand. They cannot read hands. In casino poker there is a rule called "cards speak". This means if you turn your hand face up you personally do not have to have any idea what you have for a hand. The dealer is supposed to read all of the hands, determine a winner, and push the pot accordingly. The first mix up is on a board that reads A K J 9 2. One player turns over A3, and the other turns over A4. The dealer tries to give the pot to the guy with A4. This is clearly a split pot because the best 5 cards that either of them have is A A K J 9, for a tie. No one says anything until I YELL "Chopped Pot". The dealer pauses, looks at the board, looks at the players cards, I say in a dry tone "the kickers don't play" and he smiles and splits up the pot. The dealer has no trouble collecting his tip, from BOTH players, and sliding it into his tip bucket. Jesus Christ.

I may have to dedicate an entire column to just dealers and their bad habits.

I put my name on the list for the 2-5 NL game. I then dutifully get my chips from the cage. Years ago, when I first started playing casino poker, the floor person would take your name, and personally seat you at the table. He, or she, would take your money and walk and get the chips for you. Of course, it was customary to tip the floor person for this service. Nowadays, the player listens for his name on the intercom, hears what table, has to get his own chips, and find the table on his own, and the floor people get a percentage of the dealer's tips. That's pretty effed up, if you ask me. I miss the old days. Does ten years ago constitute the "old days"? It does for me.

I decide to locate the 2-5 games that are running. I see an acquaintance of mine, and he gets up to say hello. We shake hands. He wants to know how things are going, and how much I've been winning. I give my stock answer of "doin alright, winning a little..". Let me explain a little tidbit to the uninitiated. I am not going to talk about amounts won and lost. One reason for this is because it is not your business. You don't need to know. I don't walk up to you and ask you how much money you made last year while swindling people out of their homes, do I? Secondly, I can't talk about it because to tell someone I've been losing is depressing, and to speak of wins can only anger the Poker Gods! So, if you see a poker player, just ask him how he is. He may tell you a detailed story of his wife's infidelities, but he won't speak of his earnings. If you are lucky he'll just say "doin alright, winning a little" because you don't really want to hear about his personal life anyway. I have found to be concerned only with wins and losses it a sure way to go absolutely crazy. Poker is too fickle. The ups and downs are insane.

As I sit here writing this, I realize I have to get ready to play again. I'll continue the Orange Park Adventure at a later time...