I rode the #51 bus to the city yesterday night. It was raining, and half past 9pm. I hadn't slept for 24 hours (probably more). I spent the early hours of yesterday morning watching independent movies on the TV. "World Movies," some classify it as.
The bus ride set me back $4.30. The destination: Casino--poker tables. I felt like Jason Bourne as I walked about 2km from the bus stop through the streets in the city to the tables; never miscalculating; vigilant for malfeasance; hooded jacket (because it was raining).
The feeling
I rarely stay up past 24 hours these days. Like any other person, coffee--in these times--is quintessential to survival. My heartbeat increases 2-3 fold after that 'Venti Latte Double Shot' causing the sensation of shortness of breath for the first hour.
But I was driven by more than just coffee. I was on an adrenalin-steeped stretch of what I believed to be sensible gaming, with risks on the side--naturally. My heart (my actual heart, not the figurative heart) pounds a rich warm pulse (like that of a lower chord on piano keys with emphasis on the ominous) to my torso each time I get the poker hand that I need, and want. Opponents' bets/raises enriches the 'chase,' enlivening it.
It's possible that--by now--the meaning of what I wrote is/was lost in translation. It's not esoteric; it's not a feeling only associated with your friends who dabble in the gamble. You can make sense of it. The feeling is akin to getting something you always wanted. A surprise, if that does it for you. It does for me.
And in the beginning
As per usual, my chip stack declined unfavourably until I finally caught a good hand. I was playing with a few regulars. I've played with half the audience on that table before. An hour past before I had enough money to play aggressively.
I took out a few players' stacks this time. At least 4 players, maybe more. A guilt looms over me each time a player gets felted by me, but the fairness of the game comforts me away from that friendly behaviour. It's not about making friends, it's about making money. If poker was about socialising, there wouldn't be chips involved. Stakes are important!
I was all over the table. I played 6 out of 8 hands, sometimes raising with hands that aren't that great--confuse the prey before striking. And oftentimes folding soon after, especially in the bad position. Bluffing is over-rated, but very useful to set your opponents off.
The introduction of A/King
They call him A/King. He is and old timer; possibly 50 years and above; a regular of regulars. He is known to the whole casino poker scene. If I told you there was a man nicknamed 'A/King' who is there almost everyday, you will figure out who he is within a short time-frame.
He doesn't speak much English. And that's the reason why they call him A/King. It's the most amusing story. Because he doesn't speak much English, the words most frequently spoken by him is an emphatic "A/KING CALL!!" followed by some erratic incomprehensible mumbling. "No thinking!" which becomes "Tung Seng Key!" when it leaves his mouth. I think "Tung Seng Key" actually means something in Chinese. This remains unclear and uncorroborated.
A very amusing uncle he is; speaks Cantonese; wins most times I see him. I don't observe him that much. He's no chump, I'll tell you that much. Not yet, at least. I try not to be in a hand with him because he's hard to predict and read.
Earlier on the table, Uncle A/King had an unfriendly verbal exchange with another uncle (we'll call him Uncle Badminton because he's a Badminton player) sitting on my right--in Cantonese. I didn't dare say a thing, mainly due to my lesser fluent Cantonese.
Badminton Uncle bluffed a pot by going all in with just pocket 5's and Uncle A/King called with two pairs higher. Again, A/King emphatically uttered something in a triumphant tone--he does this a lot--about his bad bluff and this aggravated Uncle Badminton.
This led to an argument. Cantonese flying back and forth and people chuckling, but I knew it was serious because I understood what they were saying.
"Shut up, you" in Canto. [UB]
"Why are you getting all fired up?" in Canto. [AK]
"So you been here a while, so what?" in Canto [UB]
"He no happy I call" voicing it out several times to everyone else in English [AK]
It was confrontational, to say the least. I wanted to say something, but I had bad positioning, to quote from poker. Two very much older men fronting each other.
The introduction of Asian Uncle Gentleman
This uncle is usually dressed in a suit, with gold watch, and likely to be in his forties. I play with a lot of seniors, as I come to realise. He is an average player. He does well on the tables. As well as a regular, he keeps a low profile and says little during gaming.
I totally whaled on this Uncle. He's a good player, but once I started playing fast aggressive, he was taken aback. He would raise and I would call each time, regardless of positioning. I had the right hands for him. Then one round, I failed to hit anything, and bluffed him on a $40 bet; showed him my bluff; he said "good play," the others were somewhat impressed, or at least I'd like to believe that by the sound of their "Waa.. bluffing"
The unlucky thing was that the next game he raised again and I called his raise with 4/5 offsuit. That's not a great hand to call $15 with, but I did anyway. I flopped an open ended draw and raised; he called; the turn came giving me a straight, but there were 3 diamonds there. I value bet $50 thinking that he won't call. I was taking it easy on him. However, Uncle Gentleman comes back over the top with an all-in raise of $166, making it $116 more for me to call.
"You have the flush, don't you?" I asked, and he said no. I flipped over my straight. He said I had to call... and I did. But by that time I was up to about $500 in chips anyhow.
That's the story of me outplaying a nice gentleman. Anyway, he looks well to do and/or comfortable, so I'll just take this as being "lucky."
And in the ending: Triumph!
I changed $300, and cashed out $1,000, a good day at work. I am much more satisfied than the day before. My moment came during the ending of the games. I caught so many hands and had so many cards to call with that I was reminded of my streak as per the other day. In 20 minutes, I made $5oo-600 more.
Something tells me they'll remember me this time. I used to be an obscure player, but now, I think I'm getting to know some of these regular novices. I feel inserted, accepted. People recognise me. It's as if the regulars are brethren; a part of the same working-class of cardplayers trying to make a buck; always waiting till a new fresh player joins the table. That's when the real action begins.
The bus ride set me back $4.30. The destination: Casino--poker tables. I felt like Jason Bourne as I walked about 2km from the bus stop through the streets in the city to the tables; never miscalculating; vigilant for malfeasance; hooded jacket (because it was raining).
The feeling
I rarely stay up past 24 hours these days. Like any other person, coffee--in these times--is quintessential to survival. My heartbeat increases 2-3 fold after that 'Venti Latte Double Shot' causing the sensation of shortness of breath for the first hour.
But I was driven by more than just coffee. I was on an adrenalin-steeped stretch of what I believed to be sensible gaming, with risks on the side--naturally. My heart (my actual heart, not the figurative heart) pounds a rich warm pulse (like that of a lower chord on piano keys with emphasis on the ominous) to my torso each time I get the poker hand that I need, and want. Opponents' bets/raises enriches the 'chase,' enlivening it.
It's possible that--by now--the meaning of what I wrote is/was lost in translation. It's not esoteric; it's not a feeling only associated with your friends who dabble in the gamble. You can make sense of it. The feeling is akin to getting something you always wanted. A surprise, if that does it for you. It does for me.
And in the beginning
As per usual, my chip stack declined unfavourably until I finally caught a good hand. I was playing with a few regulars. I've played with half the audience on that table before. An hour past before I had enough money to play aggressively.
I took out a few players' stacks this time. At least 4 players, maybe more. A guilt looms over me each time a player gets felted by me, but the fairness of the game comforts me away from that friendly behaviour. It's not about making friends, it's about making money. If poker was about socialising, there wouldn't be chips involved. Stakes are important!
I was all over the table. I played 6 out of 8 hands, sometimes raising with hands that aren't that great--confuse the prey before striking. And oftentimes folding soon after, especially in the bad position. Bluffing is over-rated, but very useful to set your opponents off.
The introduction of A/King
They call him A/King. He is and old timer; possibly 50 years and above; a regular of regulars. He is known to the whole casino poker scene. If I told you there was a man nicknamed 'A/King' who is there almost everyday, you will figure out who he is within a short time-frame.
He doesn't speak much English. And that's the reason why they call him A/King. It's the most amusing story. Because he doesn't speak much English, the words most frequently spoken by him is an emphatic "A/KING CALL!!" followed by some erratic incomprehensible mumbling. "No thinking!" which becomes "Tung Seng Key!" when it leaves his mouth. I think "Tung Seng Key" actually means something in Chinese. This remains unclear and uncorroborated.
A very amusing uncle he is; speaks Cantonese; wins most times I see him. I don't observe him that much. He's no chump, I'll tell you that much. Not yet, at least. I try not to be in a hand with him because he's hard to predict and read.
Earlier on the table, Uncle A/King had an unfriendly verbal exchange with another uncle (we'll call him Uncle Badminton because he's a Badminton player) sitting on my right--in Cantonese. I didn't dare say a thing, mainly due to my lesser fluent Cantonese.
Badminton Uncle bluffed a pot by going all in with just pocket 5's and Uncle A/King called with two pairs higher. Again, A/King emphatically uttered something in a triumphant tone--he does this a lot--about his bad bluff and this aggravated Uncle Badminton.
This led to an argument. Cantonese flying back and forth and people chuckling, but I knew it was serious because I understood what they were saying.
"Shut up, you" in Canto. [UB]
"Why are you getting all fired up?" in Canto. [AK]
"So you been here a while, so what?" in Canto [UB]
"He no happy I call" voicing it out several times to everyone else in English [AK]
It was confrontational, to say the least. I wanted to say something, but I had bad positioning, to quote from poker. Two very much older men fronting each other.
The introduction of Asian Uncle Gentleman
This uncle is usually dressed in a suit, with gold watch, and likely to be in his forties. I play with a lot of seniors, as I come to realise. He is an average player. He does well on the tables. As well as a regular, he keeps a low profile and says little during gaming.
I totally whaled on this Uncle. He's a good player, but once I started playing fast aggressive, he was taken aback. He would raise and I would call each time, regardless of positioning. I had the right hands for him. Then one round, I failed to hit anything, and bluffed him on a $40 bet; showed him my bluff; he said "good play," the others were somewhat impressed, or at least I'd like to believe that by the sound of their "Waa.. bluffing"
The unlucky thing was that the next game he raised again and I called his raise with 4/5 offsuit. That's not a great hand to call $15 with, but I did anyway. I flopped an open ended draw and raised; he called; the turn came giving me a straight, but there were 3 diamonds there. I value bet $50 thinking that he won't call. I was taking it easy on him. However, Uncle Gentleman comes back over the top with an all-in raise of $166, making it $116 more for me to call.
"You have the flush, don't you?" I asked, and he said no. I flipped over my straight. He said I had to call... and I did. But by that time I was up to about $500 in chips anyhow.
That's the story of me outplaying a nice gentleman. Anyway, he looks well to do and/or comfortable, so I'll just take this as being "lucky."
And in the ending: Triumph!
I changed $300, and cashed out $1,000, a good day at work. I am much more satisfied than the day before. My moment came during the ending of the games. I caught so many hands and had so many cards to call with that I was reminded of my streak as per the other day. In 20 minutes, I made $5oo-600 more.
Something tells me they'll remember me this time. I used to be an obscure player, but now, I think I'm getting to know some of these regular novices. I feel inserted, accepted. People recognise me. It's as if the regulars are brethren; a part of the same working-class of cardplayers trying to make a buck; always waiting till a new fresh player joins the table. That's when the real action begins.
