Poker Noir

Imagine you're sitting 20-40 at the Taj. The spacious and normally busy poker room has become subdued as morning draws near and players fight the battle to stay alert. The too-ugly-for-Vegas waitresses are serving up coffees and espressos instead of beers and scotches. Their trays are so covered with dollar bills and chips that you feel slightly ridiculous tipping them at this point. Diet Red Bull? Sorry only regular. Useless cunt. Why does this place even try with the girls when the best they can offer is more over-the-hill Hooters than hot?

Whatever, you're just pissed. It took two hours to get a seat. They tried to sit you when you arrived at a table more busted than these girl's faces. No thanks, you don't enjoy paying the rake while trading even money with your friends. You saw the table you wanted. State school memorabilia and sports jerseys everywhere. College kids and geezers. Mostly white. Fantastic.

Four and five men to the flop every hand, mostly calling stations. The young guys are more focused on shuffling their chips than watching their opponents. Everyone checks their cards way early in the rotation -- nobody is looking to get any pre-flop information. Congratulations, they've read a book on poker. They know what top 20 hands are and have memorized how to play certain hands in certain positions. Cool. Too bad they're more focused on rolling chips around their hand and sweet talking the girls old enough to be their mothers. You love these guys.

It's supposed to be a tough game, the Taj 20-40, but you're killing it. Quadrupled your stack in a few hours. Maybe you've found the softest table, it hasn't been the cards. You haven't slept in three days solid. Your breath stinks strongly of Red Bull, you can smell it on your own breath. Whatever it takes, right? You'd kill for a Provigil right now. Literally kill. Okay, maybe just hurt, but fuck it, sleep or something like it sounds fantastic. Not talking women here either, just fucking sleep.

You're in character. Obnoxious and cocky. Maybe a little preppy. No accent bullshit though, the guys with fake accents are the most gigantic douchebags of poker. You've played this character on the tables for more than 6 years now, he might as well be you. If he wasn't when you started, he is a little bit now. Has it been worth it? It comes back to the money, the fucking money. Where is it now? Spent on things you don't talk about, can't talk about, not with your friends even. Can't exactly buy a car or condo with your poker winnings without reporting to the IRS anyways. It's gone as quickly as it came. Fuck that nonsense, get in character.

You're 5D-6D early to act and decide to straight call despite the extremely loose, aggressive player on your left just to get yourself into a goddamn hand. Thirty minutes of folding mid-weak junk because you know the cannon next to you is raising everything pre-flop. He re-raises and 4 players call 2 bets into the flop. Flop comes K-K-8 rainbow, what's the play?

Most players check here and look to fight another day where they have more to work with -- bluffing into the wild player on the left is not wise unless you have fantastic table image established and your bets represent some real strength. Besides, loose players DO have it sometimes, and bluffing into wild men who catch a good hand is how to waste a lot of money. However, my playstyle is to win hands on 3rd, I bet. Loose player re-raises, players 3 and 4 fold.

Why did I bet? Or what am I betting? I'm betting the King. I came in early pre-flop so KQ and KJ are definitely hands I could be put on. The table is communal enough to play any A-X suited bullshit, and I've been seen playing these hands which is a problem. The beauty and simplicity to playing straight bluffs instead of semi-bluffs is you get to focus exclusively on selling your hand without obsessing too much over what your opponents are holding. I quickly re-raise. There are 10 bets in the pot, I'll take 10 to 1 odds on selling the King. Worst case is our table wild man holds the King and I get the fuck out the way on fourth.

I expect him to quickly call. He pauses. He looks at me. I grin. He grins back. He thinks for a minute while chatting me up. "You should learn to slow play these hands," he informs me. He turns over two red aces and folds. I flip over the 5-6 nothing to the table, he curses, I grin. I collect the chips, tip the dealer, and get up.

It wasn't a big hand. It wasn't the money. The play was nice but it wasn't anything fancy. But it was satisfying. It was personal. WoW once felt this way before cross realm battlegrounds, before trashtalking arena teams you've never faced on separate battlegroups. I want that back.