I am currently on my annual sabbatical to the North Carolina Blue Ridge. I hide out in a little Airbnb somewhere in my grandparents' home county, and commune with the mountains and half a dozen generations of friendly ghosts.
I play old-time music with friends old and new, take hikes among the fall foliage, and try to fool trout with bits of feather and hackle.
It's a damn fine existence, particularly when the weather cooperates.
Yesterday, the weather didn't cooperate so much. I sat in my cabin with my coffee.
As an aside to the coffee drinkers: Start with spring water. Use heavy whipping cream, not half and half. Arrange for a view of a huge rhododendron. Coffee never tasted so good.
But I digress. I admit to being a bit of a fair-weather fisherman. Because I'm not particularly adept at actually fooling the trout, standing in the creek must (and usually does) provide its own joy. It was one of those days when you'd have to actually catch fish to really enjoy the day.
Plan B
It's an 80-minute drive over Whitetop Mountain and into the crease of the Blue Ridge to the Hard Rock Casino in Bristol, Virginia (not Tennessee, thank you). I realized that I could get myself together and be sitting in a poker game by lunchtime. By 'getting myself together' I mean leisurely finishing my coffee.
On the drive over, I decided that I was going to put in a marathon (for me) session. Not less than eight hours, unless something went truly awry. After I made that decision, I went back to enjoying the riotous colors of a southwest Virginia autumn.
I helped start a new $1/$3 NLHE game – there were already two others running on the Saturday afternoon. As noted in the linked review above, it's a great room. In fact, it's gotten better: they've increased the $1/$3 cap to $500 and they reduce the rake when the game gets short-handed.
I ended up at table #13, which unfortunately sits in semi-darkness. I spoke to the room manager about it. He said that the surveillance people often adjust the lighting so they can get a clear view of the table, cards, etc. Which I understand, but somebody should think about the players. Specifically old players with old eyes.
The felts are busy with the Hard Rock logo, so there would be times when the dealer said, "Bet is $13," and I'm thinking, "Wow. I only see two chips." The manager said he was going to negotiate with the surveillance team to adjust the lighting.
The Bellagio, this ain't
Maybe 20 minutes in, we had a $25 pot, and somebody bet $15 into it. Fella on my left clearly says, "Raise," and slides out $30. As the day went on, I sensed that I had a slightly OMCer table than the general pool, but literal min-raises were far more frequent than you could imagine.
At one point, jack-four was shown down as a winning hand. I looked for a reaction, but not an eyebrow was raised.
The guy with the jack-four got the chips, the deck went into the shuffler. We're here to play poker, not talk about other people playing poker.
Fellow at the next table over jumped up, came to our table and parked a $1 chip next to the dealer. Then he went to another table (not his) and gave that dealer a $1 chip.
"What's that about?"
"Oh, that's [name]. Whenever he wins a pot, he goes around and tips all the dealers."
That's a poker player with rock-solid karma, right there. Anybody ever did that at the Bellagio, they'd probably call LV Metro.
Floor!
I have a policy of regularly taking off an orbit to stretch my legs, clear my head, rehydrate, etc. During one of those breaks, I noticed that an adjacent table was piled with chips, and seemingly full of action. I went to the podium and asked if I could get moved to that table.
"Sure. If a seat opens up, we'll let you know."
Few minutes later, the brush comes over to me. Leans over so he's right next to my face.
"Lee, we've got you a seat at that table, but, well, if I were you, I wouldn't take it."
"No?"
"There's a customer there who creates a lot of commotion. Slows the game down, kinda makes people crazy."
Guy sitting next to me heard the conversation and glanced over to the other table.
"Oh lord, that's [Bob]. He is a giant pain in the ass, and you'll be miserable at his table."
Sure enough, 'Bob' was involved in a heated discussion with another player and the dealer, ultimately necessitating the room manager to come over, pull 'Bob' away from the table, and give him a talking-to.
Turns out a seat opened up for me because one of the action players got tired of the drama and just left the room.
The $5 chip I gave the brush was the best investment I made all day.
"Why don't they send 'Bob' home?" I asked my neighbor.
"They do. Depending on what happened, for a day, or a week. One time it was a month."
I don't understand this, and sadly, I see it far too often in poker rooms everywhere I go.
One player makes life miserable for their table-mates, the dealer, and the staff. Just send them away for an extended period – give them a six-month timeout. Nobody's business is that important. Letting them do that sends a message to everybody else in the room (players and staff) that that one jerk's right to act out supersedes your right to a peaceful game of cards, or a positive experience during your work shift.
It was truly a wonder that 'Bob's' game didn't break. I wouldn't have lasted 30 minutes at that table.
Dinner time
I wanted to take a comfortable dinner break. But I'd built my stack up to almost $900 and I was that deep with a few players at the table.
"How long do I have for dinner?"
"45 minutes. But you can order from any of the food court restaurants at that kiosk. You put your phone number in with the order. When you get a text that your food is ready, bring us the receipt and we'll send somebody up to get it."
Like magic, it is. When my Baja shrimp tacos (three for $10, including chips and salsa) arrived, I gave the chip runner a generous tip and had my dinner at an empty table. I let the blinds go by two or three times so I got a solid break from the cards.
Groundhog Day
Mostly, it was the glorious repetition of an easygoing low-stakes cash game. Not a single dramatic moment like at Bob's table.
The conversation was about football, because Tennessee was playing South Carolina. And then somebody else was playing somebody else. When they weren't talking about football, they talked about football.
And the high hand promotion. It starts at $100, and rolls over every hour that nobody makes at least aces full. With four or five tables running, it seemed impossible, but hour after hour passed, and nobody could make aces full using both cards.
$400, $500, then $600! I sensed that the folks at my table thought it would be cool for everybody to limp in, see flops, and hope to bink the $600.
That's sort of what happened at our table. Two guys managed to get $150 each in on the turn with a board of K-Q-4-K. One showed down A-A, the other turned up cowboys and said, "High hand!" I will swear on a stack of Super Systems that there was $25 in the pot on the flop.
With that excitement over, they went back to talking about football.
I have absolutely nothing to say about football, even, with apologies to Brad Willis, when South Carolina is involved. But I didn't care, I was in that beautiful timeless space where players and dealers came and went, but the game never stopped.
Back up the mountain
At 10pm, I forced myself to say I wouldn't take any more blinds. I racked up a comfortable profit and hit the cashier. I stopped by the podium and thanked the evening shift for a fine place to while away a bunch of hours in a card game.
I downloaded some Moth podcasts onto the phone (cell service is minimal on Whitetop Mountain) and headed out to the darkness and trucks of I-81.
I put in almost nine hours at (or near) the table. I've played longer sessions, but not recently. And I know that nine hours isn't all that long by the standards of the true degens. I have a busy activity-filled life, and I rarely feel it's appropriate to set aside an entire day and evening to just play cards.
But it was a glorious time and I'm glad I gave myself the time and space to do it.
P.S. Weather turned back gorgeous this morning. Went fishing, actually caught and released a nine-inch brown trout. Life is good.
