Quest of a Closet Poker Player

Traveling with a two-year old plus two other boys and my wife in coach is a bit different than flying Virgin Atlantic Upper Class.  But we’re here now.

We’re now in Windsor, west of Heathrow and London.  It was a feverish flurry of activity to leave the house at 3:00 yesterday, which included picking up the boys, taking the dog to the kennel, and donking off a couple hundred to a set of queens when I had AQs and had raised preflop.  The Little Guy has been talking about going to London and riding a double decker bus for probably three weeks.  British Airways was great, easy to check-in and whisked through a secret security area.  We made it to Terminal E with two hours to spare then each grabbed a bite to eat (The Little Guy and the Big Guy hit Mickey D’s, All-In had the Q, Sweetie hit some high-brow place, and I had Arby’s).  I normally can’t stay awake on a plane but was up for three hours with the Little Guy until Sweetie took him to the back of the plane to sleep.  We landed an hour early and had a car service to bring us here, a 150 minute escapade with much of it stuck on the M25.

Our friends have a lovely home that costs £5k/month, housing their family of one teenage girl and three boys.  We haven’t figured out the wireless here, so I’m on their PC posting this.  No wireless will mean no online poker, leaving the Gutshot as the only option to play.  I’m still not sure when I’ll be able to sneak there, but I hope I can spend one evening there.  Nothing take some pounds of the local experts, one pot-limit pot at a time.  I’m not in too good of trans-Atlantic travel shape, so that’s all I’ve got today.  I hope to get more later. 

 

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 21st, 2006 at 7:41 am and is filed under Uncategorized.