You know, it’s funny – with a casino not ten minutes from my own front door, I find it a little odd that I get a bit excited at the prospect of coming to the Cherokee Casino in Tulsa to play poker.
I mean, my local casino, Riverwind, is a fine one with a good poker room. It’s tastefully colorful with the only major drawback being the poker room is in the middle of slot chaos, thus rendering it noisy and confusing at times. Still, it lacks something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on until this evening.
I’m currently in Tulsa in the middle of a plushy king-sized bed after a slightly profitable session of 1-2 no-limit at the Cherokee poker room. I was reluctant to leave – I wanted to stick around because the company was so pleasant.
On the drive back to the hotel, I realized I liked the Cherokee because each time I’ve been here, I’ve had a good time. From the very first time when a young man politely whispered in my ear as he was leaving “You look at your chips when you have a big hand” to the gentleman who shook my hand this evening and said “You’re a good player,” every visit has been a pleasant one.
At my home casino, I’ve had sessions when barely a word is spoken and the dealers are nearly zombie-like. That’s not to say I’ve never had a good time there. I’ve played at several friendly tables, but that leans closer to being the exception than the rule.
At the Cherokee, there appears to be more “regulars” who are familiar with each other and whom the dealers know by name. There’s always friendly banter being bandied about. My table this evening being no exception.
Funny story: One of our dealers, Courtney, was teasingly admonishing the one seat not to steal her tips. “I have a three month old at home to take care of.” She finished dealing the hole cards then said, “My tips have gone down since having the baby.”
The one-seat got a funny look on his face, looked at her briefly then said “They look good to me.” There was a beat, then Courtney blushed and said “TIPS – My TIPS have gone down…” Everyone at the table cracked up. A few minutes later the one-seat asked what was the child’s name.
“Erin.”
“What’s the last name?”
“Tucker.”
One seat got that same funny look on his face and I said “TUCKer. She said TUCKer. You need to have your ears cleaned out?”
Another hearty laugh by one and all at the table.
The man who shook my hand and complimented me teased me all evening on each hand I came in on with a raise. “Pocket aces, huh?” he’d say. “Of course,” I’d reply. What he didn’t know was that at least three of times he teased me about aces, I did indeed have pocket aces.
Earlier in the evening after I’d arrived in Tulsa and had discovered how plushy and comfortable this king-sized bed was, I debated whether I should go to the casino or stay in with room service and the Mookie on Full Tilt. It was a tough decision, but I’m glad I opted for the casino – live play is infinitely better than electronic, in my most humble opinion.
But I have to say, it also makes me hungry for the the company of my internet poker pals whose company I miss. IMs and emails just don’t measure up to the twinkle of an eye as you glance at each other across a table, or conversations in the sports book at the IP, or toasting a friendship at the hooker bar in the Rio. I hope I get to see you in Vegas this summer. Right now I’m not sure I’m going to make it, and it’s killing me!
You know, I think I may spend Thursday evening in the middle of this plushy bed, do room service and hang out online. Look for me over at Full Tilt and maybe we can share some laughs at the virtual tables. Have I told you about the Riverwind dealer who carries a copy of Poker Player Newspaper from table to table to sit on….?
In Vegas in June, you must be. So Fat Yoda says.