Maudie at PokerWorks

A long, long time ago, at the tender age of twenty-five I made my first visit to California. Los Angeles to be exact. I’d moved to Phoenix and made the California visit with some of the folks with whom I was living at the time.

I went to visit a college roommate and some others from my college days. If I may be so bold as to drop names, Annie Potts was one of the people I intended to see, but I missed her. Saw her apartment, which was off Sunset Blvd., but didn’t see her. I did, however, see my college roommate and stayed overnight with her and her boyfriend of the time.

The second day of my visit, she took me to a place that, once inside, transported me far away from the LA smog and the hustle of the city. She took me to the happiest place on earth. I recall the anticipation as we neared, driving into the lot and then seeing the entrance to the Magic Kingdom.

I flashed on that memory as I drove into Atlantic City.

The drive is a short hour from Philadelphia - well short if you take I-476 around instead of I-76 through Philly. Heather lead the way, but I managed to lose her when I pulled up behind what I thought was her car only to realize my error when my speedometer read under the speed limit. A speed demon like myself, no way was that car Heather’s.

By this time I was going through Philly proper on I-76 at a snail’s pace. It reminded me of being in game day traffic here at home. However this slow-up just seemed to be due to poor highway engineering and the remnants of a wreck at the tail end of it. Once free of the traffic, I was on the Atlantic City Expressway - a rather lovely and bill-board free drive to “the shore,” if I might say.

The toll road factor is rather odd. Partial tolls are exacted for bits of the road. The strangest being just out of AC - fifty cents. The price of admission to the adult amusement park that is Atlantic City, New Jersey. I nearly went through the toll twice when I looped around and found myself headed out of town. I was able to turn around, though, at the Visitors Center and tried again to make my way to the Borgata.

That’s where I was to meet up with F-Train and Heather. I could see it in front of me, but there was no straight shot on a road to get there. By trial and error I made it at last and pulled into a lot, going on blind faith that it was the one F-Train said was right by the poker room. But I wasn’t ready to go in yet. Gracie had called while I was on the trail and, rather than risk landing in a ditch while talking to her and trying to find my way while driving, I’d opted to call her back when I got parked.

After a thorough girl-chat and much relief that Gracie would live ,I joined F-Train and Heather inside. F-Train was a bit glassy-eyed having been at the tables for the previous twenty hours or so. Yegods… Howsoever - I was given a tour of a bit of the Borgata as we headed for a bite to eat.

Once fed and watered, we trekked back to the poker room. The Borgata is quite lovely and tasteful for a casino. Marble floors, beautiful Chihuly glass works and soft lighting go a long way towards buffeting the cacophony of noise from the slots and games. Which, by the way, is something that is becoming increasingly more difficult for me to endure. I regretted I’d left my iPhone ear-buds in the car.

The poker room is immense - over ninety tables - and was packed. I opted for a lowly 1/2 no-limit game, while my companions dared the 10/20 limit tables. I might’ve joined them had I the bankroll to withstand the ride, but, alas, the roll was a wee one.

After a short wait, I was called to a table around the corner and at the back of the room. I sat down at the five-seat and was immediately impressed with the seating - a comfortable, high backed chair on rollers. I briefly glanced around the table at my fellow players and dug in for a session of LDP. The max buy-in was $300 and there were some stacks already double to triple that size on the table.

The conversation was centered on the hand that had apparently busted the seat holder prior to my rear end touching down. The woman in the eight seat was the benefactor, it seemed. She proved to be a solid player but, happily, liked to tell us or show us her hands and to analyze along the way. She gave me some valuable information. I knew that if she played back at me in a hand, she darn well had me beat. But I also knew I could move her easily off a draw by throwing in a bit of my own aggression from time to time - whether I had a hand or not.

The same was true for the fellow who was on my left for a while. I pushed him off two pair, which he showed me as he folded - KT. I gave him a sympathetic smile when he said, “I can’t beat your set.” My hand? KT. It’s a nice change to play with “thinking” players, especially those who think too much.

The table morphed with players coming in and out - busting out, that is. I saw some of the worst play I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing in a long time. The kind of play that has you scratching your head wondering if the player was on some sort of high-card draw, or what??? There were three to four of us that endured - me, of course, the woman in the eight-seat, and a chip architect in the three seat.

From time to time I’d scan the room. On one of these occasions, I spied a woman standing over at another table who was swaying slightly in that way a person with an extensively altered constitution sways. I also unwittingly noticed that one side of her thong was thoroughly exposed above the waist of her denim. She was negotiating some cash from a fellow at the table which I soon discovered was for a buy-in so she could play.

I discovered this after returning from a visit to the restroom to see her sitting a seat to my right at our table. And that’s when it got interesting….

This entry was posted on Monday, September 17th, 2007 at 8:41 pm and is filed under Uncategorized.