IT’S NOT RACISM WHEN HE’S RIGHT
Sunday, January 29th, 2006 by Dawn SummersIT’S NOT RACISM WHEN HE’S RIGHT
The last time I was in AC, I was playing poker at our hotel, when a new player joining the table sat down next to me with his chips and said hello.
This isn’t at all unusual.
It may even be mandated by like, I don’t know, manners or civilized society or something.
I smiled, said hello back and returned to the game.
He then said something else, I’m not really sure what because I had just looked down at my hand and saw the rolls royce of poker hands: pocket aces.
I’m already in the “man I hope I don’t lose my whole stack with these” mode, when I make raise from early position.
Of course, the new guy can’t see my cards, so he resumes his chit chat.
“What’s your name?”
I tell him my real name…because well, in real life that’s what you do when you’re not insane.
Again, I am more than a little distracted because my raise has gotten FOUR callers.
WHAT DO THEY HAVE???? ARRRGGHHH
The flop comes K A Q.
WOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I am hoping and praying my raise was enough to chase out the J10 people…Karol, I am looking at you.
The guy, again, having NO idea that I am dealing with how to play my set of aces here, interrupts me again.
“Really? It’s funny, you look a lot like a girl I know named Dawn. She likes poker too.”
I smile politely.
“Nope. My name’s not Dawn.”
Of course, I am also totally thinking “what? all black people look alike to you?”
I return to the hand. There’s been a check to me.
I bet pot.
Two folds.
Then a raise from the checker.
OH NO.
Damn you, JACK TEN.
Fine. Screw it. If I’m going down, I’m going down with aces.
“All-in”
He says ‘call’ in a shot and flips over KQ!
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
I turn over my set.
All eyes are now on the table.
“Man, I figured you had an ace…but not two of them,” says the check raiser, who had only sat down a few hands ago and now watched his whole stack hinging on hitting two runners for quads.
The turn is a King.
His eyes light up.
I stand up.
The river is a FOUR!
Whew!
I sit back down, stacking all the chips, never wanting to hug a dealer more in my whole life.
“Oh my god, he knows F-train,” Karol squeals to me as I start to recover.
What?
I look at the new guy again…I guess he does seem sorta familiar. In between the flop and me watching my stack flash before my eyes before doubling, Karol had told the new guy that I am called Dawn on my blog, found out he was a blogger too and determined that we were indeed linked through he of the poker blogging fame.
“Did we meet at the Bash?”
“No, we met at Borgata. You were watching a movie on your DVD player. But I thought your name was Dawn.”
Yeah…Right…man…what was that about sane people using their real names in real life?
I am such a dork.
But the good news is HiOnPoker is so not a racist. 