The worst part about being unemployed is sitting around alone all day. Even though I didn’t spend a ton of time socializing at my old job, I did take it for granted that I was able to interact with other humans all day. Yesterday was day five of being unemployed, or maybe I should say under employed, as my next door neighbor, John, paid me $60 to help him build a stone wall in Jamaica Plain. It was hard work, but it got me out of the house and doing something. Afterwards I was a total mess of dirt and cement mix when I went to get the kids at the bus stop. Since I am new to this, and they don’t take the bus everyday, I’m still not clear on exactly what time the bus shows up. It dawned on me after a few minutes that I was really early, and because the bus stop just so happens to be at a liquor store, I figured what the hell, why not spend roughly 20% of my income for the week on an 18 pack of Miller High Life.

When I got back outside of the store with my Miller High Lifes, I noticed a camera man setting up, and a television news reporter milling around. It must be the most annoying thing in the world for television news people to have to repeatedly be asked what is going on, but I was curious, so I bugged her about it. She told me something about, I dunno, a trench had overflowed nearby, and some dudes were trapped in a tunnel. I forget the details exactly. While she was telling me this I was more focused on the way she talked to me like she was somebody I ran into everyday. I thanked her for telling me and then sauntered back to my corner of the street, thinking well, if she isn’t the nicest on the scene television reporter ever.

I don’t normally hangout on street corners for over a half an hour. Not really something I am used to, but I noticed as I was out there that my mind started to wander, drift off into nowhere. Probably this was also on account of forgetting my phone, but whatever. The idea sprung into my head that I should ask out the news reporter. Obviously she’d say no, most likely this would occur simultaneously with the arrival of my kids’ bus showing up, but for just the sake of something happening, it’d make things a little more entertaining.

I started to consider my odds. Things I had going against me included but were probably not limited to:

1. She was probably over twenty years younger than me.
2. I was covered in dust and dirt at the time.
3. I am currently unemployed.
4. When my kids hopped off the bus she might surmise that I was married, or there’d be the potential for baby mama drama.
5. I am married.
6. I am not saying she’s judgmental, I really have no idea, but she might be part of a subset of people who if they don’t look down upon you for milling around on a corner in the middle of the day with a case of beer, they instead possibly feel sorry for you. And nobody wants to date somebody because they feel sorry for them.
7. She probably has a boyfriend, and he’s probably an anchor.

Uggh, imagine having a romantic rival who was referred to as “an anchor.”

On the plus side, I figured, well, you never know, maybe she’s crazy. But, before I could make my move, the bus showed up, and I contented myself with the knowledge that there’d be plenty of gambling going on later in the evening at the Crescent Lounge!

I snagged a ride with Candace to the lounge. Not having to drive was a big bonus, because it allowed me to drink, and of course, insobriety is my biggest and most effective weapon at the poker table. I wasn’t alone in this endeavor. Many of the other players were chugging down beers like there was no tomorrow. At one point I was so drunk I asked Jeremy for one of his potato chips. Potato chips? He said to me like I had two heads. Yeah, I said pointing to the bag. “Oh no, these aren’t potato chips, they’re just some nails I like to snack on while playing cards.” I don’t think Jeremy would be intimidated by some guy in a Brooks Brothers suit who calls himself an anchor, and neither should I, next time I run into an attractive television reporter.

It was a pretty fun night. There was supposed to be a tourney with ten minute levels. The first hand of the tournament lasted seven minutes. Then there were calls to extend levels, et cetera. I think tourneys require an amount of anti-social feeling among a group. If everybody is super focused on themselves, that makes for a good tourney. If people are social and want to shoot the shit, that makes for a lousy tourney but a great cash game. And vice versa. Show me an intense and focused group of people in a cash game, and I’ll ask that you show me to the door. The tourney last a while, to be honest, I have no clue how long. I just remembered constantly having about 14 big blinds and getting ace king suited a whole bunch of times. One time I got Ace Queen and jammed and got beat by Ace 3, but must have made some chips with the Ace Kings, because I was still alive at that point. Eventually the tourney came to a three way chop, which netted me a cool $100 (minus my two twenty dollar buy ins). A cash game followed that lasted until almost three am. I was pretty beat the next day.

I am not sure when I will get back to the felt. Poker basement is becoming my “office space” where I go to read books and drink Miller High Lifes. That has to change soon, but I’ll probably need to be employed before I can host again. So if you know anybody hiring a luckbox, let me know.