Finally got to play some poker after a long time away from the tables. I was all set to get some cards around 3ish with just a few errands to run beforehand, or more like, one errand to be exact. Grab a lime and some sugar from the local Village Market. While there I figured I’d pick up a Chocolate Eclair Table Top Pie. On the ride over I was cut off by a couple of other drivers so I was in a surly mood. I looked forward to biting into the delicious Table Top Chocolate Eclair custard as a way to suddenly feel better about the world around me, but after opening the box I noticed the pie was covered in mold. So then I went back into the store to get my money back. I was then shuttled from one line– “I can’t do that here” –to the another where I had to compete with obnoxious scratch ticket fish in order to get my dollar back.

When it finally got to my turn in line, this octagenerian scratch ticket player jammed her walker in front of me. What am I supposed to here, tell an old lady it’s not her turn? So, I let her buy her tickets with the $16 she won from the $90 worth of tickets she bought five minutes ago, and of course this is all done with the requisite extended tanking over which type of ticket gives her the best odds of hitting it big. I swear these people. If the tickets were just black and white with the words “YOU LOSE” on them, these idiots would still be at Tedeschis at 1am scratching away.

I finally get to the front of the line and am told to go grab a replacement pie, and I’m like, yeah right, like that one won’t be covered in fungus too, just give me my buck. Then a manager is called over, and before giving me the dollar back, he repeats the get a pie line. It must be Village Market policy to jam people up with enough mold until they’re so discombobulated that they consider scratch tickets a fun past time. What a nightmare.

But things only got worse from there. Instead of getting out to the game, a series of miscommunications and an unlocked door landed me alone in my neighbor’s house waiting for my son and his friends to watch the Eurocup. Thankfully they had a copy of the Sunday Times. I read some article about Serena Williams while wondering if there was somebody upstairs watching me. Eventually the kids showed up, their interest in the game waxed and waned. It was us parents who were forced to watch the whole thing to its dull conclusion. Nobody was able to score a goal in regulation. The announcer mentioned that this was the first time this had happened in a Eurocup final and I thought, yeah right.

Thirty more minutes of soccer, good lord. Finally get rolling around 6, but by now the game has broken. No problem, my buddy Roger was having a game too, but… not enough players. Rog and I find out about a 1/2 PLO game though and after a lot of back and forth texting get ourselves invited to it. And who wouldn’t invite two fish to a game who are ready to dump a combined $800 on everybody else?

The game was in a house down in Brighton and run by a kid named Tony who seemed vaguely familiar to me. He said he recognized me. I think I might have lost a huge pot to him a few years back when he had J3 and I had AJ, but I am not sure about that. Didn’t speak to him too much, but he was a nice enough guy. From the sounds of it, they run games often, and the players, some of whom I recognized, were obviously all underground regs.

I didn’t win a hand for the first 90 minutes of a relatively shorthanded game. Later I hit some flops good, but got counterfeited by the river. In one hand, when I was already down a buy in, I flopped a king high straight on a Jd Th 9h board. I had one heart among my cards. Five of hearts on the turn. Three players, checks all around. Another heart on the river, so I am thinking, well, with my heart, the checks on the turn, nobody here probably has the flush, so I bet $40 on the river with my non-flush nut, and get reraised $125. I really didn’t think he could have the flush there. He’s thinking I don’t have the flush and will fold a non-flush hand because of the board, I thought. Overthinking on my part. Oh well. Played like a fiddle.

An hour or so later I announce it is my last hand of the night, I am the first non-straddler, I asked how much I could pot it with, since I had Ah Ad 2s 6s. I am not sure if this was the right play or not. I know it’s not a great hand, but if there is another raise down the line, do I come over the top? Anyhow, I am told by the dealer I can make it $39 total. Five callers (adios $39), one of whom is all in for less. The guy in front of me bets $100 into a Jc Tc 8s flop. Then it’s to me, I figure there’s a good chance he hit something, and if he didn’t there are two more active players behind me, so I ditch my cards. Everybody else folds, except for the all in guy. The kid who bet $100 makes a straight when a queen shows up on the turn. At least I avoided that, but I was still kind of bummed I would have been ahead if I called or raised. Oh well.

Battered and beaten, Rog and I spent the long ride home trying to come up with plans to make back our money. Maybe that’s half the problem, maybe that’s half the fun. Here’s hoping my next poker adventure turns out a little better.