You Sure are Pretty . . .

. . . said the drunk, as he sat next to me at the poker table.

We were in this total dive casino in South Seattle. A new acquaintance comped us tickets to the Thursday night comedy show, which was awesome, even if the actual venue was less than spectacular. Thanks, Jerry. We invited the dynamic duo of Cayne and Joshua, but we suspect they were either:

a) Having a romantic evening with their new found love (Joshua),
b) Having nasty, raunchy, non-committal sex with whatever single mom they could find (Cayne), or
c) Enjoying each others' company. Read that as you wish.

But Zeem joined us and enjoyed the show, so afterwards, we sat down together and played a little poker with the locals. There were a few players who just really didn't understand the game, the etiquette, or what the betting structure was (yes, you, Mr. "all-in" at the 3-6 limit game). So at times, it was a little like the special Olympics of poker. Which is probably a disservice to the fine athletes in the Special Olympics.

I knew I was in trouble when I smelled the alcohol fumes. He leaned over and opened with the "you sure are pretty" line . . . not even very original. But I was polite.

Poker rooms tend to be cold. I tend to get cold easily. So I sat at the poker table, shaking my legs, in an effort to try to get some circulation going.

"You're nervous," he commented. When I looked at him in a questioning way, he looked down at my leg and said "You're shaking your legs . . . you're gonna wear a hole in the carpet . . . you're nervous." I asked him what I had to be nervous about since I wasn't in the hand. He laughed and said "I just know you're nervous."

He proceeds to talk to me and continues to lean, reminding me occasionally that he thinks I'm pretty, when suddenly he says "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't notice your wedding ring. I'm sorry - I'm just a horny old man."

I took that moment to say "Well, if you didn't notice the ring, you probably didn't notice my husband, either, sitting right over there, did you?"

He looked up surprised, and then began apologizing to both of us.

A couple hands later, I had QJ in late position. Drunk man had the button. Several folks were in by the time it rounded to me, so I called, and he raises behind me. Everyone made it $6, so I called the extra bet too.

Flop came 10-9-x. Rainbow. I figure I need to be in this one. And there is action all around. Including a raise I call. Drunk man re-raises behind me. Everyone calls.

The turn is a K. Rainbow. A small, but well-timed chorus of angels sounds in my head. At this point, Drunk Man turns to me and says "See, you're nervous, your leg is shaking." I conceded that maybe I might be. Or I might be cold. Like I told him the last time he commented on my shaking leg. There is betting, and I raise, and he says "Not gonna work" and re-raises. The turn gets capped.

The river is another 10. Makes me a tiny bit nervous. Not about him. About the rest of the crowd. It checks to me and I bet. He raises, there is one caller, a few folds, and I re-raise. Knowing he doesn't have the nuts. He calls and the other person calls. I rake a MONSTER pot with my straight, and he turns over a pair. Not even top pair. Which wins me back the money I lost Monday night, plus the buy in from the Monday night tourney.

As I tried to organize an unwieldy pile of chips, I couldn't help but turn to him and say "I told you I was cold." Then I turned to my husband and said "Honey, you sleep with me . . . tell him how I'm always cold."

DrChako wisely said "No you're not . . . "

I think that was the right thing to say . . .

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife