Interstellar Adventures

May 21, 2006

I’ll take 5th place

Filed under: Poker Nights — by InterstellarLass @ 10:17 pm

On Saturday, I competed in my first-ever poker tournament. Well, two tournaments actually. The first was a “ladies only” event, with about 18 other “ladies”. I won a couple of awesome door prizes, a new bag and a totally gaudy, but perfect for my poker friends, straight-flush poker hat.

The second tournament was at a sports bar I’d never been to. I was kind of scared, going in by myself and not knowing anyone. But, when I got in I recognized a couple of girls from the earlier tournament. I signed in on the sheet and waited for my table assignment.

There were many characters there. Quite a few women, and older and younger men. The older guys were nice. The young guys were mouthy. Spouting statistics, yammering about games that they’d played before. Talking about their strategy after winning or losing a hand. Here’s one free look a jackass mouthed off two hands before he checked on the turn, checked on the river, and then called my $1,000 raise to see my pocket queens match up with the river queen to make three pretty ladies that beat his two aces. He was pissed. Stupid. Don’t check twice then call a huge raise to see what I have. Two hands later, he was out.

I got pretty low on chips at a couple of points, but worked my way back, playing far fewer hands than I’m used to. I called a couple of hands that I shouldn’t have, and I knew it before I did it. But hey, that’s why it’s called gambling.

I ended up at the final table. There were eight of us. The blinds were $2,000/$4,000 at this point, and I managed to double up twice. But doubling up off $2,000 to start with isn’t that great at the final table. Not when people have seven times the chips you do. Two guys and another girl went out at the table before I did. The top 5 were all girls. I had to go for it on my last hand where I was the big blind, and, I missed the king I needed. Oh well. For my first sanctioned APL tournament, 5th place out of 54 ain’t bad.


Sunday was spent doing laundry. Lots of it. And cleaning out my linen closet. I took Elle to the store to shop for dinner. I bought for Sunday and Monday night since I was in a hurry. And when I got to the checkouts, the lines were long. I had less than the 15 required items for the express self-checkout. All four machines were lit-up, indicating they were available, but only three of the machines were in use. By people that shouldn’t have been allowed to use self-checkout. Searching every item for the bar-code, waiting for the machine to tell them to place their item in the bag, trying to decide what to scan next. I groaned internally.

Then I figured out why one of the machines wasn’t in use. A woman with at least 10 cases of Coke, 10 Healthy Choice frozen dinners, a half dozen two liters of orange drink and some other objects was browsing through the weekly circular, arguing with the self-checkout checker, and holding up the 4th machine. Why the hell is she even in the express lane, much less the self-checkout lane?

The people who shouldn’t use the self-checkout machines finally mananged to pay for their purchases and move out of my way. See, I’m the professional self-checker-outer. I can ring myself up and get out before any of the paid-checkers could do so. I know what to ring up in what order and bag it all together, heaviest items first, ending with bread and eggs. I know what order the machine will ask me questions and exactly which buttons to press so I’m out the door in the fastest time possible. I’m busy people, and this woman was holding up the line!

Once she finished arguing with the clerk, she sat at the machine, trying to figure out how to ring up and pay for all the HUGE items she had in her cart. I turned to the clerk and asked loudly Why is she checking out in this lane? She obviously has too many items. The clerk muttered something back to me that I couldn’t understand. I don’t understand why she’s taking up the express-self-checkout lane when she obviously needs help. The clerk muttered something again while I grabbed my receipt and Elle and headed out the door, throwing a nasty look over my shoulder at the ditz-oid with the year’s supply of Coke. While I was loading my three bags in my car, I thought about going back in and speaking to the manager, asking why they weren’t enforcing the 15-item limit. But then I chickened out. I was short on time too.

Maybe next time I’ll get my courage up to confront where I see stupid people breaking the rules.

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