Busted by the Bracelet

Monday night:

Windsor card room in beautiful downtown Windsor, Ontario, across the river from Detroit, Michigan, home of the Pistons, Red Wings and the birth place of yours truly.

Carpeted in the latest styles of the seventies.

Offers the best alcoholic beverages money can buy.

Spreads a wide array of no limit games: 1-2 100 max, 200 min no max, 1-2 100 max or 200 min no max--those numbers are Canadian so divide by 1.20.

But damn if that card room ain't full of sharks.

Particularly when you hitch a ride over the border with one.

That's right, I came with my own trouble. Bobby picked me up from my Aunt's place (pronounced "Ant" in Michigan) in the burbs and we sped through downtown Detroit on the freeway at comparatively safe speeds of 85 mph (an effective anti-carjacking measure).

The customs agent took our papers and waved us through with the obligatory "ay" at the end of every sentence. The casino parking lot, apparently an annex to the border post, was coasting distance.

First up was finding the poker room. Reasonably decent, plasma screens, sports book quotes on a ticker, and about 15 tables, 10 of which were spread at 5:30 when we arrived. Next was back out by the slots, where we were tipped off by a helpful employee that we'd get a better exchange rate from the "cart girls". Our cart girl was a pretty ugly, middle-aged middle-eastern man, but he came through with 1.20 rather than 1.19. Woohoo!

Back in the room, we played 5-10 limit briefly while waiting for seats at the 100 max. We played one orbit as I tried to remember how to play limit poker. Not sure if I did, but I did take down one pot with 87 suited when I bet a turn that had given me draws both up and down to a straight and to a flush, got one customer, missed on the river but stole with pot with a last bet. I suppose that was a small mistake on my part and a big mistake by my opponent (unless he couldn't beat an 8).

Quickly Bobby and I were up and seated 10 and 9 respectively at a baby no limit table.

Memorable hands:

Pre flop, large Canuck in early position whom I would not challenge to drinking or pork rind eating contest (call him Moose) bets 10, about the standard table bet. Moose had about 230 behind. Two callers before me and I look down to snowmen (88 for father of SoxLover, who has started reading this site--check out this reference too). I've got about 165 and the price is definitely right. Bobby on my left and the blinds fold.

Flop is 8 5 2 rainbow.

Moose bets out 30 into and the table folds to me. I pause and call.

Turn is a 10. Moose thinks and decides a charge is order. 60 more.

I'm loving it. Since I've only got 65 more, he's pretty much pot committed unless he's on a total bluff. If he has TT, oh well. I pushed.

Moose then apparently violates local rules against table talk--you actually aren't allowed to discuss cards while hands are in progress--the silence rule. FTrain and others will doubt I was able to comply but Bobby will vouch for me. Here comes the interrogation:

"You got AJ?"

Silence.

"You got trips?" [Sic]

Silence.

"You got kings?"

Finally: "That's a pretty wide range of hands."

"You're super-tight." Yes, that's right, I was described by someone who actually had played with me for an hour as "super-tight".

[insert longer Moose-to-Moose dialog]

"Well, I'm pot-committed, I call."

Moose had AQ. That's right, he called me down on the turn with nothing but overs. Sweet.

Things then began to go south for me.

First, with cowboys, I put a tight player on my right all in for 82 Canadian. I was happy when he flipped over Hilton Sisters and even happier when the player on his right offered him the always welcome information that he had mucked a queen. Less happy when the case lady flopped. Oh well.

The really expensive hand happened when I played like a moron against Bobby. On the button, folded around to me with a red QT off, I made it 10, and got called by Bobby and no one else. Yep, heads up with the Bracelet. Since Bobby was out of position and playing tighter than a [insert vulgar reference involving a nun], I did not like my hand very much. Flop however looked good with a queen high though there were two clubs.

I offerred to check it down to my gracious host. Looking to feast on the loudmouthed east-coaster, he wasn't having it and bet out 20. That's about when I should have folded, but he wanted to play the hand so I felt I should, and I thought I was best at that point. I made it 60 to let him know I was serious. I wish he had re-raised me at that point, but instead he just called, and he didn't seem happy.

I was no longer absolutely confident I was ahead, but he just did not seem to like his hand. I put his initial bet down to a semi-bluff and his call due to close to correct odds. The turn came a blank and he checked. I felt I had to push him off his draw. With only 160 or so left and the pot already at 142, I pushed. Bobby thought for a long time, declaring "I know this is a mistake" at the same time he pushed in his stack, which just covered mine.

He had KQ clubs. Good God! The man had flopped top pair, second highest kicker and a draw to the second nuts. I would have re-raised all in on the flop, which is probably why they call Bobby Bracelet Bobby Bracelet and they call me many other names. No miracle ten and I busted out.

Fortunately, as were playing with Canadian dollars, I re-bought and won a bit back with another set of eights. Still, at the end of the night I was still stuck just under one buy-in after cashing out and paying the conversion cost.

I did collect on the overlay though as the big winner bought me a prime rib dinner, including two fingers of SoCo on a dial-a-shot with FTrain (who had to make do with the Vodka he keeps in his night stand). I fear I am starting to actually like the taste of that stuff.

Anyway, I had a blast and don't mind that much getting feasted on by Bobby, who was really kind to take me out late notwithstanding a 7:30 drug-pushing call (no worries Dad, on behalf of a pharmaceutical company—oh that might make you more worried!).

Thanks Bobby!