Nov. 25: Gems from a gambler's bookshelf
I haven't spent a lot of time in casinos.
As a teenager, I fantasized about turning into a sort of James Bond - a debonair, albeit Canadian, gentleman who always won at the card table simply because I was chosen by the universe to be a winner. This sort of fantasy life is disastrous if you believe it will be truthful once you're actually old enough to place a bet.
I have only lost big at poker once. This is because I don't play poker very often.
Once I decided to try my hand at Texas Hold'Em. The guy who ran the poker room said there were no chairs available but he would put me on a waiting list. He asked for my name and I told him. Whenever he addressed me, he would call me by name. He did not need to consult his list as he'd already committed my name to memory. He had done the same with everyone else in the poker room and I remember thinking that this was quite the amazing skill. I wanted to ask him about it but I didn't think that would be appropriate.
I lost $10 that night.
My friend Daryl was visiting once and a bunch of decided we were going to play cards. Daryl excused himself. He knew that I was a magician (as was one of my confreres) and he said he didn't want to play because he didn't trust us with cards. I was not offended. I knew he trusted me but he didn't trust my friend; he merely grouped us together so as not to offend the stranger.
Later, I discovered that magician friend had a massive collection of pornography, some of which was illegal. I am glad he's not my friend anymore.
When my dad and his friends play poker, they like to make things more interesting by playing with an invisible player named Bob. Bob can't be bluffed out but he can't raise a bet either. Bob stays until the end. If Bob wins the pot, the hand is simply redealt and the money stays in the pot until a real flesh and blood player claims it.
Once, I noticed that Bob was winning an extraordinary number of hands and I suggested that we move him to another chair. My dad said that would be an exercise in frustration. "Bob moves around," he said. "It doesn't matter where you put him."
And I knew he spoke the truth.
Once while performing magic on Electric Avenue, an intense looking man of about 30 walked right up to me and demanded that we cut cards for $20. I told him no but he insisted, getting closer and closer, invading my personal space. I had a one-way deck in my pocket, which is to say it was a deck consisting entirely of the three of hearts. I said he could cut and I would win on red and he would win on black. He cut, saw red, and walked away. I yelled after him to give me my twenty dollars but he ignored me and I don't know where he is right now. Nor do I care.
As a teenager, I fantasized about turning into a sort of James Bond - a debonair, albeit Canadian, gentleman who always won at the card table simply because I was chosen by the universe to be a winner. This sort of fantasy life is disastrous if you believe it will be truthful once you're actually old enough to place a bet.
I have only lost big at poker once. This is because I don't play poker very often.
Once I decided to try my hand at Texas Hold'Em. The guy who ran the poker room said there were no chairs available but he would put me on a waiting list. He asked for my name and I told him. Whenever he addressed me, he would call me by name. He did not need to consult his list as he'd already committed my name to memory. He had done the same with everyone else in the poker room and I remember thinking that this was quite the amazing skill. I wanted to ask him about it but I didn't think that would be appropriate.
I lost $10 that night.
My friend Daryl was visiting once and a bunch of decided we were going to play cards. Daryl excused himself. He knew that I was a magician (as was one of my confreres) and he said he didn't want to play because he didn't trust us with cards. I was not offended. I knew he trusted me but he didn't trust my friend; he merely grouped us together so as not to offend the stranger.
Later, I discovered that magician friend had a massive collection of pornography, some of which was illegal. I am glad he's not my friend anymore.
When my dad and his friends play poker, they like to make things more interesting by playing with an invisible player named Bob. Bob can't be bluffed out but he can't raise a bet either. Bob stays until the end. If Bob wins the pot, the hand is simply redealt and the money stays in the pot until a real flesh and blood player claims it.
Once, I noticed that Bob was winning an extraordinary number of hands and I suggested that we move him to another chair. My dad said that would be an exercise in frustration. "Bob moves around," he said. "It doesn't matter where you put him."
And I knew he spoke the truth.
Once while performing magic on Electric Avenue, an intense looking man of about 30 walked right up to me and demanded that we cut cards for $20. I told him no but he insisted, getting closer and closer, invading my personal space. I had a one-way deck in my pocket, which is to say it was a deck consisting entirely of the three of hearts. I said he could cut and I would win on red and he would win on black. He cut, saw red, and walked away. I yelled after him to give me my twenty dollars but he ignored me and I don't know where he is right now. Nor do I care.
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