Interesting Times at the Poker Table

Kate McKinnon playing poker (courtesy of OpenAI GPT-4)

I was in Texas on business last week, so I went cold turkey on poker for a week. When I returned, I played on Friday in a WSOP tournament at the Paris Casino. In fact, I played twice, busting out after an hour, reentering, and busting out again in another three hours. In those four hours (and $3,000), I played only about 10 hands and lost every one. I just wasn’t getting any decent hands.

I then went to the MGM to play in another tournament. I entered that one 3 times (at $500 each) and got to play more hands, but most of them were losing hands. In the final hand, I was in the big blind with a short stack. I had 4♥5♥. One player did a min raise and three other players called, so I did too, just because the pot odds were so good. In other words, though my chances of winning were not great, the amount I could win was pretty big. The flop was 4♣7♣4♠, giving me trip 4s and an inside straight draw. I “hesitantly” did a min raise and, as I'd planned, the big stack shoved. This was exactly what I’d wanted. All the other players folded. I called his bet with my entire stack. He showed A♣10♣ for a flush draw, but I was ahead three to one. The turn card was 10♦ giving him 2 pair. The river was 10♥, giving me a full house!... and him a bigger full house ☹. That was how my luck ran all day. I was very unhappy. Once again, as had been happening for months, I read my opponent correctly, knew the odds were significantly in my favor, manipulated him into betting big, and lost anyway.

On Saturday, I decided to enter a 2-day tournament at the Orleans Casino. The Orleans attracts a lot of people because the buy-in is generally small ($300 this time), but the guaranteed prize pool is high ($250,000 this time). They get a lot of people for their tournaments, which drives up the prize pool.

The Orleans is off the strip by a few blocks. It’s a massive cube with a giant lit-up sign on Tropicana Avenue, in a not-so-great part of town. It's a bit seedy and smoky and a little rundown, and it attracts a lower-income clientele. The chairs at the poker tables are big and cushiony and actually quite comfortable but worn around the edges. The table felt is worn down and a bit sticky from who knows what, so you have to slide them all the way into the middle when you fold them or they’ll stop halfway. The cup holders are often filthy, and I had to get a paper towel from the men’s room to clean out the plastic wrap, toothpick, and gummy substance in mine.

I checked the tournament times on the website; the evening tournament started at 7 PM. I got there almost on time, but there were already 210 alternates—people who had registered late. I figured a lot of people had just gotten there very early. I was alternate #226, but I only waited about 30 minutes to get a seat. But when I sat at the table, I saw the blinds were already $1,000, when they start at $100. After some questions, I found out that the Orleans had moved the starting time up to 4 PM but forgot to update their website. I was starting out 3 hours behind. My stack was $40K, or 40 big blinds--decent, but not what I had anticipated.

I played for the next three hours with a win/loss ratio at nearly 1, keeping my stack just around $40K, but as the blinds increased, my relative stack size got lower. I was getting some decent hands, but not winning enough to get many chips. Down to about 12 big blinds, I shoved with AQ, but everyone folded, making me only a few extra chips.

I got down to about 10 big blinds when I got pocket 6s in the small blind. I raised a little. The big blind raised to about 3/4 of my stack. I decided to call and see the flop. It was 578, not bad for pocket 6s, so I shoved the remainder of my very short stack. The other player called, showing A♦6♦. The board ran out with two small cards, but three diamonds. I got up and wished everyone good luck. I saw the dealer dividing up the other player's stack. I said, "No need. He's obviously got me covered." That seemed strange because he had 3 or 4 times my chips, and the dealer could easily see that.

The dealer turned the other player's cards face down, indicating he’d lost, but another player shouted out, "Wait. He had a flush." The dealer turned the other player's cards face up to show A♦6♥ not A♦6♦. He didn't have a flush, which I would have known if I'd been paying better attention because the 6♦ was actually in my hand. I had won and more than doubled up.

The next hand, I got pocket 6s again. I raised, but now everyone folded. No one wanted to mess with my big stack.

Shortly after that, I got dealt A♠9♠. I raised under the gun. Everyone folded around to a player with a big stack. I got the impression that the player was on the autistic spectrum. When I first sat at the table, I did a double take. And then a triple take, trying to look closer at her without staring uncomfortably. I thought she was Kate McKinnon, the comedian from Saturday Night Live. She was a pretty blonde, but looked a bit disheveled. Her teeth had gaps and stuck out slightly. Her clothes comprised a wrinkled T-shirt and baggy sweatpants. Her face looked “rough around the edges,” and I guessed she was younger than she looked. But she had a sweet smile and liked to talk to the dealers.

When it came her time to bet, the blonde’s eyes rolled up as she started talking quietly to herself, her lips moving slightly. She then looked at me and said, "all in." I really wanted to play my hand but not at the risk of my tournament life. I folded. She showed me pocket Qs. I could have gambled with my suited ace, but it was too big a gamble this far into the tournament, especially when it had taken me so long to get a good stack.

On the next hand I got dealt A♣10♣. I min raised. Everyone folded except the short-stacked player in the big blind who called. The flop was A♦5♣7♥. It looked good for me, with a pair of aces and a backdoor nut flush draw (i.e., I needed two more clubs for the flush, but it would have been the best flush possible). I bet. The short stack shoved. I doubted he had an ace, but it was possible. If he had a pocket pair or a big ace—AK, or AQ, or even AJ—he would have shoved before the flop. Being in the big blind, he could have anything, even 57 for two pair. But I called his bet. Even if I lost, I figured, I'd survive because my stack was bigger than his. He had 68 for an open-ended straight draw. He didn't get his straight, so he busted out, and I collected his stack.

Shortly after that, I got pocket As under the gun. My luck sure had seemed to change for the better. I did a min raise for $8K, hoping someone would raise me, and then I'd reraise big. But only a few people called, including the blonde. The flop was 10 42 rainbow (all different suits). I figured my aces were good, so while the blinds were $4K, I bet $16K. The blonde rolled her eyes back, did some quiet talking to herself, and called. The next card was Q. I again bet $16K. She called again. The river was 7. I checked. There was no possibility of her having a flush or a straight. She thought for a while, her eyes rolling back into her head, then looked straight at me and said, "I’m all in." I figured she had flopped two pair or a set. She was a good player and wouldn’t shove with a big pair or as a bluff against a guy who had been betting really big this whole time. I had to slowly and painfully fold my aces. I said to her,” If I thought you were stupid, I would have called  you.”

She smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” I replied. I told her I'd tell her later what I had, and she promised me the same.

After another ten to twenty minutes, the blonde had amassed a huge stack when suddenly she started shaking. Then crying. Someone asked what was wrong and she held up her hand. One finger was pointed straight out and another finger was twisted around it. She said, "I don't know what's going on. I can't stop this. It hurts.”

She put on her sunglasses. Someone called the floor manager and asked him to call a medic. In a shaky, stammering voice, she kept apologizing and saying she was embarrassed and didn't want anyone to see her crying. Everyone told her not to worry about that. Another young woman at the table suggested she breath slowly to relax, but the blonde kept taking quick, short breaths while sobbing. In a couple minutes, medics arrived, talked with her, and asked her to go with them where they could treat her. They escorted her to an empty table in the back, her giant stack of chips still in front of her seat.

My stack had once again gotten low, to about 12 big blinds. I got dealt AK. A big stack before me raised big. I shoved. Everyone else folded. The big stack called and showed pocket 8s. The flop had an A and I felt good. For a very short time. It also had an 8. I busted out at #100 out of about 450 entries. There were 54 players getting paid and moving onto Day 2. But not me.

I stopped by the table where the blonde was seated, surrounded by security and medics. She had calmed down and her hand seemed back to normal. There was an open package of Advil on the table. She was video chatting with someone on the phone. Security gave me a suspicious look. "I told her I'd tell her my hand," I explained.

The blonde looked up and smiled. "Oh that's right," she said, suddenly ignoring the person on the phone.

"I had pocket aces."

Her eyes widened. "You folded aces?"

"Yeah. Like I said, I don't think you're stupid. I figured you flopped two pair or a set. Did I do the right thing?"

"I can't believe you could read me so well. Am I that readable? I flopped a set of 10s."

"Like I said, you're a good player. Against someone else, I might have called."

Her smile brightened up further.

“Are you doing OK now?”

“Yeah,” she said, holding up her uncontorted hand.

I introduced myself and she told me her name. I told her I'd look for her the next time I played.

I'd lost the tournament, but somehow I felt OK anyway.