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It’s that time of month.  The beginning.  It is time to avoid the fluff house games for a little while, and get my poke on.

This morning, I had the Wynn in my crosshairs.  I had to be there later that day to meet with someone, and it was simply a room of opportunity.

Of course, I also like the Wynn room.  Who doesn’t?

The only gripe I have about the room is the $3 chips.  The reason that I do not like them is because an unusual number of poker players have trouble with multiplication.  So much so, that it is not uncommon for people at a 1/3 game to bet “chips”.

Often when you are sitting at the table, some guy will grab 5 off the top, and say “I raise five chips”, instead of “I raise $15”.  Sometimes I get confused looking in the pot.  My mind is programmed to process 1’s, 5’s, and 25’s, but when they are mixed in with 3’s, it gives me head problems.

Aside from that, it’s a great room.

Unfortunately, I only had an hour to play, and I was 45 minutes into my session without making any real money.  I was actually down a little due to blind erosion.  I would have been down more,  but I won a small pot early on with two pair.  As it stood, I was in the hole for maybe 5%, but hey, it’s better than getting wiped out.

I decided to play through one more big blind.  I always leave one or two hands after my blinds.  I may play hit-and-run, but that’s fair in my opinion.  Someone went up against me and lost fair and square.

I consider it somewhat discourteous to leave because of an impending blind, though.  It’s like peeing on the toilet seat and not wiping it off.  You know someone behind you is going to have to deal with it.  Say what you want about my manners, but I never abandon my blinds.  Even if I win big right before the blind, I will often throw my chips down for the blinds … and then leave after I play the button.

I had already gotten my things together, and was preparing to leave when I posted the big blind and mucked.  I was ready to play my final hand in the small, and was dealt 2-2.

As luck would have it, they were unsuited.  I don’t know why, but this always happens to me.  For once in my life I would like to get a suited pair.  Just once.  Alas, like the elusive Royal Flush, it has never happened.

The hand was mucked around to the small blind, and I was ready to “chop chop”.  I always chop if I can.  As soon as the button folded, I turned and said “chop?”, and without looking at me or saying anything, the guy in front of me fired $15 into the pot.

Of course, it is his right to do so, but I still thought him a total douche factory.

Why?

Because he chopped earlier in the session, in the same situation (me big, him small).  I had A-10 when I chopped.  Not a stellar hand, but playable heads-up.  It was almost certainly better than what he was holding.   It is considered proper etiquette to be consistent in chopping.  Your cards are not supposed to determine the chop.  Either chop always, or chop never.

Also, since I had chopped before, and verbally declared it again, the guy knew I was prepared to throw my hand away.  It was a rather cheap ploy for stealing the big blind.

Usually … holding pocket 2’s, I will always fold to any kind of sizable bet.  It’s a pair, but barely.  As a matter of fact, it is only a 65% heads-up favorite to the worst starting hand (7-2 offsuit), and is a tie with unsuited connectors … such as 4s-5d.

It is not a hand to call with.

However, annoyance got the best of me.  Since I keep my eye only on the money, this rarely happens … but I didn’t want the theft to take place.  I was actually going to reward the guy by paying him for more than the big blind.  I was, and in retrospect still am, an idiot.

I called.

The flop came A-Q-2, two cards suited.

I lucked out and hit a set, but I was still in jeopardy.  My opponent appeared confident.  And ugly.  And his butt smelled of orangutang pecker.  Let’s just say I didn’t like him.

He seemed to be calculating what he thought I would call.  He settled on $30, or as it is known at the Wynn, “10 chips”.

I wasn’t ecstatic with my hand, but I’m not going to fold trips at this point when I still beat anything except Queens, Aces, and a flush draw.

Call.

Turn … A.

Douche went all in.

I thought about it for awhile.  He could still have Queen’s, Aces, Ace-Queen …  I could be drawing dead.

Still, you just don’t fold a boat on the turn unless you know you’re beat, and I didn’t know that I was beat.  I didn’t know what he had. This started out as a blind steal.  He could have fired with anything thinking I had a lame chop hand.

I called, which put me all-in as well.

The river was a 7 of something.  Since I beat any flush, I didn’t care what it was.

It was showcase showdown time.  Douche wanted me to show first.

This is another one of my pet peeves.  Why do people care who shows first???  It doesn’t matter.  No more cards are coming.  Flip the damn things over and get on with life already.  Why do you slow-flippers do this?  Once the betting is over … flip them over immediately.  What in the hell do you people think is going to happen?  A fairy pixie is going to come down and change your losing hand into a winner if you hold onto them long enough?  Jesus The Shortstop Christopher Columbus Christ Almighty Farting in the Manger … Flip the damn things!

I digress.

I flipped my 2-2 for a full house, and my opponent … exclaimed “Asshole!”, then mucked.

Asshole?

What did I do?

I wanted to chop!

Homeboy shot himself squarely in the gonads, and it was my fault?

I have no earthly idea what he had, I just know it couldn’t beat two’s full.

So, let’s recap.  This guy chopped, he later refused to chop, he tried to snake my blinds after I declared that I wanted to chop, he refused to show his cards … and I’m the asshole?  This type of crap is why the French hate us.

Now … I usually don’t gloat.  Actually, I never gloat.  I don’t feel compelled.  The money is the reward.  Just this once, though, I made an exception.

“You sure you don’t want to chop?”, I said.  Mind you, I’m not one to be sarcastic, but I made an exception this once.

He mumbled something about my mother and I having carnal relations, collected the chips he had remaining, got up , left the table, and left the room.  He didn’t even stop at the podium or cashier.  He just vanished.  My guess is that he was looking for a dog to kick.

I was kind of glad that he left, because it made my leaving with his money after the next hand easier.

I tossed the dealer a couple of chips, and the dealer said “thanks … and thanks for taking that guy’s money”, motioning to the vacant seat beside me.  This elicited a round of chuckles from the rest of the table.  “That guy is a real piece of work”, one of them said.  “He’s a d**khead” another said.  Apparently, his reputation preceded him.

Anyway, to sum it up, because of someone else’s discourtesy and assholery, I reached my goal for the day.  I came away with slightly less than double my initial stake, but close enough to call it as such.

I also walked away with a smile.  It does feel like gloating to say so, but it was kind of fun.

As a player, I like to think that Poker is all about the money, but I have to admit, sometimes beating an unpleasant player is almost as fun as winning the pot itself.

Almost.

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