I did a show last night where the host was a poker dealer for a private club. A lot of his poker pals showed up and it reminded me of a tale. When the poker boom hit in the early 2000’s, I welcomed it with open arms, since my great-Grandpa Albright was a true shyster. He taught me gin rummy, poker, up the river and midnight baseball at the age of six. I’m no genius in cards, but that is a good head start.
After a few years of doing fairly well in some games and even entering a poker league for a few months, I got invited to a game at the Sons of Italy. These old, chest hair exposed, chain smoking, gold chain wearing old guys basically threw me over the table and took away my manhood. Pineapple? Reverse pineapple? What in the hell is going on? Goodbye paycheck, nice to know you.
I scaled it back after that, but once after an open mike I was invited to play at a well known den of coke. I was nervous at first, but after 14 minutes, I had won everyone’s money. $120. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Then I realized these maniacs would probably jump me to get their cash back, so I slipped out the door like a poker ninja. Remind me to play ADD coke addicts every time…as long as I hire a bodyguard.