Day 2 of a Very AC X-Mas started out with bells. Or, more like rings. Like the ringing of my cell phone at 9am by Mama High. I love Mama High, no doubt about it. You'd love her too if you ever got a chance to meet her. Still, there is one thing that I don't love, and that's being awaken early in the morning while on vacation.

The High Family and the Roose Family are closely tied. My father and Roose's father were friends since their elementary school days, and Dave Roose and I were friends since the womb. The High and Roose Parents had set plans to have breakfast at 9am, and when I heard this, I made one statement: "See you...sometime after breakfast." I made it clear, crystal clear, that I was going to sleep until I woke up naturally. If it was before 9, I'd join them for breakfast, but it wasn't looking likely.

Apparently, Mama High didn't hear me. Or, more accurately, she didn't care, since, as soon as I reminded her in my half-asleep state, she claimed she was Mama Roose calling up. I know your voice Mom. Nice effort though.

I crawled back to bed in our huge junior suite. I passed out for another hour, at which point I got a text from Dave Roose checking if I were awake. I considered responding "no", but opted to ignore it altogether, as I shut off my phone. At about 11 am, wifey Kim and I finally awoke. She showered and I got ready in my poker gear: my HoP shirt, green cargo pants with ample zippers, hat, sneakers, poker wallet, and iPod. We decided to grab some food at the Seaside Cafe. After, wifey Kim would meet up with Mama High and the rest of the ladies for some shopping. The guys would meet up in the poker room.

By the time we were at the restaurants, it was almost noon. The lines for the Cafe were huge, and the buffet was no better. Instead, we opted to go to Adam Good Deli for an egg sandwich. On one hand, I rather have a nice breakfast with wifey Kim as opposed to the shitty eggs at the Deli. On the other, wifey Kim didn't want to miss the shopping excursion and the Siryn's call of poker was calling me from anear.

After picking at some breakfast, wifey Kim and I went in our different directions. I ended up sitting at a 1/2 NL table with a bunch of shortstacks. I love playing against shortstacks because there is an inherent fear to their game that I find very exploitable. This game was fun too, due in large part to the short-haired Asian chick who immediately moved to the seat to my left as soon as it openned up. I joked that she was trying to get position on me, and from there we kept it friendly. It was an interesting poker trip for me overall because I was not getting good cards. Instead, I was doing some odd form of NL grinding, eking out small hands, which slowly accumulated into decent, but not stellar, profit.

The other odd part about the poker was that I didn't have the same sense of urgency. Since Vegas, I've cut down significantly in online play. In fact, I'm just creeping back into it now. Similarly, when I play live, I don't feel the need for long sessions. Usually an hour and a half in, I'm already satiated. It's the feeling you get when you've eaten enough food and, while you could eat more, it would just feel like wasted calories.

I eventually got up from the table, up $210. I would have stayed a tad longer, but I heard the announcement that a new 3/6 LO8 table was opening up. I locked up my seat and finished my 1/2 NL orbit. When I got to the LO8 game, it was clear that I was the young gun. Ironically, at a 1/2 NL table, I'm about middle of the pack.

The table seemed like they were having a good time. The two old guys to my left were very friendly. The old chick in a middle seat was chatty and sociable. The fat bald guy next to her was the class clown, but I had fun joking around with him at first.

I started off a tad loose, if only because of my cards. I probably played the first 4 hands or so, building up table image as I chased nut draws that didn't come. Meanwhile, fat bald guy (FBG) yelled across the table, "Hey, your hat is on backwards!" I pretended to be shocked, and then added to the shtick by checking if my shirt or pants were on backwards. After that, we shared light, sarcastic banter.

While I had built up a loose kid image, I was actually playing great. I hit the wheel on one hand, but was smart enough to slow down against someone else with a wheel low and a 6-high straight. I raised preflop to pump pots when I had scooping potential and check-raised a couple of times when I wanted more money in the pot to pay off my strong hands. I also hit a couple of unexpected runner-runner full houses when I was initially drawing for a straight/K-high flush in one hand, and a nut-low in another hand.

After one of those full house hands, I was stacking my chips when FBG made a comment across the table. "How about my 5?" I looked up, "What do you mean?" "I sent you five. Don't I get my change?" I had no idea what he was talking about. I wasn't about to get involved with it either. I finished stacking my reds and notice one last red in a pile of whites. I added it to my red stack and ignored FBG. When I was done stacking, he was still looking at me. "No, really, I sent you a red. You are just going to keep it?"

This confused me. He seemed sincere, but when I looked at his chips, he clearly had about 7-8 white chips ($1 chips). Why would he send me a redbird ($5) to get change if he didn't need it. Something told me he was trying to con me for $5, but it didn't make sense. He seemed sincere, it was a friendly game, and it's only $5. I told him he shouldn't be throwing chips around, as a defense to the odd guilt I felt for possibly pocketing his $5. We played another hand, and after it was done, he motioned for me to come over.

By now, I was up over $100, so I considered my options. I grabbed 5 white chips and walked over to him. As I said, he seemed so sincere, and since I was up and having a good time, I figured it wouldn't kill me. I gave him the 5 and told him that I was still not sure if he was bullshitting me. He said he'd pay me $5 when he wins a pot from me. I laughed and said okay, and as I returned to my seat, we started a new line of sarcastic jokes. From me: "I'm calling here, but only because I want you to win and pay me my $5." I probably made that joke 3 times, and each time I won the pot. Finally, I said, "Hey man, you gotta start winning! I want my $5 back!" This time, he shot back less friendly: "You own ME $5 man. If we are going to have that deal its gotta work both ways. If you don't pay me $5 for your wins, then I'm not paying you."

At this point, my fun screeched to a grinding halt. This dude was calling me out? Fuck that. I could feel the anger rising inside of me. I looked down at my chips and saw that I was up $160 from the Limit Omaha 8 or Better game. And then I did something I am very proud of. I walked. I quietly gathered up my stuff, racked up my chips, and said good luck to the two old guys on my left. I wasn't going to play tilted. With my $370 total profit (minus $130 from the losses from the night before), I left the poker room.

What I did next, I don't remember. But I do remember that there was more poker to come, including playing a table for the sole purpose of tilting my opponents. For that, though, you're going to have to wait a little bit...

Until next time, make mine poker!

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