Monday, October 30, 2006

Drunk Grandma at Green Valley Ranch

On Thursday, I headed to Green Valley Ranch to check out the new poker room and sports book. All summer long, they had been renovating GVR as they added a new parking deck and spruced up their sports book and poker room. GVR's old poker room was in an area that was originally a restaurant. The close proximity to the parking lot which was an added bonus. The new room reminded me of Red Rock and the same goes for the new sports book. They look almost the same in design.

Impressed? You betcha. I was bummed out that the renovations came a few months after I moved from Henderson. As I walked around looking at the renovations, I got flashbacks of the 2006 WSOP and living with Grubby only a few minutes away from GVR.

After a quick lunch, I ended up at the same 4/8 with a half kill table as Change100. They only spread a few tables and I got on the list for 6/12 and 3/5 NL using their new signup kiosks. Our table was filled up with jovial locals. No grumpy folks, just eight players who knew each other and all of the dealers and acted in good sports. No one complained after a river suckout and no one bitched about shitty cards and for the first three hours, I had fun at the tables. Poker can be an amazing gathering point and with the right personalities, a poker table can provide an escape and keep your spirits lifted.

I did notice one thing, players in their 60s and up don't trust technology. They hate the automatic shufflers and often whisper about getting a cold deck. You'll occasionally hear a request for a hand scramble as the dealers yell out to the floor person that they are honoring a player's request.

I went on a mini rush early and won a few big pots with big hands. I won two pots in similar fashion. With an overpair on a ragged flop (I held A-A and 10-10), I turned a set then rivered a boat when the board paired. That happened twice inside of an hour. It's difficult enough to flop a set. It's even rarer to turn one in a multi-way pot and the chances that you boat up on the river are even slimmer. Yet, I did that twice and I ended up needed the help on the river both times since my opponents flopped two pair. Those lucky cards helped add to my stack.

Change100 sat in Seat 2 and scared the old guys at my end of the table. A guy who looked like Morty Seinfeld lost a big pot to Change. After he mucked his cards and as she began to stack up the big pot, he whispered to me, "She looks all innocent with her baby face, but she's one fuckin' unbelievable player."

I laughed. He had no idea who he was up against. Change100 played well and flopped two straights with junk hands. Morty left the table for a few minutes to get his free casino gift. Yes, a had another flashback when he returned a few minutes later and showed me his freebie. Grubby never missed a free casino gift day in his life and I could picture him trying on his new GVR fanny pack in the parking lot after he dumped a couple hundred dollars into Mr. Cashman slots on the way out.

A couple of the dealers were new and fucked up a few times. Luckily, the locals named Sheldon and Harriet were in a pleasant mood. All it takes is one bitter hag or a surly local to ruin the vibe of a table. That's the risk you take when you play off the Strip. These days you'll find two types of live low-limit and NL games in Las Vegas... on the Strip trying to survive the donkification of newbie tourists playing any two cards or off the Strip with degenerate locals slowly waiting to die as they try to hit the bad beat jackpot.

I took a couple of hits to my stack, especially from an Asian female dealer who wore a Poker Stars hat. She played a lot of jackpot hands (aka low suited connectors) and cracked my Hilton Sisters. In EP I flopped a set of Queens. She had a baby flush draw but rivered a backdoor gutshot straight on me.

Everything was groovy until a sweet looking Grandma that everyone called Georgia put me on mega-tilt so much so that I was teetering on the brink of committing several violent acts against said octogenarian. She slowly made her way over to the table in a walker and an oxygen mask. One of the floor guys helped put her oxygen tank behind the table along the wall after she removed her mask. She had a slow drawl and her hands shook when she threw chips into the pot. The wrinkles on her forehead represented decades of wisdom and I chuckled when she ordered a pink Zinfandel with "a few ice cubes."

Anyway, she looked like a sweet old grandma, but the blue-haired cunt got drunker than AlCantHang at Happy Hour and put me on mega tilt. Behind every innocent grandma is a soused donkey waiting to emerge. Bad beats are a part of the game but she kicked me so hard in the junk (twice) that I lost my shit.

Beware of innocent looking Grandma's sipping wine at local's casinos. They'll suck the life out of you and take all you chips if you're not careful. The first hand I never saw coming. I raised in MP with A-Q and got four callers. I flopped two pair but she had J-8s and caught running jacks for the suckout. Then two hands later, I lost another big pot when I flopped an ace with A-Js and she called me all the way to the river with A-8 and rivered her kicker.

"Sorry about that," the dealer mentioned to me as she pushed the pot towards Georgia.

I glared at the old lady and snapped, "Nice hand Georgia!" in my most snarky voice.

And that's when I sunk deep into the dark abyss of tiltdom. I was winning. Was. I was having fun. Was. That was until Georgia wheeled over to the table and took all my profits with two river suckouts. I stewed in my seat and thought about revenge. I wanted to steal her walker and let out all the air in her oxygen tank.

"Let the silly bitch walk home. I hope she suffocates," I thought to myself as I lost control and made the decision to leave while I still had some semblance of sanity and dignity.

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