Rabbit Hunting is poker term that describes a player who looks through the undealt cards after the hand is completed in order to see what would have come next. In addition to being bad form and placing you at high risk for public ridicule it also takes away from the moment of the hand just played good or bad. Being in Vegas is all about the moment; no matter if it's a flip of the card, the roll of the dice or even the pull of a slot. For me this trip was to be about the moment; living rather than just surviving and waiting for things to get better.
While I’m a fierce card player: cribbage, casino and even hearts I’m not much of a poker player. Why this cultural trend has eluded me I’m not sure. It’s not like I’m afraid to lose money, after all I have played PiaGow and Blackjack both downtown and on the Strip, hell I’ve even taken poker lessons while in town and played against the computer at home…it’s just not my thing. The same can’t be said for the LMF and her son the Boo. I’ve traveled to Vegas before during the World Series of Poker (WSOP)…the last time we were there we caught part of the final table. I think the LMF said it best; "to me watching poker live is like watching paint dry". At least when watching the TV counterparts I have a better clue what will happen on the river because I don’t have to guess what’s in everyone’s pocket.
This trip had a different vibe given we visited WSOP on the first of the four “first” days of the main event. This may seem like an odd statement, but given the fact there are so many players having multiple first days is just a way of weeding the fish/punters.
As we entered the Amazon Room (one of many) it was covered in a sea of poker tables. The lighting was errily industrial, and the only sound heard was the riffling of chips coming at you from all directions like grasshoppers eating their way through a crop of winter wheat. The smell of both hope and despiration filled the air. For these players, this was their moment and it was either make or break. At this point, spectators were few and far between even at the “UFO”, the home of the featured table for the purposes of TV.
Now as I said, the LMF is entrenched into the culture both as a player and follower. Her son the Boo is working as a string reporter for the series (deep in the inner circle of the velvet ropes) watching the play, charting hands and speaking with the players…basically he does whatever the Boo needs to do in order to get the story. This is like his fifth year so he knows the score but it's obvious the rose is fallen off the bloom a bit.
Finding the Boo was relatively easy. True confessions: I love the Boo (and his sister Booette) as if they were my own. In fact they are my rent-a-kids…their parents have been kind enough to share for the better part of 24 years. Now that the Boo and Booette are all grown up, it keeps getting better…who else in an “Auntie Mame want-to-be” moment would I want to drink beer and smoke cigars with?
Anyway after his seventeenth straight day working 10-16 hour shifts, the boy looked like he had endured one too many bad beats. After catching his eye the Boo made his way over to the rail where his mother and I stood. We each anted up for our hugs had a very brief chat before sending him back into the pit while we waited for the next break.
At this point the LMF ran off to find one of her poker blogging buddies and I stayed behind to watch the Boo. I’ve already confessed how much I adore this young man, I would be hard pressed to find a truer and more compassionate Do-Bee. I looked down at his left wrist to see a pink & black bracelet that reads “I (heart) boobies” with a pink ribbon…as a recent breast cancer survivor it brought more than a tear to my eye then and now. If that isn’t a tell, I don’t know what is.
If life is about playing the hand you were given at that moment...this young dealt me an inside straight that went Royal. Who needs rabbit hunting when you leave the table in the money.
Finding the Boo was relatively easy. True confessions: I love the Boo (and his sister Booette) as if they were my own. In fact they are my rent-a-kids…their parents have been kind enough to share for the better part of 24 years. Now that the Boo and Booette are all grown up, it keeps getting better…who else in an “Auntie Mame want-to-be” moment would I want to drink beer and smoke cigars with?
Anyway after his seventeenth straight day working 10-16 hour shifts, the boy looked like he had endured one too many bad beats. After catching his eye the Boo made his way over to the rail where his mother and I stood. We each anted up for our hugs had a very brief chat before sending him back into the pit while we waited for the next break.
At this point the LMF ran off to find one of her poker blogging buddies and I stayed behind to watch the Boo. I’ve already confessed how much I adore this young man, I would be hard pressed to find a truer and more compassionate Do-Bee. I looked down at his left wrist to see a pink & black bracelet that reads “I (heart) boobies” with a pink ribbon…as a recent breast cancer survivor it brought more than a tear to my eye then and now. If that isn’t a tell, I don’t know what is.
If life is about playing the hand you were given at that moment...this young dealt me an inside straight that went Royal. Who needs rabbit hunting when you leave the table in the money.
2 comments:
Awww, how sweet! Beautifully written post.
Great post! Well said.
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