Tr snippets: El Cortez narratives

When I was at the El Cortez last December, one of the more eccentric regulars, Action Jackson, came back to the table and reported that one of the other players had threatened his life in the restroom. Apparently Action's constant abrasive, humorously intended brag (part of his poker shtick) had gotten under the skin of a fellow we will call Marine guy (since his over developed arm muscles flaunt marine tattoos). He had angrily confronted Action Jackson in the Men's Room. Jackson just said he was kidding around, but he was clearly perplexed and slightly amused by the threat.

Later at the same table when Action was off for a smoke, another player joked, after playing some very bad cards, that he was the second worst player in Vegas, Action Jackson being the absolute worst.

Marine guy now became offended in Action Jackson's absence. How could this fellow insult his "friend" when Action was not around to defend himself? he wondered to the fellow in threatening tones.
The guy said he was just joking, that Action would most likely agree with him, but the marine pushed his defense of his "friend's" honor in a way that discouraged argument.

I mentioned it to Jackson when he got back to the table and Marine guy had gone off in a huff after the brush would not give him a food comp for so little play. Action was further perplexed that a fellow would both threaten his life and then defend him in the same hour.

That was in December.

So when I saw Action Jackson on this trip, I reminded him of the event. He did not remember it. In fact, he did not remember me. He had trouble placing just who Marine Guy was. Like a faded hold em hand the life threat had slipped out of action Jackson's mind as just part of the daily meaningless El Cortez poker banter.

But the next day there was Marine guy standing at the poker table. He was not playing, but talking to his buddy Que in the way that violent braggarts talk with that loud, arrogant overtalk meant to dominate the table with their own importance.
In the course of the conversation Marine guy told of a recent time at some bar when he had almost violated his parole and went back to prison because some fellow drinker insisted on was talking some trash about him and would not stop even when warned. He said it was a hard decision, but the guy should know better, and that he felt it would be worth going back to jail just to set the guy straight.

It seemed marine guy was always on some mission to set some guy straight.

He also talked of how he could not manage one young son even though he beat him over and over. The kid would just not listen to him.

Action and I agreed later that this was one disturbed fellow. Best to just stay quiet around him and out of his way as much as possible.

Similar to marine guy on this trip was Wayne. Wayne apparently used to be quite sane and polite, but now he must be off meds or on something. He overtalked constantly and insulted just about everyone he could. At one point he mimicked the accent of a Black player in a parrot like manner. At another point he warned a very sweet woman not to touch his blind posted chips, and then said "Got it?" to push home his point.

Wayne was loud and very restless, up and down all the time. The cocktail waitresses cut him off booze. He was a terrible poker player, bullying and betting with nothing. He lost money, but he also forced out players who had decent hands and when he was lucky and actually had good cards, he got paid.

Wayne would be beat easily. We all just waited for cards. Some called too much of nothing thinking Wayne had nothing. Calling with ace high is a mistake.

I was just quiet. When Wayne moved to another seat, I managed to be right next to him by moving over one chair. Some players were surprised to see me move closer to this obnoxious guy. But with Wayne on my left to bet for me, I could better evaluate the action of both Mark and Action Jackson who sat to his left. In fact, since most players waited for Wayne to bet, I became last to act more times than not. That was valuable position.

One player was so outraged by Wayne's obnoxious antics that he stopped on his way out and threatened to look for him out on the street and kick Wayne's a$. The exchange went on so long that security had to be called to escort that fellow and his lost temper out of the casino.

Such are some of the characters at El Cortez.

However, I want to tell a contrasting story, so as to depict the true range of human character in this community of players.

ALBERT'S TALE

Albert is a very quiet dealer. He is polite. I can't place his accent. European. He has dignity, and as you will see a rather well developed sense of honor.
If these fights and arguments would never be tolerated in a strip casino, neither would you encounter the honor of this sweet and gentle dealer.

I was playing at the table when my J-9 made a straight. I knew I had the best hand, but I wanted to trick Action Jackson into betting into my faked weakness. I checked the river.
It was a mistake and cost me money, especially since there was one more caller after action Jackson.
I rarely toss winning cards, but this time I tossed them toward Jackson and said,
"Action, ya let me down."
and he chuckled at my nut straight, wiggled the unlit cigarette hanging from his lips and left the table for a smoke.

Albert misunderstood. Perhaps he thought I was saying that the jacks let me down. He mucked my hand and started to pass the chips to the fellow on my right.

"I had a straight!" I protested. I wasn't rude, but I wanted to assert my winning hand.
Albert hesitated. He listened. He thought about what to do. Apparently he could not take the cards out of the muck.
I thought perhaps he did not believe me, so I said,
"Call Action back and ask him. I was trying to lure him into betting in to me."
So someone did call Action Jackson back and he announced,"He had the Jack-nine for a straight."

Albert looked at the fellow to whom he had given my pot and said,
"Would you count those chips please, sir?"
The fellow assumed he was going to lose the pot and started to push it back. He must have known he had lost, but he had decided to just be quiet in case the mucked cards would give him the win. Still he offered no argument to the dealer. He just quietly pushed the pot back toward the table's center.

"No, I don't want the chips back, " explained Albert. " I just want to know how much was in the pot. Would you count those chips please?"

"20 dollars." the fellow announced after a quick count.
Then Albert looked at me and said, " I owe you twenty dollars, sir," and started to shuffle for the next deal.

"You have to pay that out of your pocket?" I asked Albert.

"It was my mistake," he answered.

"Well that is not right, "I said.

So I turned to the man with the winning chips and said,
"Sir, would you be willing to split that pot."
He was. he gave me $10.
"Okay, "I said to Albert, " We are all settled; issue resolved."

And that would have been the end of it in any other casino in Vegas.
But two hands later I won a pot and when I tipped Albert, I saw him wince. He was expecting that I would not tip because he had fouled up. It bothered him that he had made a mistake that had cost me $10, but I was still tipping.

At the end of Albert's turn dealing another dealer took over. Suddenly there was a light tap on my shoulder.
It was Albert.
He set $10 in chips down next to me and explained, "This gentleman gave you $10- and now I'll give you $10."

So there it was. Albert was not going to just let this mistake go. It was a case of honor. He wanted me to have my full deserved pot.
I could not argue with such honor. I laughed and thanked him.

"You'll get that back, " Action Jackson promised. "You can count on it!"

And so Albert did. The next morning I won a small pot when Albert was dealing, packed up $10 in chips (more than half the pot) and tipped him with it. He chuckled and on went the game.

Each of us had been determined to act honorably.

And that too is in character at the El Cortez.

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PS: Here is just the opposite view of the El Cortez on a fine poker blog

http://pokergrump.blogspot.com/2007/04/armpit-of-las-vegas-poker.html#links