Here are some poker addiction stories – a tale of degeneracy, sleeping in public, and late night poker games.
It was summer of 2007, and the West Edmonton Casino employees were picketing in front of the casino.
“We want higher wages!” they screamed. “Yeah give us more!”. The employees, mostly old people in their 50s and 60s.
When I strutted into the casino like a sliver back gorilla, an old, frail lady (sitting in a wheel chair, I kid you not) screamed “WOW MISTER YOU’RE COMING IN?!”
I gave her a big smile.
West Edmonton Casino is inside a mall. Isn’t that weird?! Inside a mall, I kid you not. It’s a rather small size casino compared to the other 6 casinos in the city, however it has a poker room, mostly low stakes limit and no limit.
That night, I grind for 16 hours at the casino, only stopping for dinner break.
The poker dealer, an attractive 25 years old tanned skin fox from the Philippine who flirts with me, even ought she’s married. (Later I found her playing at another casino, were we touched each other inappropriately in the smoker’s section)
A clueless yet adorable elderly woman and her husband was playing at the table; sure the poker game is full of fun but underneath the friendly demeanor I’m trying to win all her money, including what’s in her purse and in her bank account. I also want her retirement money.
Poker – a ruthless game indeed.
I played or 16 hours or so – I can’t remember if I won or lost. I think I lost, down around $120 dollars. Since I didn’t have a car at that time, I tried sleeping at the mall, where I got awakened and accosted by the security guards.
“HEY. NO SLEEPING IN THE MALL!” said the male security guard. “Can I see ID?”
I made a feeble excuse, claiming I work at the casino and I’m tired, damn.
“Well … no sleeping in the mall. Sorry, you have to go somewhere”.
It was 3:00 AM, and I called the cab to another casino downtown Edmonton. To enter the poker room, you go up a flight of stairs in a back alley. It feels like I’m about to get robbed any moment.
In the poker room was a gang of Asians, and another poker degenerate who’s a poker dealer at another casino.
The dealer was Vietnamese but talked like a black chick – a deep, husky voice. Her card dealing was robotic, stoic, and inhumanly fast. She wasn’t a human dealing cards, she was a card dispenser.
It was 6:00 AM in the morning, and I’m here with a bunch of degenerates. I’m so tired that there was a straight on the river, and I had the highest straight, yet I folded and flashed my cards (by accident)
After losing my original buy in of $120, I took the bus to a local university where I slept in the lounge. It’s summer of 2007, and it’s the beginning of my adventure as a poker degenerate. Click here for more poker addiction stories
{ Comments on this entry are closed }