Last Table At Binion's

Since I now live in So Cal, I usually play live at the Commerce Casino or at the Bike, depending on my mood. If I’m going to be playing late at night, I usually go to the Commerce, where drunken maniacs make it an interesting experience. The thing I love most about CC is the Boba drinks they sell (open until 2AM also); I am addicted to Taro Milk Teas and can’t recommend them enough. One night, I came rolling in after visiting my now ex-girlfriend in Orange County (hi Natasha!) and just missed the boba cutoff. Since I was already there, I decided to jump into game of $2/4 LHE and wait for the stand to reopen. I’ve never played with a more motley assortment of characters in my life than that table. There were only 2 tables going when I sat down, and the contrast between them was hilarious. Our table was rowdy, wild and full of lousy players just there for a good time or trying to work off a tequila buzz. The other table was seriously quiet, only talking when there was a quarrel going on (and there were several). I was having some serious ups and downs due to the wild nature of my table and had to visit the ATM for a reload (I began to question my hobby when I looked at my watch and saw it was 4:30AM and then read the “Are You A Problem Gambler?” sign posted about the cash machine that talked about setting limits). I went on a nice run and recouped my initial buy-in and continued to enjoy the banter and personalities at my table, while the other table was beginning to resemble a funeral procession. At one point, the guy sitting next to me looked over at the somber proceedings and commented, “That looks like the Last Table At Binion’s”, upon which our table burst out laughing; the other table gave us dirty looks, as they somehow knew we were laughing at them.

Eventually, their table broke up and several of their players ended up at ours. This one particularly bitter woman began to berate everybody for their bad play and the dealers for their lousy skills and talked about how she’d been playing for 20+ years and that Commerce was the worst casino in LA. I asked her why the hell she was playing there if it was so bad and moreover, why was she still playing $1/2 if she was such an “expert player”? So, of course, I became her favorite target at the table. This prompted me and the guy to my right to incessantly abuse her every time she lost a hand, and eventually, the whole table was ganging up on her. After even more unpleasantries between the two of is, I got up to use the bathroom. Unlike Dr. Pauly, there were no famous poker pros urinating next to me, unless you count the old codger wearing a Gardena Club hat. When I came back, the evil bitch was in a major argument with the floorwoman (person?) and this culminated in her forcible removal from the casino. After she returned, I asked her what happened; it turned out that she’d gotten in a huge abusive argument with the floorperson (woman?) two weeks before and had been banned from the casino. When she came on duty at 7AM, the floor told her to get the hell out of the casino and that’s when the argument started. The whole table cheered the floor, and it made it a much more pleasant experience.
For some reason (gambling addiction), I stayed all morning, waiting for the boba stand to open. The last two hours of play, in which I consumed three Taro Milk Teas and a Lychee Slush (yum!), saw me hovering around a $10 loss for the session. Around noon, I was the last person standing from the earlier group at my table, so nobody realized how long I’d been there (over ten hours). I hit back to back boats and now had over $100 in profit. When the blinds came around, I got up; this old guy looks up at me and says, “Oh, one of those hit and run artists, huh”. I just said, “Yep!”, cashed out and drove home in a state of mind that can only be described as somewhere between coked up Henry Hill in “Goodfellas” and Tony Montana when he shoots the hitman toward the end of “Scarface”. Boba Teas are the only way to fly!