You can tell I'm not a professional because every so often I'll turn up to a live poker game drunk up to the eyeballs. Yesterday I had a very nice Christmas meal at the acclaimed Taz restaurant near London Bridge Train Station with some work colleagues and proceeded to get merrily drunk. The usual debate as to whether poker is actually "gambling" cropped up and I made a fairly poor effort to convince the table that it wasn't. Then, rather than go home like I should have (it was absolutely bloody freezing) I hopped on the tube and took myself off to The Fox Poker Club for a drunken session.
Totally sloshed, I think I managed to talk nonsense and pretty much non-stop for the entire time at the table. No one seemed to object so I just burbled on regardless. To be honest, I think they were willing to endure my patter for a share of the dwindling chips in my stack. I entered the club with £200 and left with £60. The crucial hand was when I went all-in with JJ against someone who called with 9 10s and who duly flopped his two pair on the flop to scoop the pot.
There must have been about £140 odd in the pot with that hand and a win would have got me back to even. Tipping dealers like a maniac, even when I lost pots, I won very few hands and probably paid out £20 in tips alone. Still, after a freezing journey homeward on the bus, a 3:30AM arrival at home and then up for work at 7:45AM, right slap bang in the middle of a cold, dark week in December, really made me feel much better.
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