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The Black Oak Casino. Tuolumne, California. First you get on a little plane that shudders and shakes the entire trip. The plane is so small there is no room overhead for your hand luggage, and the stewardess makes some people change seats for balance.
You stagger off the plane feeling you have already won by being alive. Then you drive for about an hour past rain soaked fi elds and horses and cows and honkytonks and Indian trading posts until you arrive at your destination: the nicest Best Western in town.
After you check into your spacious suite, it’s time to go to the casino where a fancy reception complete with melting ice sculptures awaits you. There is already a line forming to get our autographs. We sign t-shirts and caps, and pictures and playing cards, and I even sign a few lesbian chests.
Then it is time for the Main Event. Phil and I are here for a PokerTek tournament. Phil is a spokesperson for the product and he has to do a certain number of events a year. I am here because… well… I am a good girlfriend.
Originally, when Phil said he had to do this appearance, Mitch, the casino owner, generously said if I came, he would get us a beautiful room at the Ahwahnee Lodge in Yosemite. We thought we could have a nice weekend getaway. But we forgot about it being January.
The night before we leave, Phil comes in the kitchen looking worried. “Look Jennifer,” he says. On his computer is a little map of California. And the whole map is green except Yosemite, which is covered with angry black swirls. “Snowstorms,” says Phil gloomily.
He then gets on the phone with Vito the PokerTech guy, who confi rms that Yosemite is indeed buried in snow, but not to worry; when the casino rented our car, snow chains at no extra charge. After much deliberation we realize it is a bad idea to drive into a blizzard, and therefore the trip will only be an overnight one, to the casino and back. “Hooray!” I say. “Then there’s no reason for me to go! I’ll stay here!”
Phil looks miserable. “Please Jennifer, don’t make me go by myself,” he pleads. So here we are. Phil owes me one.
The tournament is held in the middle of the casino. There are ropes to keep the throngs of onlookers at bay. Apparently the tickets were so coveted for this event they sold out in less than twenty minutes. They could have sold a lot more, but they only had four tables.
Phil is playing at all of them. That’s right he has four stacks. There is a bounty awarded to anyone who knocks him out. He is fi tted with a microphone and he races from table to table, playing and commenting on the action. He is pretty entertaining. I can see by the happy faces straining forward behind the ropes that they really feel that they’re getting their money’s worth.
My main objective is not to get knocked out early. Because then I would have to stand in the crowd and make polite chitchat and sign more things. I’d much rather play than watch. I try to play tight, but because the structure is pretty fast it’s imperative to make a few moves. I’m lucky, though; every time I get involved I come out on top.
I’ve only played on a PokerTek table a few times before, most notably in Australia. It takes a little getting used to. There are no dealers, cards, or chips — it’s fully automated. If you fold, your cards whisk away into oblivion. If you win, the chips all scoot happily in your direction. It’s kind of like playing online, except you can see your opponents.
At fi rst I fi nd it confusing. I’m never sure whose turn it is or how to bet, but once I get the hang of it, I like it. I fall into a comforting rhythm of clicking away. Because there are no chips or cards to play with, it’s easier to sit still and not exhibit tells. And because the dealer is a computer, the game moves a lot faster.
The only time the action slows down is when it’s Phil’s turn and he is playing some other table. When this happens we all yell “Phil!” in unison and he comes running over, apologizing profusely. Then he makes his play and dashes off to the next table without lingering to see how it turns out.
I don’t realize I am chip leader until Phil comes over, and announces it on the microphone. Normally you can look around and see your chip castle towering over everybody else’s. But here the chip count is just a number on your screen, so it doesn’t present the same visual.
This changes the dynamic of the game as well. It is so easy to click “all in” that everybody is doing it. Also I fi nd whereas normally people are reluctant to get involved with the big stack, when you can’t actually see it, it’s not nearly as intimidating. People are always calling my big bets, only to go down like ninepins.
By the time we get to the fi nal table, I am quite tipsy. They have this really good beer called Fat Tire, and I keep drinking it because it seems like the thing to do in Tuolumne. I know I am going to win. I have all the chips, and everything is going right for me. I get great cards, I win every race, I know what everybody has. Even when I get it in with the worst hand, I am confi dent I will suck out. It’s that kind of night.
When I win, I grab the microphone and babble on happily about who knows what. Everybody is laughing. I tell the crowd I never get cards in a big tournament, but here at the Black Oaks Casino, God loves me. There are no dealers to tip, so I tip the fl oor people instead. As well as the main prize, I collect an extra 300 dollars for knocking Phil out twice. My purse is exploding with hundred dollar bills.
After the PokerTek tournament, we have two choices: hang out at the Best Western or go to Mitch’s house for a private game. We opt for Mitch’s. There are about twenty people there playing a shootout, and I win that one also! Now, I know these tournaments are small potatoes, but something about winning two in a row really gives me my mojo back.
After the Aussie Millions, I was getting pretty discouraged. Aside from the bounty tournament, I bounced out every day in less than an hour. In the Main Event, I lasted literally fi ve minutes. I hadn’t even unpacked my iPod when I looked down at pocket threes. The fl op came 3-9-9. Some people might think it a good omen to fl op a full house, right? My opponent seemed to love his hand, so by the time the ace came on the river all of the money was in. He had ace-nine.
Even though I love Australia, I think of it as a place where I will never win. But here it’s another story. When we check into the tiny airport on the way back, they announce the plane will be late taking off because of mechanical problems. This gives us plenty of time to read all the articles on the wall about local pilots who have died in horrifi c crashes. But I’m not worried. I am in a place where everything goes right. Right now I am in the luckiest place in the world.
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