Poker News

Avalon Poker Room

“What are you doing this weekend, Joe?” Hobby asked.

I try to keep up the semblance of being a writer. “I’m working on a story. What’s up?”

“It’s the annual Avalon Poker Run. I signed you up; we can bring the girls along, too.”

I agreed. Inviting Kim- with whom I am seriously behind in brownie points after forgetting our last date-may get me back in her good graces. She asked if she could show off her new bikini. I readily concurred; too bad if others were jealous.

Hobby, nattily attired in short sailing whites, got his 60 foot power cruiser, Lazybuns under way to Catalina Island. I asked, “So what’s the drill for the poker run?”

“The only thing I’m sure of, it costs 100 bucks to enter, which you owe me. Otherwise it’s a mystery.” “Hell, Hobby, what did you get when you signed up?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve got it somewhere,” he said as he began to fumble through his pockets. “Voila! Here it is. You figure it out Joe.”

On a small card was the message: GO TO A BAR AND ORDER A MARGARITA WITH AN OLIVE. “What’s this, Hobby? Do you know what bar?”

“No idea, Joe.”

“That’s great, there’s got to be a dozen or more watering holes in Avalon. I can picture getting plastered before there’s any poker. Where would we start?”

“That’s why I brought you along, Joe. I need a good strategist.”

I checked local directories and Avalon street maps that Hobby had aboard and came up with a list of 15 possibilities. After anchoring in the Bay, Hobby and I and the girls took the rubber dinghy into Avalon.

Kim asked, “Where do we start, Joe?” I suggested the girls go shopping because we might have to do a lot of exploring. Probably not trusting us, they decided to tag along.

I explained, “Most of the bars are within a few minutes walk from here, but that’s too obvious. I propose we start at the bars on the outskirts and work our way back to the center. By then we might meet other players who will be pretty well schnockered. We can pump them for information.”

It was a great day for walking, sunny with a balmy on-shore breeze. It took about 20 minutes to reach the first destination, a small hotel bar. Hobby ordered the margarita cum olive, but the bartender knew nothing about the poker run. It was a ten minutes walk to the next place; this time I did the ordering, but it was another bust.

“Joe, I’m beginning to think your strategy has run amuck. We’ve wasted an hour and have nothing to show for it.”

“Au contraire, yee of little faith. We have already made two significant eliminations,” I said with bravado, though I was also having my doubts. Our next target was a Mexican restaurant and cantina not far away. Judy, Hobby’s girlfriend, suggested she might change our luck. As the waiter approached our table she said, “I’d like a margarita with an olive.”

Immediately his face lit up. “I was beginning to wonder if anyone would come. I have something for you.”

As we enjoyed the libations, I opened the sealed envelope. Enclosed was a playing card, the 3 of hearts and a note which I read, “Each registered player must order the prescribed drink to receive a card. After collecting up to 5 cards you are eligible to play aboard the Reckless III at 6 o’clock.” Hobby ordered another drink and picked up the jack of spades. With cards in hand and girls in tow, we headed for the next bar.

It was a bust, but we got hits at the following two stops. At the next stop, two players known to Hobby were sloshing drinks at the bar and comparing cards.

We ordered two of the special margaritas and garnered our 4th cards. After lengthy and convoluted negotiations only an inebriate could endure, we agreed to swap one of our finds for one of theirs.

At the Buffalo Springs Station we collected our last cards and enjoyed a leisurely lunch. Since it was only mid-afternoon, the girls suggested we go back to Lazybuns for a nap. A nap was definitely a good idea, but when Kim rolled her eyes in my direction, I knew she had something else in mind first. I was back I her good graces!

Later we left the girls on Lazybuns to watch DVDs while we dinghied off to Reckless III for poker. There were about 15 guys aboard, some of them a short step away from being incoherent.

As drinks and canap?s were consumed, the Skipper took the floor. “Gentlemen, I shall now issue the rules of play. The winner will be the proud possessor of the Avalon Poker Run Trophy for the next year and a $1,000 prize will be donated to the charity of his choice.

Betting for this game will be $25/$50; limit Texas Hold ‘Em. Afterwards, we’ll play dealer’s choice for the remainder of the evening, or until you otherwiseexpire. Incidentally, I have two sober designated water taxi operators aboard.

Now to the details of the game: anyone who has collected at least two cards is eligible to play.” That brought a round of cheers from the less successful scroungers. “Quiet please. Those who have more than two cards may select which two cards they prefer. Remaining cards will be part of the playing deck.”

The Skipper asked everyone to ante $25 and made the flop, a jack, ten, and nine. My little pair of threes seemed worthless, but I stayed for $75 worth of bets. It must have been all those margaritas numbing my thinking, but I was rewarded by the Saint who looks after the reckless as another three came up on the turn. I bet $50 and was immediately raised, another player and I called.

The river was another nine, giving me a full house. I bet $50 and was promptly raised again by the first raiser. The other player mucked. I was going to call, thinking the proceeds went to a charity and there was no need to contribute anymore, but my conscience nagged at me saying, “You should play poker properly and not be niggardly toward the charity.” So I re-raised and called the next raise. I felt good about my hand; I had my opponent down for a straight.

He quickly waived his cards above his head and announced loudly, “I’ve got a king high straight.” I waited quietly for a moment, building the tension, before I said. “That’s a beautiful hand, but I’ve got a full boat.”

After the rousing cheer subsided, I said with less enthusiasm to Hobby, “Well, it’s for a good cause anyway.”

“What do you mean, Joe?”

“The proceeds…for charity.”

“That’s only for the $1,000 prize,” Hobby said.

“What you won on the hand is yours!”

It was a great beginning to a most successful evening of poker.

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