Did You Piss Yourself?

So karma has a funny way of working sometimes. When I started this blog the original conception was to tell funny stories that happened to me on both the virtual and brick and mortar felt. As I began the ritual typing of my keyboard again last week it seemed like the crazy people started coming out of the woodwork at Foxwoods. Maybe I’m just more used to it but I’m very rarely surprised by anything I see in the poker room anymore. It wasn’t until this past week that something completely unique happened.

So I was grinding Thursday night in a 1/2NL game. The game was a little on the crazy side. People were showing big time bluffs, pushing action very heavily, and chirping at each other. One player in particular was trying to take on the role of table captain and in doing so had built up a nice winning session for himself. He did seem to be a little on the aggressive side as far as personality goes. I’m sure we’ve all sat with guys like this before. Everything he says and does is great poker, “I lost the pot because the donkey made a bad call.” He was that guy.

It was getting a bit later in the evening, around 11:30PM and moods were shifting a bit. What were once smart ass quips meant to entertain and slightly annoy were now grenades being launched from the trenches of war intended to destroy a player’s psyche. The table got quiet due to mutual fatigue, then banter quickly turned ugly, then another quiet lull before the fireworks would start again. Emotions were running a little high for some players more than others. In my experience, this is when the really good stories are born. These are the conditions where once a spark lights the fuse there is nothing left to do but sit back and watch the mushroom cloud expand and take shape. This night was no exception.

So our table captain, who was sitting in the 10 seat to the right of the dealer, ordered himself a fruit juice from the waitress during one of the table’s lulls in badinage. As it turned out this drink would be this gentleman’s unintended exit strategy. A minute or two after the gentleman put the drink down, he exclaimed to us all, “What the fuck, my pant are wet.” Not really sure how to respond the table just remained in our conversation rut and waited for the player to continue his rant. “Seriously what the fuck is going on my pants are wet.” The dealer would be the first player to break the tension of the moment.

Dealer: “Well did you piss yourself?”
Player: “No I didn’t my cup holder is wet or something. Put your hand right here.”
The cup holder is about 10 inches away from the player’s crotch.
Dealer: “Yeah…that’s not happening.”

As this was going on the cards continued to fly, I for one started laughing my ass off at the ridiculousness of the situation. Did I think this guy really pissed himself? Probably not, however I did find his overreaction to the situation quite hilarious. With another hand having been dealt the rest of the players remained focused on the task at hand but our table captain just couldn’t get his mind past the complexity of his dilemma.

Player: “Seriously, look at my pants they’re wet. My crotch is wet.”
Dealer: “I’m really not sure what you want me to do. Is your cup leaking?”

The cup holders at Foxwoods for the record are made of metal and are therefore not easily punctured, just as a heads up to provide some context to this matter of bladder security. Eventually the dealer called the floor over.

Player: “It’s not that big a deal.” Just as a side bar from me, no one at the table except for this player has been making a scene about anything that’s been going on. So for him to now say it’s not a big deal got me chuckling again.
Dealer: “It’s not a problem sir, the floor will take care of you, that’s his job.”

Two separate floor managers were called over, both of them rendered speechless at the situation. By this time the river card had been dealt out and the board was 6J8J9. Our table captain minraised a river value bet and lost another $80 to one of the loose cannons at the table when his rivered straight fell to the cannon’s J6 boat. Our table captain had had enough at this point. He got up from the table a furiously stormed off to get himself a chip rack. We all watched as he made a lap clean around the poker room, walked up to the cage behind our table, grabbed a rack, then racked up and left. As he was parting for the night he kept making cracks about how the dealer was trying to “embarrass him” in front of the table. Once he left the floor managers just looked at each other and shrugged the whole situation off.

No one is quite sure where this phantom fluid came from. Could it have been from his drink? Maybe he was just getting a little sweaty and it was starting to turn up on his clothes. He could have just had a few too many exciting hands for the night. Sadly like an opponent’s hand folded before showdown, we will never really know for sure. Some people just do a better job at tilting themselves than you or I ever could.

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