American Sign Language for 'Donkey'

I found myself in Philadelphia over this past weekend; close enough to make a quick return trip to Atlantic City with Johnny Cheng, The Shoeshiner, and newcomer D-Nice (names changed to protect the innocent). We got off the plane, checked into our hotel, hopped in the car, and made it to Atlantic City in an hour or so. We planned on playing at the Borgata and this turned out to be a good choice. The room is buzzing, most likely due to the Borgata Open and WPT main event which was starting the next day. We get to the casino and after we find the poker room we all sign up for a little 2/4 hold’em action. The room at the Borgata is huge and spreads a ton of games at several different limits. They had 7 card stud games going from 1-5 spread all the way to 150/300. Hell, they even had a 2/4 Omaha H/L split game going. In any event, we buy chips and wait for our names to be called keeping an eye on the list. I was having a smoke near the entrance of the room and noticed Men Nguyen walk by wearing a special ‘Men the Master’ jacket. Before we knew it, all our names were off the list and we had not been called. We had to put our names back on the list, but it didn’t take too long to be seated. I found myself at a table full of 9 strangers, but soon enough The Shoeshiner sat down at my table. D-Nice and Johnny Cheng found themselves at an adjacent table.

The table was about what I expected from a 2/4 table; A couple of loose talkative guys to my right, a grandmother in seat 9, a few decent young guys about my age, and a couple of middle age rocks. One of the talkative guys 2 to my right was soon replaced by a scrawny grubby looking dude with a beard and longer hair. This guy looked like someone who got the money for his buy-in by hanging out at the casino all day waiting for chips to fall on the floor or by stealing from 78 year-old ‘slot jockeys.’ The grubby guy sits down and the dealer asks him if he wants to post and he starts to point and is grunting like Marlee Matlin. It turns out he was deaf and mute. The first few hours were pretty uneventful, I was hanging around even and drinking Bud Lights like they were free, which they were. Although, someone at out table spots Antonio Esfandiari as he is walking into the poker room.

Some time later I get 9 7 offsuit in the small blind and call a raise from deaf/mute who was 2 to my right at the time, and we get 4 other callers. Flop come 9 A x and I called deaf/mute’s bet on the flop and turn. We are heads up and the river comes a 7 and I call and show my two pair. He angrily flings his cards toward the dealer, slaps the table, and starts mumbling what I assume to be the deaf/mute version of curse words at me. I figure there is no use to try and explain pot odds to the guy, so I just shake my head and shrug my shoulders at him. A few hands after that the guy to my immediate right accuses deaf/mute of taking a bet back. I’m not sure that deaf/mute knew what was going on, but he seemed pretty cheesed-off at this point and left the table for a while.

I’m chugging along basically using what little amount I was up at the table to tip the dealers and waitresses bringing me beer. The deaf/mute guy comes back and moves to seat 9 after granny had left. He stays there for only a few hands and then moves directly to my left. A few hands later I get Q5 sooooted and complete the small blind. Deaf/mute checks and the flop comes A 2 5. I call deaf/mute’s bet on the flop, as does one other player. The turn comes another 5 and I check-raise deaf/mute and he 3 bets. I call and the case 5 comes out and I bet out and he starts going into a mumbling tirade as he calls and shows pocket 2’s. I had laid a nasty-nasty beat on the deaf/mute guy and he started poking me and pointing at the spot on the table where the cards had been. Again, I had no way to respond and could only shrug my shoulders. Fortunately, I had to take a whiz, because I was about to burst out laughing from all the mumbling and grunting. I come back and the next few hands 2’s show up on the board and after the play was done he would start pointing at the cards and grunting at me. The next hand I pick up is 99 in late position and I raise, putting deaf/mute all in. He ends up winning with pocket queens and flings them in front of me after he turned them up. Some time later I am in the bathroom again and deaf/mute is gone when I come back. I go on a decent run for a while and get up a few bets. At this point I see ‘The Grinder’ and his posse walk by. I felt like flinging him a white chip and saying something stupid, like “why don’t you sit down and see what you got, kid.” I didn’t, but what I did do was ogle Jennifer Tilly’s ginormous cleavage as she waltzed in wearing a rather nice black dress with Phil Laak in tow. The four of us decide is about time to leave after playing for 5+ hours. I gotta say the Borgata is easily the nicest room I have seen, and I didn’t even mention the automatic card shufflers, which really sped play up. And, no, deaf/mute was not waiting for me in the parking garage when we left. Although he was most likely still grunting and flashing American sign language gesture for ‘donkey.’