A Different World

Two short years ago, my image of a poker room was of a smoky, poorly lit back-room where the exits were flanked by hulking, dangerous men. While it may seem that these opinions are archaic, these beliefs were held by a thirty-two year old woman.

When I met my boyfriend, Michael, he told me that he and his family played poker on a regular basis. Whereas other families sat around fireplaces singing Christmas carols and reveling in past holiday celebrations, his family sat around the freshly cleared dining room table, brought out their cash, and played poker. I could only wonder what type of family this was? What type of man was I choosing to date? What type of element was I exposing my son to?

My first visit to a poker room was a shocking experience. The sheer amount of people in this well-lit environment, playing this game of chance was overwhelming to me. The tremendous buzz of voices combined with the sound of chips being clicked made me develop an incredible headache. I asked my boyfriend how he could stand the noise, and he said he didn’t know what I was talking about.

Figuring he would probably be bored in about an hour, I reasoned it would not be that bad. While watching, I couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to spend hours playing such a boring game. I mean, he kept giving his cards to the dealer - he wasn’t even playing! Instead of leaving, he bought me some Motrin, and had a floor person bring me a chair. I decided this would be my only trip to a casino.

This happened many more times, and although I never left the house to go to the casino without Motrin in my purse, the noise did get a little more tolerable. Out of sheer boredom, I started to ask him questions about why he was doing certain things. Why do you put your cards down without playing? When you keep the cards, why do you put something on top of them? How do you know when it is your turn?

I listened while he and his friends discussed their bad beats, how their Aces were cracked by gut-shots, their sets got sucked out by the river flush, and the guy who called even though he couldn’t beat the board. I nodded politely and pretended to understand this world with a language all its own. I couldn’t understand how they could remember all five of the cards that were in the middle of the table as well as the order when they were put down, or why it mattered.

We watched poker on television, and to my own surprise, I started to enjoy watching. I enjoyed their various personalities, and tried to understand why they would get angry or upset.

We traveled to Las Vegas on vacation, and I spent time by the pool during the day while Michael played poker for hours on end. We shared meals together, and visited the Hoover Dam. Every day, he would win money playing poker, and then he would play Blackjack with me in the evening. Every night he would lose money he had won playing poker, while I would walk away from the tables a winner.

While we were in Vegas, the WSOP Main Event was just beginning. We visited the Rio on the first and third day. The adrenaline in the room was palpable and the buzz of voices and chips were overwhelming. I searched the room for familiar faces from television and was so excited with my first glimpse of a poker celebrity. It was Chris “Jesus” Ferguson walking out of the poker room.

It was this trip, in July, 2005 Michael decided it was time to teach me to play this mysterious game. Upon our return I became a fierce student. In addition to playing I read every poker book that I could get my hands on. One was a book dedicated to poker slang so I would understand what I was reading and what people were saying.

Less than two years later poker has become a part of my life. Now I am the one expressing interest to go to the casino. And while Michael is patiently waiting to leave, I am saying “Let me play one more round”. I have discovered a competitive nature that I never knew I had and have parlayed this competitiveness to final tables in many tournaments. I too, can describe and analyze how I won or lost a hand.

My image and perception of poker rooms have changed as well. My nine-year-old son is planning his twenty-first birthday celebration in Vegas. Then he will have the opportunity to play poker in a poker room with his mom. This past Christmas he won his first $7.00 playing poker around the dining room table. I don’t know who was more proud – my son, myself, or my teacher.

By Kerri PKR Stroming