About a week ago, I tossed on some warm clothes and headed out in the good ol' Integra, hoping it would guide me to a juicy NL game. Tuesday night usually means the cabbie game, which basically means that it's a bunch of guys that are drunk and/or high that want to have a little fun with a paycheck. Most of them work the night shift, and as this was their weekend, it meant that the game could run from about 9pm till at least sunrise. It was perfect. The stakes were a little low for my taste, but full of fishy play.
I get to the house, mosey on up and walk into a garage. But what's this? It's dark??!?! What the fuck? Whip out my cellphone.
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Adam: "Sup Chris?
Me: "Adam? What the fuck? Where is everyone?"
Adam: "Yeah.... no cabbie game. But there's a $1-2 NL game starting in 20 minutes. You in?
Me: "Hell yeah. Let me hit an ATM."
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And so the night took an unexpected turn, and I found myself sitting in a very wealthy, unfamiliar neighborhood waiting for my friends to show up. I made a promise to myself to keep my play super tight/aggressive until I felt a little more comfortable with the people I would soon be meeting.
...
To be continued
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