Where is MX? And then poker life isn't sad, its a lot of fun.

MX = Mexico, just a postal shorthand.

I agree, the poker life is a great life. When I first started this story, I hadn't played in 3 months, now I am playing weekly - just writing this story gave me the itch to get back into the game as much as I can at the moment.

Hey TST, you never explained why you smoke Senecas. (was it menthol 100s)? Just curious because I live 30 minutes from the Seneca reservation in NY and go there for my $22 cartons, which is a steal considering Newports are over $10 a pack up here.

I forgot I would mention that at a later point (in the past). I will do a mini story on 2014, sort of what life was like outside of poker. I blew through 2014 a little too fast I think in my stories.

WarmDeck

The relief of Mike not being at the games anymore was not instant. When he had run to his truck at the end of the night all pissed off we figured he would show back up like a lost puppy the following game, but time after time there was no Mike to be found. The first few games were a relief for me, he had only owed me $200 at the time for some utility bill I had paid a few months back. Other people in the game, however, were not so happy of his disappearance. He had not only owed Tim and Bookie thousands, but he had been into Tampa John for quite a bit we didn't know about, owed Josh money from the WSOPC back in February, Nazi John, Willy, in fact I couldn't find many people he didn't owe money to. I realized I had made out well in the debt collection situation, as he seemed to pay me off first. The fact that I wasn't naive to his money management tendencies compared to some of the other players and did legitimately threaten him probably gave me priority in the situation. Most of these guys just thought Mike was good for the money and some point in time. It was a little bit bittersweet, and he and Derek had shown me how to effectively deal, not only fast, but how to deal with high tension situations on the table that could break a game if not handled correctly. Mike was a master of customer service, he got great tips, and he had earned them for his ability to make the player feel happy and comfortable at the table. Mike managed to land another job in the customer service industry and no longer makes hero calls for his whole stack anymore.

The whole Donnie going to the police thing really got Tim and some of the other people who had financial interest in the game either riled up or scared. A couple of the guys who had been to jail/prison before just didn't come around for a bit because they couldn't catch another charge. The law as I knew it after consulting a very successful lawyer was in an underground cash game, they had to prove that there was an exchange of money for chips, and that the house had to be raking the game for it to be illegal. This is very hard to prove unless you have an undercover cop actually in the game witnessing all of the above happening. As a result, no new players were to be allowed unless we personally knew them and could be vouched for. If myself, Tim, Josh, Willy, or someone else who had been there since square one didn't know them, they weren't welcome at the game during this time. Willy was even scared to deal most of the time because he still had a pending weed distribution charge and had managed to knock up his girlfriend within 2 months of knowing her. She was a solid 9.5, but he had just turned 21 and he was going to have to adjust to that daddy life instead of truly enjoying his 20s.

All of this put me in the driver's seat for dealing and getting to play staked in the game, a win/win situation. In reality, I would rather deal the entire night and walk home with what I made in tips without risking what I had made. As crazy as this might sound for such a juicy game, I had my business reasons. First was I am admittedly a PLO player and lover of the game, and wanted to keep my bankroll for PLO intact. I was a bankroll nit, and keeping a proper roll for the 5-5-10 games was essential to making money in a professional manner. The other was that some players, whether they like to admit it or not, didn't like dealers also playing in the game the same night that they were dealing. This was often a subconscious thing for them, and when they took a beating from a dealer in a pot they would bring it up then. I admittedly played soft against the players I knew felt this way, so it was much harder for me to make money when I couldn't stack players in the game, and even though it seems like a leak, it was long term +EV to keep players happy. On the other hand, when you are a dealer and a game runner, some players wanted house money in play to try and get it back, so it was impossible to please everyone. With my game recently on the backburner, I decided to make the guaranteed maximum amount and dealt this entire night in late October.

Because of Tim's partner not being too sharp on the ins and out of the game, he and Tim came to an agreement that Tim would run everything and Rhett would make sure the game was filled. They were both under pressure to make money now that Rhett had shelled out 10k and was still in the hole to Tim for another 10, and Tim was not getting all the action of his own game. Rhett did his due diligence and kept a full table with a waiting list, including some not so wholesome characters. Rhett had recruited a small gang of Russians and Serbians from a nearby town and these were a group of guys who had clandestine businesses of their own. I had played with the Serbians at the Fort Myers track, and they would never speak English at the table and weren't really trying to collude, but they seemed to have a little too much table talk in Serbian during multiway pots and it probably killed their own action, but I don't think they really cared. Tim was getting semi-coolered this night - two top vs bottom set, flush over flush, and two sets getting cracked. Around 11pm or so, multiple people were outside either smoking cigs or weed and this usually would set Tim off - he couldn't stand his players getting up and away from the game. He thought it was their duty to stay in the game at all times, and even started to allow people vaping and using herb pens to vape in the house which caused a cloudy and oddly smelling atmosphere.

"Alright, let's take a 10 minute break. You guys want to smoke yourself to death, go ahead." For someone who had been a coke and heroin addict, he sure did give people a hard time for smoking cigarettes, and he would usually partake in the weed. I walked outside to vape a bit myself, and Tim walked me over to the cars parked in the driveway, telling me he wanted me to check out his new tires. He hadn't gotten new tires.

"Listen. I'm stuck over 1500 in the game tonight and I can't pay some of these guys out. I set another deck at the table, the top is set, all you have to do is put it on the bottom and deal. I'll give you $300 to do it." I knew I was never going to set a deck, but told him ok, and figured out a quick plan. I walked back in there and sat in the dealer chair and waited for people to filter in. No one seemed to notice a new deck was in play or that I had supposedly already shuffled. Tim was sitting right next to me in the 9 seat and was watching like a hawk.

"Hey Tim, can you hand me my soda up there on the counter?"

"What, the pop over by the fridge?"

"Yeah, my stomach is really bloated and I need something carbonated."

"I don't see anything over there."

"I left it right over THERE." I pointed to an area you couldn't quite see from the table, and it caught his attention enough that I leapfrogged the set part of the deck over the rest of it, and then took the unset part and laid it on top. No one seemed to notice or care, and Tim didn't see it at all. I started dealing, and as soon as the first card came to Tim, a look on his face that he had been robbed settled in. The hand played out relatively boring, and some random guy took down a $20 pot. Tim was devastated, but he didn't think it was me - he thought he set it wrong. He should have known better that I would never deal a cold deck for any amount of money, and should have brought Willy into the bullpen to do his dirty work. By the end of the night, he had just enough in rake to pay out the Serbian big stacks, but not to pay Rhett. They ended up arguing pretty fiercely, but even if I had cold decked them, it wasn't like Tim could tell Rhett he had done it. Tim didn't understand that his partner was entitled to half the rake, and Rhett underestimated Tim's business capacities. I was only paid half my tips that night, nothing unusual, but I would have gotten it all plus $300 had I done it. You reputation is everything in the gambling world, if you are a suspected cheater or welcher, etc. then you might as well give up the game because no one will give you the respect you once had. Too often someone gets stuck in a tough spot and it seems like the easy way out, but selling yourself out like that is like getting a payday loan you know you will never be able to pay back. It will come back to haunt you.

Tim never said a thing about that night to this day, probably out of embarrassment that he couldn't even cheat properly.

Great story as usual, but why would you make him think you were willing to set the deck? This would lead him to possibly try it again with you in the future, since he knows you agreed to it. I dunno, not trying to nit-pick, just thought a better spot would be to flat out refuse, but i dunno the dynamics of your relationship with Tim.

It wasn't so much the dynamics with Tim and I, but the situation. I had no time to refuse or even discuss it. If he and I got into an argument, and something happened with the deck or it came up, I would be implicated in the deck setting. It was my way of silently telling Tim I wasn't going to be any part of cheating. With what happened with Donnie and his going to the police, I didn't want any more heat/accusations near the games. Obviously if he had asked again where I could talk, I would have said no.

I don't have enough pictures on here as I have nothing of the past, but the present and possible future is always in play.

Damn a warmdeck/TST collabo would be so legendary. Y'all both need to get on Chicago Joey's podcast ASAP. Has he referenced either story yet? Surely he knows about them right?

There might be a trifecta in the works, I don't want to let anyone down, but trying to work on it.

I haven't been in touch with Joey or anything, I'm not sure if he knows about the story.

I'd be writing right now but I have a massive headache that has been with me all weekend.

TST, wanted to say whats up from vegas! I used to live in Peekskill so when I saw you spent some time in White Plains that definitely was a surprise.

I finally finished catching up after binge reading your thread. Youre a great writer and if you ever make it out to vegas some drinks are on me!

Pretty sure that if this goes down there will be a wormhole opened up in the world. That much epicness in one weekend would have to at LEAST rip a hole in the space time continuum.

Someone should get Natumus to start pitching the movie rights to these stories!!

Yeah man, I lived there from 1981-1988 in White Plains. Don't have many stories from back then, I'll see if I can remember something worth writing about my early days.

I would definitely take you up on meeting up in Vegas. If things work out correctly I may have to make a road trip in the Santa Fe out there.

Rollin' In The 6-4

With all the circle-jerking going on at Tim's house about who owes what, people not paying, not getting paid in full, I was happy to see the 614 area code light up on my phone - it was Big John. Big John called me for 3 reasons - to get him wholesale plants, to sell him guns privately because he was paranoid the ATF was going to come to his house, and playing PLO. I had a 1 in 3 chance.

"3Chainz! Whazzup!" This was my nickname from him because I dressed up as an 80s rapper for Halloween and could recite most lyrics by heart.

"Can you get me extended magazines for my Glocks? I want the 33 rounders, as many as I can get."

"Dude, you can go in any store in Florida and just by them, its not even a firearms transaction." He had no reason to hide, but he hated cameras, paper trails, anything that proved he was hoarding money, guns, even booze he had locked up. "Is that what you called me for, Glock mags?"

"No not really. The guys down south are having a game again, can you make it tomorrow night?" Finally, another chance to make it to Boca and get away from the usual shenanigans of the home games. I had been waiting for this call all summer, now that the weather was cooling off, people slowly were coming back to Florida, you could walk around outside and not feel like you were in a sauna, and once in a while it actually dipped into the 60s at night. I then had gotten a great idea. I had to take Ron's car to the game.

Ron was someone I had known since I had first moved to Florida. I had met him in a dive bar in town sometime in late 2004 when I had known almost no one and was just driving around town looking for stuff to do in my newfound home. He was well known around town for his high school antics, loudmouth, girl chasing, et cetera. When he was 17, his dad had a heart attack, and there was negligence on the part of the hospital that took care of him, and his family won a multi-million dollar lawsuit. When he got the money at 18, he probably went through half of it within a year between cars, buying a house, and insane parties, especially for a town this size. He was a hothead and when he was drunk he would get in fights at bars, and being 6 foot 250, he usually came out on top with an assault charge. I wasn't particularly proud to be his friend from an ethical standpoint, but he was always honest and was very loyal, and helped me out of a ****ty situation. Fast forward 5-6 years and I suddenly pulled up a local Facebook news log about two guys getting stabbed at the local Perkins in town - sure enough, Ron was the assailant. The law had finally caught up to him, and even his high profile lawyer couldn't get him a break on this. He was sentenced to 5 years in prison and at the time had very few people that would talk to him. He told me it was in self-defense, and for him self-defense was someone was looking the wrong way at him so he had to stab them in a drunken rage. Ron didn't trust many people, and handed me the keys to the house and told me to look after his cars. He had a 2011 Yukon XL in triple black, with the entire rear cargo area covered in subs and amps. He had been into custom vehicles since his first car at 18, and had went to some vocational school for vehicle modifications. He also had a '64 Impala convertible in Candy Apple Red with a marshmallow white interior on a full pneumatic suspension with 24 switches and 13 inch old school Daytons. He had bought it from a high profile rapper back in 2009 for about 50k and it was a beautiful piece of machinery. I decided to go open his garage and take that beauty for a little ride, it had to be driven anyway a few times a month.

I got to the house, opened the garage door, and finally got it started after sitting for about a month. I never checked under the hood, but I am pretty sure it was a 383 stroker engine that had around 425hp. I brushed off the dust with his special duster and finally figured out how the top came down. Late October to early November is my favorite time in Florida - it is not busy, it is not that hot, and the evenings were perfect. With no rain to be seen for the next 24 hours, it was in the upper 70s and perfect riding weather down to the island. It was nearly out of gas so I pulled up to the station down the street and put a half tank in it. Coming back out from the gas station, two 18-20ish looking girls were staring it down really hard and started talking me up about where I was going tonight and what I was doing. It was tempting, I could probably have gotten away with it, but I would never do that to Nicole. I have too much Catholic guilt in my blood and couldn't live with myself without telling her. I did show them how the switches worked even though I didn't entirely know what I was doing. They gave me their number and instagram/facebook info without me asking, it turned out they were both 19 and both still in highschool.

I couldn't help but put on The Chronic album as it seemed very fitting to the car and the situation. About a mile down the road I turned the corner to visit a friend really quick and I flipped the rear passenger suspension switch it an attempt for some 3-wheel action and the valve stuck open, causing some wheel hop and making the ride feel and look ridiculous. I got it to a local guy I used for my kidnapper van work and he was home thankfully and was able to fix the valve. He was sort of the redneck type and made some comments about it being a ghetto ride. I retorted with his F-350 diesel truck being jacked up and the only offroad action it saw was the gravel parking lot of his favorite bar. After our verbal sparring I gave him $50 for his time and kept on rolling down the road to Boca. I arrived at the bridge right around sunset where I met my arch-nemesis, the toll man. He saw me and shook his head and I handed him the $6 for the toll. I also asked him what the head shake was for, and I got the same ghetto retort. I really felt bad for the guy - he was clearly pissed at life and saw people come and go on this island that made more in a year than he made in a lifetime. I made a snarky comment and was on my way.

That moment you get the tip in and she says 'I am not sure I can do this'

You don't need to quote the whole post.

I get anxiety just thinking about this story coming to an end.

Great stuff as always, thread keeps getting better. Being a Charlotte native now living in south florida, publix is definitely the go to if your looking for quickness and quality. In Nc we have Harris teeter which is the equivalent but only in Nc/Sc i believe and we started seeing Publix pop up a few years back.

looking forward to any WarmDeck/TST colabs in the future

I remember Harris Teeter from my days in the Outer Banks and I believe they were in Winston-Salem too when I was at Wake. Wake is like a country club, there wasn't a real reason to leave campus unless you needed alcohol or cigarettes, which could actually be bought at the campus store, but were cheaper off-campus. They gave you this card and you just swiped it, my dad had put 2k or so on it and he was buying my cigarettes for me for about 4 months.

Sorry about blue balls-ing everyone on the story - I had reached a point where I knew I couldn't tell the whole thing in one chapter, and it was late at the time and my ability to write well was going down fast. I have also been hooked on PLO8 on BetOnline, so if someone wants to come bust my account so I write more, screen name is Licuala as I mentioned before. I will be getting some writing done tonight, not sure if I can finish.

Lived most of my life in mass.online poker was my atm and decided I needed a change of pace.said goodbye to my roommate and headed south without a clue to where I was going,I figured I would know when I saw it.when I entered into boca on a1a I knew this was it.absolutely beautiful.found a real estate agent, looked at a few condos and settled in just short of Deerfield beach.stayed there until the ****s at the justice department stopped online poker..wish I was still there

You lived in Boca Raton, which is a nice ass area, but I was on the other coast, pretty much directly west of you on Boca Grande. I should probably specify that.

I set up a Twitter account for anyone that wanted to follow realtime stuff related to poker, writing, plants, etc. @Truestorytella

Headed toward your old neck of the woods. On 75 at mile 85 now.

Just saw this now, you were in the alley just past the 29 exit? I am off 136 myself.

On another note, obviously I haven't gotten the last part out. Some very serious stuff happened here, and without airing personal problems I am having with living in this area, it looks like I may have to make a move. Nothing is concrete, but if I do move back up to where I was before, I may just say **** it and move out West or somewhere I can do what I want. I hope that doesn't have to happen, we have some interesting things planned, hopefully this week. I will keep everyone updated, and I will keep writing.

Rat-a-tat-tat

Running over the bridge in the Impala was at the perfect time, just 15 minutes before sunset. For those that live in Florida and drive to/from barrier islands, I think we take those times for granted with those insane fire-red sunsets. This is a two lane road that goes for about 9 miles to the south end of the island. The north end was newer condos and stilt houses that had been built for the upper-middle class to have a small slice of paradise. The bottom two-thirds of the island is actually in Lee County and has a whole different feeling about it, mostly that old Florida look with larger mansion-style houses tucked away on larger pieces of property facing the Gulf of Mexico. Once I saw the county line sign, I pulled over and changed from my athletic shorts and t-shirt to a pastel blue collared shirt and plaid shorts. I hadn't worn these clothes since college, but they hadn't gone out of style, and reminded me of my preppy days. I had to fit in, standing out in Boca Grande will not only not get you action, you'll get pulled over. Cops who patrolled the island didn't like outsiders, in fact no one did, and the car stood out too much already. I knew I was getting into the old town when I saw the golf carts dominating the streets with locals, and suddenly I felt like it was just last week I had been here.

Tonight, the game wasn't on a boat, but at Drew's house. I had been texted the address by him, and pulling up, I could tell that this house was one of the oldest of the large mansions on the island. Unlike most of Florida, here in Boca older was more desirable and was also a status symbol. It was a huge Key West style with enough parking for about 10 cars down below, most of which was taken. I pulled behind a black Mercedes and as I got closer I could make out the BRABUS lettering on the back. It was an SL roadster, and I got out to take as much of a peek as I could in the last light of the day. I was one of the last people to show up, but wasn't late. I walked up to the door, rang the doorbell, and Drew answered.

"Hey Liam, nice to see you again! The weather was nice today, no?"

"This is my favorite time of the year, you can't ask for better weather than this, can you?" He nodded, it was about 78 degrees, not humid, and breezy.

"Did you go golfing today? Looks like you just got off the course." I figured I would play the part, and told him I shot up at the club that John belonged to. I was personally never a fan of golf, but he didn't need to know that. He also mentioned we were going to get off to a late start because a couple guys were running late and still eating dinner with their families. I had to ask him about the Brabus.

"I was curious, who's Brabus Roadster is that over there?"

"That's mine, is that you parked behind me?"

"Yeah I hope that's okay."

"Sure, its no problem, you want to run to the liquor store with me?"

I rolled the car back and pulled onto the street with the top down and the doors unlocked. Hell, I could leave the keys in the ignition and nothing would happen to it. Drew was a fan of the Impala and looked it over, but I think he was excited to show me his toy. I got in and from the moment he turned on the ignition, it was like being in a rocketship. This thing was as fast as my SV1000 from back in the day and weighed 10 times as much. I looked it up really quick and it was a 2013 800 Roadster, and I found prices all over the place, from a $215K base price to a site offering one for $580K. I never asked him what it cost, I didn't want to offend him. I wasn't in their social world, I had just come here to play cards.

We rolled back up into his driveway and there were significantly more cars there now. We walked in and it was going to be a 7-handed game, same stakes as before (25-50), minus the rock. Honestly I was not a fan of the rock in this game because it bloated the pot in an already high stakes game, and there was enough variance in PLO as it was. Also, a lot of the guys who played in the game were O8 fans, so everyone agreed on an orbit of PLO and then PLO8 alternating. I had recently been playing a lot of PLO8 on Carbon and felt my ability to play the game profitably was much better than it was even a few months before. It had been gaining popularity in the area in the past six months, and wasn't shocked when they said they wanted to play. I felt there was an edge to be had against players who overplayed low-only hands and getting quartered in PLO8 pots was a lot worse than O8. I bought it for $10k, and most people bought in between 8-15K as well. John had never told me if he had a stop loss, I think he just assumed that if you were good at poker then you never lost, which made me feel a little uneasy but I was still confident in the game. The same waitress and dealer from the first night I played here were there again, and she flirted pretty heavily with all the guys. That's what I never understood - she wasn't paid based on her service from what I could tell, and I had a feeling she knew a few of these guys a lot better than their wives wanted them to.

What began next was one of the purest runs of cards I have ever seen. In a PLO8 round I opened A299 in MP to 175 and got 3 callers, and we saw an 934 flop. When checked to me I led out for 600 and got two callers, having to play the later streets out of position. The turn brought the 10, I couldn't let this check through if I wanted to scoop. I took a stack of black and placed two on the top and slid it in in a slow movement. The guy behind me named Ames, who loved to play with a lot of chips, took four stacks of green, placed them across the line, and plopped two blacks on top. The button, who we called "Radioman" for his huge radio equipment distribution company thought for a few minutes and then said "all-in". He had bought in for 15k so he wasn't all in, and he was a calculating player, so I knew he had said that with the intention of appearing menacing. I did the Phil Hellmuth shove my stack in the middle as soon as I could and the original caller folded. Only one hand had me in bad shape - A21010dd, and I couldn't just narrow his range to one exact hand in this game. He flips over A255 for the wheel wrap, and I have to fade a high diamond or Ace and deuce for a scoop, a low diamond from getting quartered, a five chops. A saw a black paint card as my vision was getting fuzzy for being all in for what is essentially a 9.5k pot of my own equity, 19k total. I look up and a K had hit the river, giving me the scoop. Out of habit, I flipped the dealer a green chip out of second nature and it gets flipped right back.

"We pay him well, don't worry about that." I apologized and told them it was what I did at the casino and they seemed to understand. The single malt scotch was flowing and the waitress offered me a drink.

"Scotch with a splash of Amaretto please." A lot of bartenders aren't familiar with Godfathers so I just tell them. As I was stacking chips, Drew asked me if I was related to a famous author, as our last names were the same and somewhat uncommon. I explained yes, but it was distant, but the whole table suddenly wanted to talk about books. When you get asked a lot of questions at the table you can get distracted, and I accidentally folded A2K10ddss to a single raise. I have no idea how it happened but too much was going on at once.

Less than an hour later, Radioman was down around $4.5K and opened up UTG and I looked at AA25 and 3-bet to $600 to try and play this hand bloated up in position. It folded around to Radio and he potted it, committing himself to the hand. There was no need to posture, I took too stacks of black and pinched them between my thumb and index and placed them in to cover him and he called with a heavy look on his face.

"I have Aces with no low kid, you probably have me," as he flipped over AAKQ. With a low flop I was a favorite to take 3/4. The board ran out a beautiful 78910J but this isn't holdem - clubs were being good to me. The worst part was he couldn't see that well, and thought they were spades on the board and he had hit a straight for a scoop.

Up until this point, I had just been a guy that was invited to come play with the 1% as a favor for John and to them - I was the alternate. Now, I had visibly shaken the confidence of multiple successful businessmen. I would imagine 10-20K would not affect their life status, and I am sure it didn't, but they felt a loss of power, a vulnerability there at the game. I always remember the saying poker was an equal playing field where the average Joe could play the pro. Here I felt we were doing business and I was out-doing the businessmen. I was, at the very least, getting very lucky and was loving the evening. The frustration cooled down and everyone was off tilt for the second half of the evening.

Around 1230, you could tell a lot of these guys were getting too tired to play, there was a lot of limping, and I tagged along, as they were willing to go broke in limped pots. I limped a 9910J UTG in the PLO round with about a 23K stack and with 3 other players, we saw a 469 flop. I was immediately upset that I was playing in lockdown as this was a auto raise for most players. I checked hoping to take down the pot with a check raise. Someone I will call "The Don" for his dress style and his socio-political status made it 200 to which I quickly made it 800. It folded around to him, and he made a full pot raise to 3200ish. I could take a card off possibly blast him off a draw on the turn, but how many cards am I going to like? All I could think about was going broke in a limped pot, but that was when you didn't have the nuts. I HAD the nuts. I felt that impending doom where you had to play for stacks knowing it was going to be a coinflip. I had him well covered but it was still about 5k of my own equity on the line. I raised enough to put him nearly all in for 10500 and he moved all his chips forward and I called. He flipped over what was probably the worst hand for me to see - 57810 for a full wrap, blocked my backdoor diamonds, and a very live flush draw. If this were a casino I would run this twice all day, but this guy could care less. "I gotcha!" He said, but he then realized he didn't have a straight yet. He still was a statistical favorite (I believe) with two cards to come. I couldn't watch, so I just looked down pretending I was on my phone. I saw a black card roll off - it was a and I looked forward. It was the 6 though giving me a boat and drawing him down to 1 out. God, please don't one out me at this game, I could hear the oohs and aahs from the other guys, they loved this action, even if they were losing. I saw a red card peel off on the river and I was trying my hardest not to show any emotion on winning an almost 27K pot - the largest of my life. The Don shook my hand - I think he did it out of respect, and the fact that I gave him the action, the adrenaline rush he wanted. Sitting behind a big wooden desk being the boss didn't give him the action he wanted - this is what he lived for.

At the end of the night, everyone shook my hand - it was almost as if they had seen me as their entertainment for the night. They were aware of my arrangement with Big John and cut me out $13k + in 100s my take of my 37K stack minus the buyin and half the profits. I was actually one of the last to leave because Drew had to go to his safe and get the money.

"Liam, I hope you come back soon, these guys really like to play with you. You're a funny guy, you know that?" I wanted to break out the Goodfellas scene and pretend I was Joe Pesci, but I didn't know if Drew would find that funny or get the joke, and I certainly wanted to be invited back. I gave him my number, said my goodbyes, and headed out to the car.

I just realized that having this kind of cash on you in a car like this was just screaming drug dealer, and stuck out like a sore thumb on the island. I started getting all paranoid and drove under the speed limit until I got to the bridge. I pulled over to the parking area right after and got out, sat on the back of the car and texted John the good news. After that session I felt like The Don for a bit, and my comfort level playing at those stakes had definitely risen. "Rat-a-tat-tat" on The Chronic came on and I felt that the song was well suited for the way the night went down. I started to smile as I remembered the BBV thread where the guy said he murdered 9 players in a SNG back in 2009, and I laughed to myself. These were not pros, but they were wealthy characters that were used to coming out on top. For a few nights a year, I was the one who could say I had come out as the dominating force. I headed to a late night Taco Bell, bought half the menu, and showed up to the condo with Nicole fast asleep. I woke her up and showed her I got her favorite - Mexican Pizza and she woke up as I smacked her across the face with the 10k brick. I stayed up all night texting people about the game, they had no idea I had been playing there and couldn't believe it. I couldn't either, but the brick reminded me very easily that I had come out a winner for the third session in a row.