FULL TILT POKER BLOG

#846 – 2009 WSOP Revisted #8 – Full Moon Fever, or, Further Tales from the Undisclosed Location

Posted by Editor | Filed under Uncategorized

Within a few days of the start of the World Series, Uncle Tilty came through and provided Shauna and me with an excellent work space. We had a long work table, comfortable chairs, and extension cords and power strips for all our computing needs. When you add the food and drink service and constant access to most of Full Tilt’s 170+ red pros, it was an ideal set up.

Almost too good.

The first problem was that this arrangement robbed me of an excellent excuse slack off. I had worked myself into a state of righteous indignation. I could have gone home for a few days, or worked two hours a day, or reposted my old World Series blogs in protest. So Uncle Tilty goes and does the most underhanded thing possible: he gave me everything I asked for. It was for that reason – and maybe that reason alone – I made 94 posts during the Series, and posted everyday but one between May 27 and July 15.

Another controversial aspect of the work-space was its placement in the suite. To have access to a power source and not completely mess up the night-club/bat-cave ambiance, the only place to set up our work table was adjacent to the entrance. Full Tilt had a sentry posted outside the door to make sure only the right people got in, but our location made us the second line of defense against any weirdos, con artists, and misfits who made it this far.

This was compounded by Uncle Tilty having about two million friends, which meant every Tom, Dick & Antonius could legitimately claim access. My own record for stupidly blowing off or insulting people before figuring out who they were is awful. Consequently, this responsibility scared the bejeezus out of me.

For instance, some people who I initially thought were unauthorized freeloaders turned out to be important and/or fascinating people. Scott and Jim turned out to be both important and fascinating. Scott is a deputy with the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department. He is a friend of Uncle Tilty as well as a hard-working volunteer for FallenHerosLA.org, an LACSD charity that provides financial support for the families of law enforcement officers and firefighters that die in the line of duty. It is an extremely worthwhile charity and you can expect to hear more from me about their annual charity poker tournament, which will be held at the Bicycle Club on February 19, 2010.

I think enough of this charity that I’m considering donating to their auction one of my most cherished stolen items from poker. And that’s not just because I’m hoping that Scott will reward me with one of those stickers to put on my car so the police will let me speed and stuff – if such stickers exist, which everyone has thus far denied. (Yes, I am aware of the irony of seeking preferential police treatment in exchange for donating stolen property. So just keep your mouth shut, okay?)

Scott was at the World Series that day with his friend Jim. Jim is a nice guy and an avid poker player, and I also learned that day that he was part of one of TV poker’s most famous hands. Remember that time in the Main Event a few years ago when Phil Hellmuth went apeshit-crazy over losing a hand and said to his opponent, “You don’t even know how to spell poker”? Jim is that guy! He was very good-natured about the whole incident and even the bit of poker notoriety he got from it but as tight as he is with Scott and the Fallen Heroes Fund, Hellmuth might want to consider cleaning up histable behavior or watching out for cops when he’s in LA County.

Much more often, however, Shauna and I were treated like employees of the DMV. The worst one was Kevin though there were plenty like him. Kevin wandered in during a break in one of the big-field weekend events, when the suite was packed. He claimed to be a friend and poker buddy of Uncle Tilty from Los Angeles. He had an admission pass so who was I to question him? Granted, he looked like the guy you usually never notice until his face shows up on the local news, referred to repeatedly as “the suspect,” the scoutmaster with no children and the rusty camper parked on the side of his house.

It is hard for me to describe how much Kevin made my skin crawl. He was carrying an oddly-shaped knapsack with a big oil stain at the bottom. He was wearing a Full Tilt patch that clearly appeared to have been used numerous times, if not torn off the chest of some red pro. And he had ZERO concept of personal space. After the break ended, the suite emptied out, until it was just me and Shauna.

And Kevin.

Shauna went to get a drink from the beverage table and Kevin followed her. He was so close behind that if he got any closer, Shauna would have been behind him. And this room was HUGE and empty. And the guy didn’t even get anything to drink.

When he first came into the suite, he approached us at our work table while we were talking with Scott Fischman. I had just introduced Scott to Shauna and Scott pulled up a chair right next to me in the crowded room. This Kevin dude singled out Shauna, leaning over the table in front of her and asked, “Could you tell me where I could find Scott Fishman?” He then held up a picture of Scott and a Sharpie.

I said, “he’s here” and pointed two feet to my right. He asked Scott to sign a playing card from a set with the likenesses of famous poker players. Scott graciously obliged, saying, “Aren’t these four or five years old?”

Kevin replied, “Yeah. Looks like you put on a lot of weight since then.” I thought that was extremely rude but said nothing, figuring the guy was (a) mentally unhinged, (b) packing heat, or (c) both.

Kevin was following some mental road map in which he would wander from person to person and room to room, leave the suite for awhile and then return and repeat. Because we were next to the door, Kevin must have saved us as Favorite Locations on his crazy-person navigation system. At one point, he came up next to me, looked over my shoulder (which is difficult because I was behind the table, against the wall) and asked, “So, you playing online poker there?” Without looking up from my tournament, I said, “No. That would be illegal,” and continued playing. But he would not take the hint.

Much later in the day, when the suite was sparsely populated and Karina Jett was in a conversation nearby, Kevin came up to me yet again, and asked, “Is that Karina Jett over there?”

Without looking up – because I read somewhere that it’s a bad idea to make eye contact with psychopaths – I said no. “Really?” he asked suspiciously. “Because it looks just like her.”

“She gets that a lot,” I said, still keeping my head down. “But it’s not her.” Instead of pulling out his Glock 9 and blowing me, Karina Jett, and/or Shauna away, he accepted the explanation and disappeared from our lives.

When I left the Undisclosed Location late that night, I was unsurprised to see the full moon. It was actually kind of a relief, providing me enough light to get to my car without worrying about Kevin and his oil-stained knapsack lurking in the shadows.

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