An afternoon on the Flight #2 floor

Every tendon, every muscle in every back in this room has tensed up, in the words of Seinfeld's J. Peterman, "into one giant monkey-fist."

By the end of level two today, the dozens of dealers here had been dealing for three straight days.


Meg Patrick, dealer coordinator and resident mother-figure to all the dealers, tranformed herself into stretch coordinator for five minutes, taking her dealers through a routine designed to unclench the monkey-fists and restore her dealers to relative loose-ness.

Former Foxwood's dealer, Susan, participated along with the rest of the crew. I can't gauge the how loose they are now, but I feel better for just having watched. I'm going to have to ask Meg if I can get in on the next routine.

I spent the afternoon on the floor tracking the chips as they moved from player to player. The early-afternoon care had not vanished completely, but there was some evidence the players were starting to loosen up a bit. Maybe the stretch routine had something to do with that.

Table 14

The ten-seat eyed his table. "Level 3 is the quiet level," he said. Negreanu had been stacking up at the table, showing down good hands, and the action had started to dry up a little.


It had gotten so quiet that pro player, Yosh Nakano had started a project at the table. At first I thought he might be taking notes on the players. Then I looked closer. Surely not, I thought. I mean, the action had died down some, but the table hadn't died.

Sure enough, upon closer inspection, I discovered Yosh was filling out postcards to send back home. . I considered asking if he'd take the time to send one to my wife, kid, and family back home. I certainly didn't have the time. About the time I thought to ask, he got involved in a hand and I decided it was probably best to leave him alone.

Still, I continued to watch the table as Negreanu got involved in a raised pot with one other player. The board showed AKx with two diamonds after the flop. Both players checked. Another diamond fell on the turn and Negreanu bet the pot, forcing his opponent to lay down his hand.

With something resembling glee, Negreanu flipped up 23o and giggled, "Three-high."

The table took with good spirits, and Negreanu's eventual explanation was unnecessary.

"I've been showing the nuts too many times," he said. "Okay, that's my bluff for the day."

Table 3

Gavin Griffen, made famous in a broadcast of a WSOP tournament last year, was having a pretty good day and had amassed a few chips. I eavesdropped on some of his tablemates as they discussed his play.

A railbird said, "this guy thinks he's a pro but he's giving away all his chips."

I remembered Griffen's play from the WSOP, hyper-agressive to the point that his opponents got nervous when he limped into a pot.

I'd actually come over to the table to take a picture of Mr. Funny Hat (I never got his name). He'd found a way to turn a cowboy hat into a visor and that was fashion I had to document.

As I started watching, he got involved in a hand with Griffen. The flop came down 623 with two spades. Mr. Funny Hat bet into Griffen. Griffen cold-called. The turn was a four of diamonds.

Mr. Funny Hat checked to Griffen who put Funny Hat all in.

They tabled their hands. Funny hat had 22 for a set. Griffen turned up 55 for a turned straight.


Gavin Griffen all smiles

Table Ten

Josh Arieh was down to four hundred chips from his original 10,000 stack. I don't know how he got there. It happened fast. And by the time I got back to his table, he'd somehow rebuilt his stack to almost 9000. I was amazed, and frankly, impressed that he'd rebuilt so much so fast.

With the blinds at 100/200, an early-position player raised to around 1200. Arieh re-raised immediately, making it 2500.

The nine-seat thought for a moment or two and announced all-in.

The blinds folded, as did the first raiser.

Arieh went in the tank. And started talking.

"I've laid this hand down once before in my whole life," he said.

He might as well have said, "I'm holding kings over here."

He put his fingers on his cards in a familiar "I'm about to muck" motion, then eyed his opponent. He must have seen something, because he put his chips back on his cards and thought some more.

He said something about hating to call dead after building back from 400. A valid concern, I suppose. After a raise, and a re-raise, it seemed likely his opponent had aces.

Finally, Arieh mucked, flipping his cards up. A king hit the table as another card fluttered into a player's lap. I didn't have to see it. I knew it was a king.

I was hoping his opponent would turn up aces, just so I could tell the story as I predicted it.

His opponent, Steve (aka ackbleh), tabled his hand.

Queens.

I don't think I made too much of a noise, but I have to imagine the sound in Arieh's head sounded like Atlanta traffic at 4:30pm on Friday afternoon.

Later, I ran into "ackbleh" and asked him about the hand.

Humbly, he said, "Don't make me sound smart. I didn't have him on kings."

***

There are still more than 180 players left in Flight #2. And I just watched a guy call a 4000 all-in bet with a heart flush on the board, one card to come, no hearts in a his hand, and no more than an inside straight draw and a over-card. If his opponent had the flush, he was drawing dead. If not, he had seven outs (if his opponent wasn't on a flush draw).

Yeah, he hit his gutter.

Poker is quite a game.