Shut Up and Deal

If it's Saturday afternoon, it's time for poker in this amusing look at a low-stakes poker club.

| April/May 1995

I speak, of course, of the Saturday afternoon low-stakes poker game I look forward to with feverish anticipation. After all, I can't belong to the Garden Club on account of my lack of a green thumb. And I can't zip down to the local karaoke bar and do the hokey-pokey and sing "Yankee Doodle Dandy" because, there isn't any local karaoke bar.

So I play poker.

I live in CreekSide Village, although it would be more accurate to call it CreakySide Village. It is one of those 55-and-over communities that punctuate the landscape from California to Florida by way of Arizona. CreekSide is south of Temelec, another 55-and-over enclave, and west of Chantarelle. I scarcely dare mention Seven Flags and Country Meadows. We're surrounded.

In the poker game, then, we are all 55 and over. Mostly way over, and a little to one side.

Usually eight of us play, six geezers and two geezettes. On occasion we're more than eight and we have to decide how to split up into two tables. This results in arguments of unbelievable stridency and volume, and it delays the game for, I've timed it, as much as 21 minutes.

Damn! I could win $2.21 in those 21 minutes if I hit a lucky streak.

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