The poker room was crowded, more so than any other part of the casino. The tables were full of men and occasional women at the felt with chips between their fingers. The line when out the door. I signed my name in and went to stand beside a ringing slot machine and wait to be called. I felt good. I felt ready and bustling in my insides. I flagged a waitress down and ordered another drink. One became two became three by the time they’d called me over the speaker, so that at first I didn’t hear my name. They’d already gone on about to give my seat to some big boy with a Raiders cap on when I came hustling up, a spill stain on my shirt.
“Barely made it,” she said. “You ready?”
I was. I told her so. She took me to a table full of guys crammed in around it. “This is a must move table,” she said. “So you know.”
I told her okay. I sat down with my new chips. The eyes at the table looked at me blankly, taking me in. I nodded at a couple, put my head down.
I was ready to play poker for the first time not in jail. I couldn’t get that satisfaction playing poker online.
