Sunday, August 11, 2013

What's Your Shoe Size?

(This is the second part to my previous post, which you can find below or here.  It continues right where we left off, with Melody's answer to Kent's immortal question....)

And then, out of the clear blue, he shouted across the table, “Melody, what’s your shoe size?”

It was such an awesome non-sequitur that I just started cracking up.  Everyone at the table did, including Melody, who kind of looked at him with a “WTF” look on her face.
But Melody was nothing if not quick on her feet.  Instead of giving the answer, she almost immediately responded with, “Wouldn’t it be much more relevant for me to ask you your shoe size?”  Yes, we all knew what she meant by that and we all had a good laugh about it.
Kent did reveal his shoe size, saying he wore a 10-1/2.
This led to a discussion of the differences between mens shoe sizes and ladies shoe sizes.  And then Melody started comparing her foot to the guy sitting next to her, Sarah’s husband.  Sarah didn’t seem to mind that her husband was basically playing footsie with Melody.
This incident took place on a Saturday night, the day of the Kentucky Derby and also the evening of a big fight that was held right in the MGM.  By mid to late evening the MGM was absolutely packed.  Between the fight crowd and the crowd gathering for the club, it really seemed like everyone in the free world walked by us that night.  They had removed a bunch of tables from the MGM poker room when the club opened to make way for the crowd.  Unfortunately, based on the design of the club, the poker room itself was a major walkway for people to get from one line of the club to the other.  Every table in the poker room was in use and there were long lists.  And there was absolute constant stream of people walking right by us as we tried to play poker.
A lot of the people were just there for the casino, or the fight.  But there were tons of people going to the club (or at least, trying to get into it), almost all of them young girls wearing almost no clothing, as I described in the Slut Parade post.  To say this was a distraction would be a tremendous understatement.
Now of course all the guys were distracted.  But even the women were distracted, especially Melody.  It wasn’t just the mass of humanity traipsing through the room that was diverting Melody.  It was the very same girls that were distracting us guys.  She was telling Sarah how distracting she found the girls, and she couldn’t stop looking at the girls, either.
Now, Melody didn’t exactly have the same interest in the girls that the guys did, but she was clearly staring at them all.  I guess part of it was some of the fashion choices the girls had made.
Not that Melody was a prude, but I think she felt that some of those skirts were just a little too short, and that some of those dresses were just a little too tight, and that some of that cleavage was somehow inappropriate  (although, as I discussed here, it is impossible for any cleavage to be inappropriate).  In particular, I think she felt that some of the girls didn’t really have the figures necessary to be wearing a particular outfit.  Melody was not a skinny girl, but I think she felt the girls with not too dissimilar figures from her own were stretching the bounds of good taste—not to mention the fabric—by wearing some of the outfits.  I guess you could say she was being a bit “catty.”
She mentioned an outfit she saw that I didn’t see—dammit—where a gal was wearing a bustier type of outfit with “cut-outs” and there was no underwear….she made it sound like the girl’s butt was completely exposed.  She must have been exaggerating, right?  Right?
But it wasn’t just the skimpiness of the outfits that was bothering her.  Some of the girls—and for that matter, the guys too—were wearing some really outrageous outfits, sexy or otherwise.  I’ve heard it said that in Vegas, every night is Halloween, and there was no shortage of odd, bizarre outfits on this night.  One girl was wearing an outfit that consisted mostly of feathers.  And she was not a showgirl. Melody was shaking her head at the outfit and I asked her if she thought the girl had lost a bet.  She laughed and said it was possible.   So she was commenting on some of those type of fashion choices as well.  I’m sorry I can’t report more on the type of bizarre outfits that came through the poker room.  Oddly enough, it was mostly the girls in the really revealing outfits that really caught my attention.
But we did see a bunch of guys walk through the room wearing kilts.  Actually, I’d say I’ve seen guys wearing kilts in Vegas quite a number of times.  I don’t think they’ve all been Scotsmen, necessarily.  I pointed this out to the dealer and he asked me, “Do you know why you always see guys wearing kilts in large groups?”  I didn’t know so he said, “So they don’t get the shit beaten out of them.”
A few minutes later a group of girls with especially short dresses walked right by.  I’m sure those skirts covered their navels but just barely.  So I said to this same dealer, “You know, those guys in the kilts had by far the longest dresses of anyone whose walked through here tonight.”  He laughingly agreed.
Melody seem obsessed with the outfits the girls were wearing.  She said at one point that you sometimes see girls dress almost as sluttily (back home, I guess, wherever that was) when they’re with the parents (really???) and she looks at the parents and wonders wonder what the hell they’re thinking.  Then she said, if she had a daughter, she’d keep her chained to her bed until she was 18.
At one point, a really hot Asian girl pulled up a chair at the table behind us.  She was wearing an outfit that overqualified her for the club.  I guess you could say she was almost wearing her outfit.  But she wasn’t playing.  She was sitting behind her boyfriend who was playing.  She got everyone’s attention because she was definitely the hottest girl who hadn’t just walked through the poker room but had actually stayed.  Of course Kent starting flirting with her.
She was fairly friendly with him, and apparently she found talking to him more interesting than watching her boyfriend play poker.  So it wasn’t long before Kent asked the now magic question, “What’s your shoe size?”

Instead of answering verbally, she held up six fingers and then whispered, “and a half.”
Kent thought that was interesting.  “Six and a half, huh?  You know, I’ve never met a woman with a size 8 shoe.  That’s the one size I’ve never encountered.”  He kind of said it as if a woman with a size 8 shoe was the sine qua non for him.
A male dealer noticed Kent talking to the girl behind him and realized he was hitting on (sort of) another guy’s girl.  He said to me—and Kent, I guess—that if he was that guy, he would have put a stop to that right away.  He said, “I'd say something like, ‘Don’t say another word to my lady, sir.  You’re too handsome.’”  I’m not sure if Kent even heard this.  The thing was, the boyfriend was really intently concentrating on the game, but I’m sure he saw what was going on and realized that Kent was just a harmless old fart—and completely drunk.
Kent was distracted away from her because he was playing poker (somewhat) and also because he was talking to any other woman who walked by who would acknowledge his greetings and comments.  So at one point he turned back around to talk to the Asian girl and was surprised to see she and her boyfriend had left.  He seemed genuinely hurt that she left without saying goodbye.
Most of the girls he spoke to as they walked by either ignored him or said “hi” back to him but kept walking.  But one woman did stop and talk to him.  She wasn’t really dressed for the club, she was a little older and conservatively dressed.  Once she stopped to talk to him, he asked her the age old question, “What’s your shoe size?”  And without missing a beat, she answered back, “That’s a question I should be asking you.”  Apparently he told her that he was a size 7!  And so she said, “Oh, that’s not good.  You need to say it’s a size 11.”
Kent asked the woman what she did and she replied that she was a stay-at-home mom to three kids.  So he asked if her husband was here with her.  “No, I left him at home with the kids.  I’m here with my mom.  She’s a cougar.”
Well, it turned out that her mom was right nearby and heard this and came running over and said to her daughter, “Don’t tell people I’m a f***ing cougar!  I’m not a f***ing cougar!”  
Then one of the club girls walked by and he stopped her by asking if he could ask her a question.  She said ok and I was expecting the shoe size question.  But he fooled me.  He asked her, “What kind of mascara do you use?”  She was certainly not expecting that question and was rather speechless.  So he continued, “Is it Maybelline?”  She thought about it a few seconds and agreed that it was.
Between the fact that he was totally smashed and the fact that he was having all these conversations while try to play poker, he started really slowing up the game for awhile, especially when he was talking to the Asian gal.  The dealers had to constantly tell him it was his turn to act.  Ordinarily, this would have annoyed me but I was having too much fun listening to him.  But I took it on myself to help the dealers out by getting his attention as soon as the action was on him.  But since there were some other distractions, ahem, in the room, I didn’t always remind him in time and the dealers would have to.  He actually got a little annoyed when the dealer would interrupt his conversation to tell him it was his turn.
“Hey, you’re cutting into my action, here,” he said to one female dealer.  Then a bit later he said to her, “You’re really starting to annoy me.  You’re getting to be a pain.”
To which the dealer replied, “Yeah.  I can’t say that to you.”
I thought that was one of the most brilliant, subtle put-downs I’d ever heard and started laughing.  My reaction made her a little nervous and she quickly said to me, “Oh, he’s one of my favorites.”  Not to worry.  I’m not sure if Kent even heard it and I thought she deserved a bigger tip because of it.
I guess I should get back to the poker, so I’ll mention just two more hands. In the cut-off seat I had King-4 of diamonds and somehow found a reason to limp—don’t ask me why.  Flop came 7-6-3 with one diamond.  I called a $10 bet with my gut shot, and three of us saw the turn, which was a Jack of diamonds, giving me the flush draw to go with my gut shot.  This time nobody bet.  The Ace of diamonds hit the river giving me the nuts.  I bet $15 and even got a caller. Poker is an easy game. 
There was a guy there who had served in the military in the Bomb Squad, probably the most dangerous job on the planet, and one of the most important.  He raised to $6 and two called.  I looked down at pocket Aces in late position so I make it $30. Only the Bomb Squad guy called.  He should have just shoved because after he called me he only had $24 left.  The flop was Jack high, he checked, I put him all in and he called.  I don’t remember the board but he saw my Aces and just folded face down.  Because of his service to our country, when I said, “Sorry” to him, I really did kind of mean it.  I also thanked him for his service as he left.
Actually, the big hand from this night has already been blogged about (see here).  After that hand, I went basically card dead for the rest of the evening. By this time, both Kent and the ladies he was talking to were now so distracting that it was pretty hard to concentrate on the game.  It was certainly difficult for me to consider playing anything other than ABC poker.  And so, not getting any hands to play was almost a relief.  When I finally cashed out, I had a nice profit to show for long session.
As for Kent, he was still there when I left, still downing Scotches as if they were waters.  He was still hitting his hands too, he had about $800 in front of him, not bad considering all the drinking and all the time he spent “hitting” on the young ladies.  The next night I ran into one of the players who had been at the table with us for much of the evening, and who was still there when I left.  I asked him about Kent.  He told me he was still there when he left at about 2:30 in the morning, still downing Scotches, still hitting his hands!  And yes, still hitting on the young ladies.
Quite a character, Kent was.

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