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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