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| Post Poker Luncheon |
TO: Laurie and Hai,
Our fabulous house minders
FROM: Stan
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How's everything in Minnesota? I see Einar is offering an All-You-Can-Eat Crab Dinner for $25 at Stonebrooke. Heckuva deal.
-
I drove your poker pal, St. Paul Katie, through a maze of freeways to the Commerce Casino this morning, and dropped her off at the valet high-roller entrance, figuring I would hang out in the nearby City of Commerce for a few hours while she earned us a big steak dinner.
Birdie and I found a dandy park in the middle of town. Nice and green, happy people and kids hanging out in the sun. A tidy walk-up snack window run by the city. There's a huge "Aquatorium" for swimming and exercise workout machines positioned all around the park.
I split a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with Rex from Covina. He's a 59-year-old homeless guy who was sleeping this forenoon in the park. Birdie strained to sniff his bare feet as he lay snoozing on the lawn, but I wouldn't allow it; gave her a firm jerk on the leash. Eventually, Rex arose and we struck up a conversation as I waited for my sandwich, seated on the picnic table near the walk-up window. When my sandwich came, he admired it and politely mentioned that he'd like to order a sandwich too, but couldn't afford one. Hadn't eaten for two days.
He's an Army Vet and a little screwed up, my Brother-at-Arms; but he loves dogs and we spent a lively mid-day talking old times and watching the shirtless boys play flag football on green green grass. I mistakenly figured I had plenty of time to make a picture of him amidst this gorgeous setting, he in a baseball cap and camouflage greatcoat with a full-length red/brown beard and no front teeth.
"If I knew I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself," he confided with a wry, toothless grin.
The camera was still in the car but Birdie was still frisky, mixing it up with some pre-schoolers. The picture could wait.
Unexpectedly, my phone rang. It was St. Paul Katie calling from the casino. She was quite ready to go, she said, in a voice that foreshadowed the story. Which was my clue that we probably wouldn't be eating steak on her tablemates' tab tonight.
I quickly loaded Birdie into the car and headed back to our meeting point at the valet entrance at the casino and there she was, still smiling, but barely. No cards, no cards, she explained -- and she didn't like the way the guys were playing, either. They just weren't serious players, she said, stacks of chips and they'd bet on just about anything, even a 2/7 nothing hand.
She was disgusted, still had money to bet, but chose not to continue and said she didn't ever have to come back to The Commerce. And besides, she hadn't spotted any WPT celebrities either. (No Phil, no Mike, no Daniel, no Annie) Bummer. Okay. Okay. We are so out of here.
On the way home, we stopped at a highly-recommended Coffee Shop in a trendy part of the Silver Lake area where we are looking at some possible future places to stay. They advertised free wi-fi and we wanted a snack, something to eat. No coffee.
Well, we found comfortable seats in a rather ordinary room, between a parking lot and a busy street. Then I couldn't get connected to the wifi -- they wanted passwords and other razz-muh-tazz that I just couldn't understand. Worse, it would have cost $50 for a snack -- if you can abide lentil soup. So Stan ordered the $6 coffee, Katie got a $4.50 iced tea and we split a $2.50 cookie.
We got out for $15; grateful, because the light snack we wanted would have been $50.
Still hungry, we pulled into the McCafe on Sunset near Fountain, laughing at ourselves, and shaking our heads. We know who we are, apparently. We found a shady spot in the lot for Birdie's kennel nap, went inside and dropped $10 at the counter for two beefy meals. The wifi connected immediately, no password needed, and it's a powerful connection. We're using it now to post this.
So here we sit (see photo), beaten at the casino table, beaten at the coffee table, but happy to be full and alive, and thinking of you and all the great friends we have back home.
Thank you so much for minding the store in our absence. See you soon.
Stan
(We're also following the day's news from Minneapolis: A People's Stadium revealed . . . and, in Apple Valley, a drunken Zamboni driver, again.)
I split a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with Rex from Covina. He's a 59-year-old homeless guy who was sleeping this forenoon in the park. Birdie strained to sniff his bare feet as he lay snoozing on the lawn, but I wouldn't allow it; gave her a firm jerk on the leash. Eventually, Rex arose and we struck up a conversation as I waited for my sandwich, seated on the picnic table near the walk-up window. When my sandwich came, he admired it and politely mentioned that he'd like to order a sandwich too, but couldn't afford one. Hadn't eaten for two days.
He's an Army Vet and a little screwed up, my Brother-at-Arms; but he loves dogs and we spent a lively mid-day talking old times and watching the shirtless boys play flag football on green green grass. I mistakenly figured I had plenty of time to make a picture of him amidst this gorgeous setting, he in a baseball cap and camouflage greatcoat with a full-length red/brown beard and no front teeth.
"If I knew I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself," he confided with a wry, toothless grin.
The camera was still in the car but Birdie was still frisky, mixing it up with some pre-schoolers. The picture could wait.
I quickly loaded Birdie into the car and headed back to our meeting point at the valet entrance at the casino and there she was, still smiling, but barely. No cards, no cards, she explained -- and she didn't like the way the guys were playing, either. They just weren't serious players, she said, stacks of chips and they'd bet on just about anything, even a 2/7 nothing hand.
She was disgusted, still had money to bet, but chose not to continue and said she didn't ever have to come back to The Commerce. And besides, she hadn't spotted any WPT celebrities either. (No Phil, no Mike, no Daniel, no Annie) Bummer. Okay. Okay. We are so out of here.
On the way home, we stopped at a highly-recommended Coffee Shop in a trendy part of the Silver Lake area where we are looking at some possible future places to stay. They advertised free wi-fi and we wanted a snack, something to eat. No coffee.
Well, we found comfortable seats in a rather ordinary room, between a parking lot and a busy street. Then I couldn't get connected to the wifi -- they wanted passwords and other razz-muh-tazz that I just couldn't understand. Worse, it would have cost $50 for a snack -- if you can abide lentil soup. So Stan ordered the $6 coffee, Katie got a $4.50 iced tea and we split a $2.50 cookie.
We got out for $15; grateful, because the light snack we wanted would have been $50.
Still hungry, we pulled into the McCafe on Sunset near Fountain, laughing at ourselves, and shaking our heads. We know who we are, apparently. We found a shady spot in the lot for Birdie's kennel nap, went inside and dropped $10 at the counter for two beefy meals. The wifi connected immediately, no password needed, and it's a powerful connection. We're using it now to post this.
So here we sit (see photo), beaten at the casino table, beaten at the coffee table, but happy to be full and alive, and thinking of you and all the great friends we have back home.
Thank you so much for minding the store in our absence. See you soon.
Stan
(We're also following the day's news from Minneapolis: A People's Stadium revealed . . . and, in Apple Valley, a drunken Zamboni driver, again.)
