St. Paul Katie took the house down last night in No Stakes Texas Hold 'Em poker in the backroom of a saloon in a dusty Arizona town north of Tucson.
"This is No Country For Old Men," the diminutive Shakopee grandmother said, defiantly stacking her chips at the final table. "Deal!"
Bluffing when she had no cards, and pressing opponents hard when she did, her aggressive play defeated player after player, in a withering combination of deceit and common sense.
Cold night winds were blowing off the Catalina desert, whistling through cracks in the Lariat Steakhouse and Saloon, chilling patrons and the lightly-dressed St. Paul Katie. She resolved to depart early, her hands, body and tip of her nose suffering in a stark contrast to the heated table action. But after winning the first tournament, etiquette requires the champion to remain as a fresh target for the roomful of losers. A restroom retreat to warm up gave no relief: the Lariat's single tap doused ice cold water on her winning, yet frozen, hands.
Mercifully, pocket shady ladies and bad luck in the second round resulted in Katie's eventual return to the warmth of her Saddlebrooke home, where the Press Corps, which rarely accompanies her to these events, was preoccupied with Super Tuesday and the Obama Phenoma, thereby missing the big story of the night.
