This post title is a direct quote from one of my travelling companions on my last Vegas excursion. And I edited the c-word since it is almost as ugly to read in print as it is to hear. The crazy part is that if he had punched the dude (yes he used the c-word to describe a guy) in the throat, most blackjack players would have called it justified based on the scenario I’ll describe for you here.
To set the scene, me and two friends were early into day 2 of a 48 hour drinking and blackjack binge and had decided to start out at Treasure Island since none of us had been there before. One of our crew was stuck on work conference calls so two of us found a $15 table, a stunningly exotic cocktail waitress, and started our day.
The table we chose had a vanilla looking couple who were probably in from Missouri or Oklahoma. We took up positions at 1st and 2nd base with the guy to my left and his wife anchoring the table at 3rd base. The play started out without any noticeable issues, the wife was doing better than the future-c-word husband, and the good guys were floating around even.
Then the first warning bell rang. The wife just sits out two random hands. No reason, no run of bad cards, not the start of a new shoe, no explanation, just decides to sit and watch for a couple of hands. Okay, everyone is a bit different in how they play and my buddy is up a few bucks so we keep going.
Then a big red flag goes up. The c-word-to-be stands on a 14 against the dealer’s 9. Are you f-ing kidding me. His wife takes a card, gets a King and busts, the dealer turns over a 6 and gets a 5 which beats the entire table. I’ve now raised this guy to d-bag status – he definitely isn’t counting cards and he didn’t give anyone an explanation or even apologize. I’m good with everyone playing their own game, but if you are playing at a $15 table with several people you better have a good reason for not making a basic play.
Two hands later the air horn sounds. This bouche pulls the same basic crap of staying on a hit hand with the dealer holding a strong up card and to add insult to injury this time he wins while his wife took a bust card. So not only is he an ass he doesn’t mind tanking his wife in the process.
I immediately pick up my remaining chips and take off. My buddy saw it as well, but he was winning and didn’t immediately take offense so he decided to stay. This is when I took my talents to the $50 table and quickly turned my fortunes around to a nice afternoon payday, but that’s not relevant to this story other than to make me feel better about the experience.
Back to the c–t. 15 minutes later my buddy joins me at my table after being cleaned out. This happens and at first he is a little ticked at his change in fortunes, but as he starts to talk about the situation it becomes clear that this was more than just a bad run. He begins to realize how bad the Missoklahoma dude was and how much his terrible play hurt his chances for winning.
The slow burn started to bubble into a boil as the more we discussed, the more it became clear that one bad player had tanked the table. My buddy has less experience at the tables than I do and this was his first run-in with a truly horrendous player.
Our third friend finished his work calls, joined us, the exotic cocktail waitress brought us a round and that is when the lightbulb went off in my buddy’s head. ‘That guy doesn’t deserve to sit in a casino, he is a horrible human being.’ We laugh and drink and then the line of the weekend…’I’m going to punch that c–t in the throat!’
With that we knew that no matter how many times the waitress returned it wouldn’t make TI any better so we grabbed our drinks and headed down the strip to put some distance between us and worst player we’d meet this trip.