SCANDAL in HAMMOND! (and the newly discovered REASON!)

It has happened again.

I know how much several of you have been waiting for this post. Some...are the rubber-neckers who slow down at accident scenes. Then you have your 2+2 Forum Dorks...who love to propagate scandal. Some, shockingly, actually care...and support my efforts. To those of you, I sincerely  apologize for keeping you in suspense all afternoon and evening. I have what I think is a good excuse: Sensory overload.

I spent a full hour standing there, surrounded by 5 'goons' from the Indiana gaming commission (supposedly) who also presented themselves as police officers...all (except one guy, who I actually suspect knew I was getting set up somehow, probably gauging my extreme shock, disbelief and anger) were quick to snap back at me with condescending, threatening, smart ass remarks, designed to keep me in my place, reiterate exactly who was in charge, and making me feel that any thoughts I had that I was completely innocent, were impossible.

I'm 45 now. I've seen and experienced a lot in my life. I haven't always done everything that would be considered 'the right way.' You live and you learn. This is true, not only in life...but in poker as well (obviously). I have made a lot of enemies in this game...for whatever reason. Generally it comes (I think) from my somewhat sarcastic personality. Maybe a bit of comes from having some success. I honestly don't know, 100% why I attract the amount of  vitriol that I do. I do, however, acknowledge that I have brought a lot of strain upon my marriage by doing things that end up coming back to affect the relationship with my wife. Whether its something I write on this blog...or something that transpires at a casino, and the resulting 'spin' that results from it...it is something that her and I have talked about at great length.

Which is what has made today so completely difficult to bear. I made a commitment to her to stay out of trouble. To not drink at poker events. To not do or say certain things that draw attention to myself. I want nothing more than to make her not have to deal with the BS that seems to follow me wherever I go, whether I want it around me or not. It doesn't seem to be an option for me. Just the other day I had one of my truly good friends in poker approach me...tell me hi, and say she was defending me to her table just the day before. Told me people were saying things like "Oh yeah...that Monkey guy? He's a this, that and the other thing...." and when she asked what their problem was with me...it was generally something 'they had heard' about me. Or some incident that happened at the table 4 or 5 years ago. Mmm.. yeah, good reasons.

How do you combat that? Knowing how much I have really mellowed out...both with the prescription to Celexa that our doctor put me on, as well as what having Carley Grace and seeing life from a totally different perspective has done for my sense of purpose...I continue to face the same shit no matter what I do. No matter how much I have changed. And for those who play this game on a regular basis...I think those people have seen me change. They have noticed how I never lash out at players at the table any more. How I never berate people's bad play. I just don't. If there is ONE place that I do happen to do all those things...its right here. On my nice little 'diary' that just happens to be read by about 7500 people a month. This is where I vent. This is where I express my opinions. This is where I do my berating. Is that not healthy?

Yeah yeah...I can read your collective minds. GET TO THE GOOD STUFF MONKEY!  I'm right, aren't I? Fine. Here you go.

Saturday, as most of you know...I came back at 2pm, 26th out of 310 players in my pursuit of another ring, $110,000 and what we all (as poker players) strive for in this game...a game-changing win. My mind was right. I was coming off a great night of sleep. I was dialed in. It was a rough 5 hours. No cards. No action on the ones I rarely got...and busting with AK thinking I had caught the guy stealing...only to find he had KK. I went out around 133rd. For close to a mere dime. I spent 5 hours focused and concentrating on nothing but my opponents. After busting I got into the rebuy Mega satellite...which lasted about 7 hours...and which I ended up winning. So I guess it was what should be considered a 'good' day of poker, for the most part. No alcohol was consumed...until we made the money in the Mega...when I ordered a single Coors Light to end my night.

So, fast forward. Today...I arrive for the noon tourney at 1:15pm. I'm really struggling with this cold. So I decided to sleep a little longer today. Plus I am leery of the early rounds with these players up here. I didn't hate my decision one bit. I had doubled up by the 4th level. When I arrived...there was a line of about 20 people...and one lonely cashier behind the counter...who seemed overwhelmed and challenged by the computer. There was a general mood of irritation by all the players in the line...as it was taking 5-10 minutes for each player to get registered. I asked if there were any other cashiers available. She said yes...that she had called for more. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Security guy sitting in his chair behind the desk...and it seemed like he was glaring at me. (this is me trying to remember every possible thing to make any sense of this) Finally, another cashier arrived...and the line picked up dramatically. Sorry...but it just seems like if we are paying 21% juice on these events...it shouldn't be too much to ask for them to accommodate the players on certain matters, like this one.

So as I said...I get to my table, end up with a double up...and a couple of other good pots...and was sitting at about 23k when I was suddenly approached by a guy in a suit...from security, who asked me to step away from the table and into the lobby. In the lobby, I am surrounded by 5...you heard me...FIVE older guys...a tall one, three really short ones and an average looking guy...all in those vests that look like they are posing for an Eddie Bauer ad, or going fly fishing later, after clocking out. I was told (at first) that they were from the Indiana State police. Then later I was told they were representatives from the Indiana Gaming authority. It's been explained that the Gaming Commission there is likely a division of the police...so I guess they are both.

Well, it can safely be concluded from their smart ass, condescending remarks to everything I had to say that they were at one time cops, for sure. If you've ever been in trouble with a cop...or just in the wrong place at the wrong time and being questioned by cops...then you know that they seem to have kind of an attitude. And that attitude? If they have come to a scene where there is a 'suspect' being detained or questioned...that suspect is immediately dropped to the level of 'human vermin' in their book. Whatever they are there for...the assumption is that 'rat guy' is totally, 100% guilty of whatever they think he did.

Any logical question you ask them is answered with something you know they sat together at a donut shop crafting...waiting for that moment that they could unleash their 'killer comeback' on their victim. I know there are some really good people in the world who go into law enforcement. In fact, I know some of them personally, so for me to just say that ALL COPS ARE DICKS would be a total generalization, and unfair. Because I know it not to be true. But it does seem to go without saying that a large percentage of them just happen to be wired a certain, special way...and that way makes them very unlikable as human beings. Well these guys...or at least 4 of the 5...were total, and complete cocksuckers. Do these guys start out being good guys? And the years of hearing all the excuses, the guilty shouting to the heavens that they're innocent....the daily experiences with life's underbelly of society just sour them to the human condition as a whole? Do they just become bitter and jaded and hateful because its what the job does to them? I mean...I can kind of get that, if its the case. And you can sort of accept that...until you are THAT guy who is being subjected to their treatment. Which is what I was.

So...the guy tells me that on Saturday, during the tourney, I was 'observed' making 'harassing' comments to a female dealer. That they did an investigation...incorporating the use of 'surveillance cameras' in their investigation...and were able to conclude that I had, in fact, harassed this mystery dealer. For those who have never played at this event...it is played in a giant concert theater. The cameras are attached to scaffolding that is about 50 feet or more above the tables. They do not record sound. I will let you use your own common sense in figuring that one out. 

When I asked what I supposedly said, or who I supposedly said it to, he wouldn't tell me. In fact, he told me he didn't know. Just that he was assigned to come get me and escort me off the property. When I asked for a meeting with the person who actually made this decision, to find answers, I was told, in very condescending tone...that I could ask via letter. Via letter? Sure. Okay. That's after I have to fly home, right? No...you see, I am trying to get it fixed NOW, ideally, since I KNOW I didn't do anything that I was being accused of....so I could finish the event. No...they had no interest in assisting me in my attempts to get this situation remedied. They walk me out. After getting outside, it dawns on me that I had that voucher in my bag for the Main Event entry. I bring that to their attention. To which one of the total jagoff cops pipes up with: 

"Oh...you tell us about this NOW!?? Why didn't you tell us about that when we were still in the casino!??"

"Oh gee, you know what? I'm so sorry...I was too busy wracking my brain trying to figure out who the fuck is trying to set me up and get me thrown out of here...it really kind of slipped my mind."  [You jerkoff!]

So the guy from in-house Horseshoe Security got on his walkie-talkie and worked out a way to get it converted to cash, taking it from me...leaving me out in the parking deck with the 'Four Ass Clown Prick Posse' to wait on him to get back. He finally returned with my money...and the 6 of them walked me out to valet. Fun times.
I then waited on Claudia and Barth...both of whom had just busted...Claudia 6th in the 1k, and Barth, 12th in the Omaha. We went back to our hotel...then Barth and I went to eat...and try to make some sense of this bullshit. I went over every situation from Saturday. Every dealer. Every possible conversation. Nothing made sense. Nothing added up. I was petrified about calling my wife and telling her what had happened...knowing, that her sitting at home, and just hearing this news was going to result in her thinking the worst. And I really didn't know what to tell her, because I myself didn't even KNOW what the hell the reason was.

Finally I called her. She was, obviously, upset....having seen the posts in Facebook. La Sengphet was at my table in the noon tourney when security came and pulled me from the table...and she had to go and TWEET about it (which, for the record I'm not upset with her over)...which spread like wildfire. I told her all I knew. Let her know that I  would be home as soon as possible if I couldn't get the mess fixed. Though I'm a bit hesitant about rushing right home because I'm as sick as I've been in over a year...and don't want to get Carley Grace sick. On the way to the casino we picked up a bunch of cold and flu medicine and I've been bombarding it ever since.

I came back to my room...and with Barth and Kai and Claudia all in the room with me and just laying here...brainstorming...trying to figure out how this all happened. They were talking about Claudia's bustout...and Barth's bad run in the 2nd day of Omaha...and at some point...I just fell asleep and woke up to nobody being here. They all had left to go play cash game.

I got on my Facebook...and after reading all the curious comments posted by everyone...wondering what happened, simply posted that I was fine. Not in jail. Not dead. Nothing like that. That I had just fallen victim to something I didn't even understand at the moment. And still didn't. 

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It's now 5:45pm on Tuesday. This is a continuation. I would have posted the first part...and made this a new post...but it wouldn't quite work...because you would read this NEW post first...and never get to the SECOND post that outlined what happened. But...there has been a major break in the 'case.' Only problem? I don't think there is a solution. Not because its impossible, but because getting anything overturned with the buffoons who work in security is nearly always impossible. And at the very least...they might not even understand or believe what I am telling them. So to make myself feel better about it...I will tell you folks. Maybe...just MAYBE...someone with some influence, or some power...will make a call or two, and get this shit fixed.

As it stands right now, I have scheduled a flight out of here for tomorrow (Wednesday) at 1:55pm. My cold feels a little better today...not coughing quite as much. And not as congested. And I think I even have my wife firmly in corner after I explained this latest piece of information.

About two or three hours ago...Barth calls me...and tells me something very, well...infuriating.  I'm not sure I have all these things in the right order...but the one important piece of information is correct and that is all that matters. The guy who got heads up with Ryan Lenahan in the 1k made a comment at some point to the dealer...who was the same dealer I was wondering about...a tall, skinny blonde girl, who told us she was from Belarus. She spoke with a very thick, Eastern European accent, and I merely asked her if she was Russian. She replied, kind of snottily, that she was from Belarus, as if being 'accused' of being Russian was this great slight. For those of you who took history or geography in grade school, you will remember that Belarus was once a republic in the old U.S.S.R. So in fact...they were a 'part' of Russia as we knew it growing up. Her snottiness was the part that got me to wondering about her involvement in this mess....since I couldn't, for the life of me....think of ANY other female dealers I had deal to me that whole day.

So this guy made some kind of a remark to her about her massaging her feet. What prompted that I don't know...poker players make stupid little remarks all the time, usually in a reckless flirty kind of way. Honestly, I'd be an asshole if I didn't admit to doing it myself a few times in the past. (never inappropriately, and almost always to a dealer I knew well) Granted, it was all in fun, and just being silly...but whatever, I guess I can see where a dealer MIGHT take it the wrong way? But to have you thrown out of a casino for it? That seems a little, well...you find your own word. I have mine.

But this wasn't the case with ME...because I hadn't said anything to her like this. But whoever this guy was...had! And she responded by telling him he'd better watch what he said to her...because if he didn't 'she would have him kicked out of the casino like she did to that guy yesterday!!!' Ashley Butler...who we all know as a friend of Ryan's, and a very good player who has been running great this year...either over-heard this comment, or simply was TOLD of this comment, and shared it with Barth...who immediately called me and told me this. But whoever heard her say that, asked her if she was talking about 'Monkey' and she said yes. That she had been the one who had me kicked out...because...and I quote, 'He tried to get me to have sex with him for $1000!!!'

When Barth told me that...obviously my reaction was "HUH!??????" The smartasses Barth and Kai, responded by saying..."well, that is definitely a lie, because you would never offer THAT girl $1000 for sex!!!" Okay, okay...thanks guys, for your support. I got off the phone with him...and sat laying here in my room, wondering why she would say this. Did she know a player who was trying to set me up for something?

Then....BOOM! About an hour ago...it HIT ME. Like a ton of bricks! Holy shit!!! And now that I know what happened...all I can think about...is how to fix it.

Ever send someone a text message...and meant for it to read a certain way? But they took it completely a different way? That if you had said it in person...would have come out sounding so different? Whether it be in the way you delivered it...or how the reactions on your face affected the delivery of the message? I think we all have. Right? 

How about this one. Ever said something to someone who spoke a different language as their native tongue? And had them look back at you funny? Which caused you to think that either they were just an asshole? Or that maybe they misunderstood you? We call this a language barrier.

Guess who just got kicked out the Horseshoe Casino due to a language barrier!?? Yep, your's truly. In a sense, I feel better...because I have FINALLY solved the mystery. A also feel better, because now I don't think anyone was trying to set me up or frame me or anything. Nor do I have to worry about my wife thinking I'm up in Chicago propositioning women for $1000.

Here we go.  In the Saturday event....due to the large number of players still in the tourney, and the size of the playing area, and the fact they had positioned the payout area in the back of the theater...in an area where dealers came in through the back door....a place the players would never find on their own...they had something like 10 dealers, who I guess were working the late shift maybe, but were there and not dealing yet, lined up along the stage. Each dealer had a payout number printed on a card. When a player would get knocked out, the dealer would announce that a player needed payout. So whichever one of these dealers was next up...would walk over to the busted player...and escort that player to the payout area in back. Are you visualizing this?

So...I look over to the area where those dealers are standing...as my chip stack continues to dwindle, and I continue to be card dead as shit. I notice one particular dealer, a guy, older guy...who the day before had dealt me two brutal beats...on the day I played in between Day 1a of that event...and the day off before Day 2. I commented to the guy in the 9-seat, that if I were to bust soon...I wanted ANYONE but THAT guy to be my escort back to the payout area. That it would just be too much of a punch to the pride. At the time I said that...he was third in line.

Then...a few hands later...I get the AK in the BB. And after all the money got in, and I was behind  KK and needing an ace, or a heart after the turn, I bricked the river and was out of the tourney I'd hoped like hell to final table. Then I glance over to the stage...and HOLY SHIT, guess who's turn it is to waltz over and hand me my payout card with #133 on it...and escort me to the payout area!?? Yep...that guy! So...true to my word, I semi-jokingly chased him off when he approached me, taking the card from him. He knew I was joking with him...and asked if I knew where to go? Yes...I knew where to go. So as I was walking past the stage, and the other dealers who were lined up there...which consisted of 6 female dealers and 2 guys...I make this comment: (or something very close to this, this much I remember for certain!)

Gosh...they have all of you lined up to take us back to get paid out and I get the guy who murdered me yesterday! What a bad beat that is! I would have been happy to walk back with ANY of you instead! How about you!?? (gesturing to the girl from Belarus who was at the end of the line)...care to escort me back to get my $1000? She responded by giving me a nasty look. Well, okay...I will take that as a no! Sorry! And immediately I wondered why she had taken that so badly. Because up to that point, I hadn't even known her. Hadn't had her deal to me before. Wasn't even sure she was a dealer.

Well, I found out later...when she dealt to me in the Mega Satellite, which I got into after getting my payout. She came through and dealt a down during that. And this day I was wearing my Saints jersey and sweatpants with tennis shoes...so that when (sitting in the five seat) I accidentally stepped on her foot or kicked her or something, she snapped at me that I needed to watch my feet. Then remarked that her boyfriend was the dealer two tables away. (her boyfriend? why is she telling me this!??)

"Huh? What are you talking about??? I hit your foot?" I looked under the table, and realized perhaps I had stepped on her foot or something.

"I am sorry if I hit your foot or stepped on you. I assure you it wasn't on purpose. I will keep my feet under my chair, sorry." She said something that indicated she understood and appreciated my efforts to avoid her feet...and that was the end of it. She pushed out a short while later.

So. That is it! And after hearing Barth relay the story that was told to him...and rolling it around in my head for an hour...it just CLICKED. Wow! So no big conspiracy. No attempt to railroad me. Just a dealer who (a) completely misunderstood me and (b) is probably a little over-dramatic and quick to pull the trigger, is the reason for this whole, unbelievable mess. Which would explain why...as I was being escorted off the property yesterday, and past 7 or 8 dealers who were out on the back of the boat taking a smoke break...and 4 or 5 of them were greeting me and being friendly in the midst of my panic-stricken march to '86-Land' she was one of them back there...and gave me kind of a nasty glare before quickly turning in the other direction. I wasn't positive if I saw what I thought I saw...but now I know for sure it was exactly what it felt like.

It was a "See! Fuck with me, and I will fuck with you!" look that she was giving me. Only....I WASN'T FUCKING WITH HER!!!! You foolish foreigner!!!! How bout learning our language before you go running off to security and getting us thrown out of our workplace!!!??

And you know...that whenever a female walks into security...and issues a complaint like that...security is going to jump right on her bandwagon. An investigation was conducted? What a fucking farce! No one was interviewed. No witnesses were questioned. She didn't even go to her WSOP supervisor! Which is what dealers are TOLD to do if a player ever makes an inappropriate comment, or makes them feel uneasy. It happened this summer in Vegas. A dealer, small little Asian lady...had blessed me with an amazing suckout...and upon leaving our table I stood up and gave her a big hug...which I later found out, scared her. Whoops. But in that case...security showed up, after she had correctly reported it to her Supervisor (usually a Dealer Coordinator). Security came over, along with the D.C. they told me what had occurred, asked for my side of the story, I shared it with them, expressed my total regret at having scared her, that I was just happy. They understood, and that was that. No problem.

But this girl? She didn't go to her supervisor. She didn't tell ANYONE on staff. She went straight to House Security. I know that, because I was told that by a couple of pretty good friends who are Floor Supervisors up here. Well, that and because the guy from Security told me that she came into their office and issued the complaint.

So there you go. The next question? How in the HELL do I get this overturned? How does it get fixed? Why are these idiots who work in security, not just here, but seemingly at every damn casino I encounter, so quick to just pull the trigger to get people kicked out? When I kept trying to ask questions, all these jerks would tell me is "It's private property, they can kick you out for whatever reason they want!" Yeah...dickhead, I got that. But if you just willy-nilly kick everyone out...guess what? You no longer have a business! I am one of the people who actually do quite a bit to SUPPORT this game! I have a pretty damn good relationship with most of the players and staff. Do they ever even THINK about exploring any of this before some drama-queen Euro girl runs into their office crying wolf? Or do they just act the same for every single episode that comes across their desk? Ah ha!!! A reason to go flex our muscles and exercise our power!!! Lets go boys! Let's go show this scum bag who the bosses are!!!!  Saddle up!!!!

So now that I have FINALLY solved this fucked up mystery, I guess the question still persists. Why....WHY does this shit only seem to happen to ME? I mean...if this isn't a pure case of 'Holy shit, how in the hell could that statement be taken THAT way, and thus result in THAT happening!??? And to YOU...who seems to have EVERY bad beat thrown at him!??"  The answer is: I don't have a single fucking clue! I can't think, or don't want to think, anyway...that I am just unlucky in life. But sometimes...you really have to scratch your head and wonder. I don't know if this is something that one of my friends can approach this girl about...tell her how she totally misinterpreted what I said, completely, and ask her to go back to security, and apologize for the misunderstanding, and ask that I be allowed to return. Because, as I see it...that is about the only chance I have of them letting me back in. It doesn't seem like it should be that hard. Does it? That is what I am going to try to do.

I've got a lot of other shit to attend to...that has been neglected as I've been slipping in and out of a cold medicine-induced coma the last two days.


MONKEY