Not the same as TV
Felt a little spectacular yesterday. Off to Harrah's in San Diego to watch a World Series of Poker Tournament - the Final Table. Great. So, after the second round and a 10-minute break, back into the room - the chick says, do you want to sit down? There are some seats over here... and she shows the way. Awesome. Behind the dealer... facing most of the players... up in the action. Great.
And then, one of the players (Chad Brown) - who was short-stacked... and feeling a little tense (I saw it in his face, and in the laydowns he took... that he probably got played on...) - looked straight at me. Cuz, I was studying his face and his expression and his eyes since he was the only one not wearing sunglasses. Caught!! So every once in a while, he would look up and catch my eye again - and it was weird... because I haven't quite mastered the smiling at a stranger and maintaining the eye contact thing for too long. Look, smile, look away. In the space of tw0-three seconds at most.
But it was cool, ese. That wasn't the source of the spectacular feeling, the boost of confidence, though, that came later. I mean, I'm not all up into making people notice me for no other reason than I got caught staring. It was when it was getting later in the night, and the crowd was getting thinner, and the room became a cozy little party. Connecting with the players - Jesus bought drinks - Chad went all in (jokingly) on my command - the announcer did a little dance - again on my command. Connecting with the other spectators. Joking. Laughing with the server, Monica, about how she stumbled over that middle lump every single time. Every single time. And, then, when I get up to go to the restroom, stumble, stumble. Funny. All there to entertain and enjoy each other. It was fun. That was great. That was a boost of confidence - because I was engaged and totally myself. Having a good time. It gave me a boost - because it served as a reminder to remember by joyous, happy self, and having it confirmed, validated, by the mirror of other people's responses.
I felt good. Granted, I was a little bit of a groupie for the poker rock stars... but it was cool. Cuz, when Jesus doubled up Chad Brown... well, I got a little happy. And when Chad Brown got eliminated... I was a little sad. And when Jesus crippled Prahlad with four aces... well, I had called it before the turn... son of a bitch - that was cool.
Definitely not the same as TV, real people, real interesting. And time, of course, maybe because it was flippin' forever (12+ hours)... but it really did seem like time was lasting forever. F. O. R. E. V. E. R. I mean, nearly standing still. The clock on my watch didn't mean anything compared to the game clock. It was just a number - all that mattered was the game clock. And the seconds, waiting for a call, for a fold, for a river card to save someone, they lasted hours. It was definitely cool.
And then, one of the players (Chad Brown) - who was short-stacked... and feeling a little tense (I saw it in his face, and in the laydowns he took... that he probably got played on...) - looked straight at me. Cuz, I was studying his face and his expression and his eyes since he was the only one not wearing sunglasses. Caught!! So every once in a while, he would look up and catch my eye again - and it was weird... because I haven't quite mastered the smiling at a stranger and maintaining the eye contact thing for too long. Look, smile, look away. In the space of tw0-three seconds at most.
But it was cool, ese. That wasn't the source of the spectacular feeling, the boost of confidence, though, that came later. I mean, I'm not all up into making people notice me for no other reason than I got caught staring. It was when it was getting later in the night, and the crowd was getting thinner, and the room became a cozy little party. Connecting with the players - Jesus bought drinks - Chad went all in (jokingly) on my command - the announcer did a little dance - again on my command. Connecting with the other spectators. Joking. Laughing with the server, Monica, about how she stumbled over that middle lump every single time. Every single time. And, then, when I get up to go to the restroom, stumble, stumble. Funny. All there to entertain and enjoy each other. It was fun. That was great. That was a boost of confidence - because I was engaged and totally myself. Having a good time. It gave me a boost - because it served as a reminder to remember by joyous, happy self, and having it confirmed, validated, by the mirror of other people's responses.
I felt good. Granted, I was a little bit of a groupie for the poker rock stars... but it was cool. Cuz, when Jesus doubled up Chad Brown... well, I got a little happy. And when Chad Brown got eliminated... I was a little sad. And when Jesus crippled Prahlad with four aces... well, I had called it before the turn... son of a bitch - that was cool.
Definitely not the same as TV, real people, real interesting. And time, of course, maybe because it was flippin' forever (12+ hours)... but it really did seem like time was lasting forever. F. O. R. E. V. E. R. I mean, nearly standing still. The clock on my watch didn't mean anything compared to the game clock. It was just a number - all that mattered was the game clock. And the seconds, waiting for a call, for a fold, for a river card to save someone, they lasted hours. It was definitely cool.
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