There Is A Difference
I was cruising through one of Georgia's quaint little towns, enjoying the drive through ancient oaks and old pecan plantations, when the unmistakable sound of a blowout of my left rear tire cracked through the peace and tranquility.
I pulled over and discovered that I was in front of a mental institution. I changed the tire and realized I had misplaced the lugnuts for that wheel. As I was scratching my head, I heard a voice from one of the windows say, " Take one nut from the other three wheels until you get to a auto parts store". I replied to the voice," A very intelligent solution to a problem, how come you're in there?" The voice replied (laughing), " I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid."
I was visiting this casino for the first time. The opportunity of my favorite table position arose, so I stepped right up. I bought in and settled in to a rather choppy table, as it turns out. I was just betting table minimum place bets, until I could chart as I played.
On my right, was a guy wearing a N.Y. Yankee baseball cap. He was betting the horn-hi yo on the come outs, all of the hardways any time a player would throw one. If a hardway hit, he immediately pressed all the hardway bets.
If the hardways didn't hit, he would replace, if it was thrown easy, or press anyway, thinking it was due. Every once in awhile a hardway would hit, just enough to keep him chasing his losses. I was up a few bucks, so I made slightly higher place bets, then all down after two hits or regress after one hit then down after another.
The dice came to Mr. Hardways. Evidently he had practiced at home at throwing a point, then a seven. He started going berserk, replacing his hardway bets, as the dice were pushed my way. I made a couple of points with several numbers in between. None of them hard. He was really going nuts! "Don't you know how to throw the dice?", he shouted.
Mr. Hardways even had his bets working on the comeouts. I hopped the sevens for $15 with my $5 pass line. Three consecutive sevens! He looked at me, shaking his head. I threw a point, but he was afraid to bet when I hopped the sevens for a $15 , hardways a nickel each, $54 across. Hard four, nine, hard six, hard ten, hard eight, five, nine, nine, eight easy, five, five, hard ten. "Hardways down," I told the stick. "Make me look like $22 inside," I said to the dealer.
Two hits, then pressure, every other hit until big red showed. " I'm taking a class about dice shooting next month," I said to Mr. Hardways. Then I colored up. I was amazed that I had such a good hand, the first hand, in a strange casino, but, I quess your skills become extra sharp when a player like that tries to belittle you because of his own stupidity.
I don't like anyone to bully, belittle, or try to embarrass me. I only show concern and utmost courtesy for other players at the table unless that courtesy and concern is refused to me. Mr. Hardways bought the atrium in the resort a few new flowers.
COLOR ME UP!