The bar was dead and I was fairly sober, which, considering how much beer I'd consumed while watching the Mediocre Bowl, surprised me. Never underestimate the leveling effect of a fatty, heart-attack inducing meal, I guess.
After eating my last Scoop and rinsing my mouth out with the final swig of Special Export Light, I decided to grab my laptop and put the bar's sparkling new WiFi connection through a series of tests. The wireless connection was fair at best, which only means that I won't be playing any tournaments there. It's suitable for ring games, though. The only problem was that, even though the bar offered the connection for free, they had one power outlet in the entire bar--directly behind a load-bearing column. Not a huge problem, as I really don't need to be spending more than a few hours belly-up, anyhow.
Late in the night, near bar close, I was up abour $40 and that more than paid for the few beers I drank. Sure, the WiFi is free, but the booze is fucking expensive. Playing poker on my laptop at the bar is really no different than being in a casino. There is noise, distractions, distractions with boobs...you know, other things to satisfy my self-diagnosed, adult-onset ADD. As long as I don't decide to prove my bravado by two-tabling with 10 beers settling in my belly, I'd safely say that bringing my laptop to the bar isn't -EV. Too bad I can't pay the waitress in digital chips.
As I was closing out my tab, and about to close out my session, I was dealt a hand that could potentially make my night a substantial loser--pocket kings. We've all had it happen. You have a decent session, and after telling yourself just one more hand, you actually get a hand that's worth playing. A monster. I cringed as the flop brought an ace, but breathed a booze-filled sigh of relief as the only other player in the hand folded to my pot-sized bet. Good, I'll just close this and go home with that to top off my night, right?
Not so lucky, because on the very next hand, I'm dealt kings again. Here we go. Let's lose everything you've worked hard to steal from the others at the table, shall we? Sure, why not.
I bumped up to 5 times the BB from LP, and was called in two places; the button and the BB. At this point, my stack was sitting somewhere around $120 after moving from another table-which is an annoying little gripe I have with Doyle's. The tables break up far too often-, the button had a little more than I did, the BB, relatively little. I think he had around $20. I didn't have a problem with whatever the BB held, because his puny chip stack couldn't put so much as a ding in my fender. The button, though, scared me a little. When someone can take an entire nights profit in one hand, it becomes harrowing.
Flop-K-Q-x all hearts.
Hey now, I've got trip kings! I'm a virtual lock on the hand, right? OF COURSE I AM!
The blind checks, I fire out a pot sized bet, which the button doubles. The blind goes all in for another 5 bucks or so, and I reraise, thinking that the button couldn't possibly have flopped the nut-flush. I wanted him out of the pot that was rightfully mine. He proves my wrong by putting his entire, $130 worth of pixilated chips into the center of the digitally rendered table.
Now, here's where I ask for advice from people much better than I.
Is there any way that I can possibly lay down trip kings to someone that I have absolutely no read on? Is there ever a right time to muck this hand? Could you fold it? This isn't even a rhetorical question, I'd really like to know how many people actually could lay it down, and your reasons behind it. I'm not gay, but comfortable enough with my sexuality to admit when a guy is attractive, and these were easily the three best looking men on the planet, if not the universe. And they belonged to me.
Of course, I couldn't lay it down and I winced as the button turned over ace-crap of hearts. I don't even remember what the BB held, but I'm pretty sure that I yelped loud enough to get a handful of bar patrons to glance nervously in my direction.
The pain turned to bliss, the yelp melted into inner applause, and the turn reinforced my blatant heterosexuality as I mouthed "I love you" to the beautiful queen of clubs. I pissed off an anonymous man half way across the country with my re-suckout, and I've never been happier to see a person leave the table.
So, could you have laid it down?