Underground Poker Game in Chinatown
Some guys I know told me that they heard about an underground poker room in Chinatown that hosted Texas Hold’em cash games and asked if I would like to come along to check it out. It sounded interesting, so we made a plan to hit it one day after work; however I got caught up doing something out in the burbs that afternoon, so I told them I would meet them there once I was back in the city after a couple hours.
It took a little time to find the place, but once I did, I rang the bell and was buzzed in. It was in an apartment on the second floor above a dim sum restaurant. Upon entering, I immediately I liked the place even though it was a little warm, it smelt like dumplings and the interior was a bit run down, dirty and dated. There was also a faint smell of vomit and urine near the tables that kept resurfacing throughout the session, but I’m always happy to experience new things with different people, so I didn’t let that get to me. The short, plump, dark haired waitress/hostess was on the phone speaking Mandarin (or maybe it Cantonese, I have a hard time differentiating between the two) when I entered and there was one of those shiny gold “good luck” cats that wave at you endlessly on the desk next to her. Once I told her I was there to play cards, she led me to a back room and put me at a table of what she called “VIP regulars” in a very strong accent that I could barely understand. In fact, I’m not even sure if that is what she said or if she even understood me, but she did bring me to a table, so everything was moving forward. My friends were nowhere to be seen and I could only assume that they either busted out already or got spooked and bailed on the place. I was the only round eye to be had and there were only a couple other players at the table.
Anyway, I got a corner seat next to a big, balding Chinese guy named Kang who was the big stack at the table and there was a $300 minimum buy-in. Kang was in a wife-beater t-shirt, sweat pants and sandals with white socks. He was unshaven and stank a bit, but it was nothing too putrid to make me cash-out of the game. There was only one other player there. He was wearing dark sunglasses, smoking nonstop and had on an extremely wrinkled and dirty white collared short-sleeved shirt. He was across from me and was hard to read. He showed about as much emotion as a potato. He didn’t say a word despite the pleasantries I bestowed around the table upon being seated. I ordered a beer from the hostess and bought into the game.
After going back and forth for a little while, the guy in sunglasses lost his stack to Kang and left the table without making a sound or even acknowledging that he was leaving. Once he was gone, Kang and I got to talking. He seemed like a good guy, but as is usually the case in such places, he was a bit rough around the edges, especially when the Shaojiu (Chinese vodka) took hold. I quickly determined he was well beyond his intoxication level. After I settled in, Kang lost some of his luck, but he offered and then kept filling my glass from his bottle of Shaojiu, which I was chasing down with a Tsing Tao beer. I thought the free shots were a nice touch, but I paid for them through the obligated conversation that followed. Kang likes Xi Jinping more than Hu Jintao or Jiang Zemin, Egg Drop Soup more than Hot and Sour, Dim Sum more than Won Tons, and thinks that all Taiwanese are traitors of the worst kind. Strangely, I couldn’t get him to elucidate his thoughts on Chairman Mao, Lin Bao or the Cultural Revolution. I’m not sure if this is because that may be a forbidden topic to discuss with foreigners in a place like that or, more likely, as with many Chinese, he may not know much about that period of China’s history. We did agree that none of the modern leaders could touch good old Deng Xiaoping though.
As the game went on and we were approaching midnight, I flopped the nut flush (diamonds) and got Kang to push me all-in. It was a nice way to finish it I thought, so, once we showed our hands and I took down the ample pot, I told him I was a big fan of Chiang Kai Shek and praised the General for keeping the Republic out of Mao’s greedy Red hands…Unfortunately, Kang couldn’t take the joke. He then yelled something in Cantonese (it may have been Mandarin, I have a hard time differentiating between the two) and then one of the security guys quickly came over and escorted me out of the place. Once on the street, the security guy yelled something at me with an almost frantic waving of his arms that I didn’t understand and slammed the door. Despite this ending, I still had my winnings, was riding a strong Shaojui buzz and felt that I met some good people...I quickly decided I would go there again sometime and then embarked on a search for some egg rolls and pot stickers.
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I was at the Ale House the other night talking to a couple friends at the bar when a shorter dude with a scraggly beard and bald head came up and interjected himself into our conversation by saying, “Do you all mind if I join you? I just arrived in Chicago and have never spoken to Chicago Jews before.” I found this contentious opening line to be strange and offensive, so I let him have it. His response to my rebuff was, “I’m sorry, I’ve had five beers already and in Colorado, where I’m from, we don’t have such diversity and didn’t realize that I was saying something offensive.”
I then explained again how his remarks could be taken inappropriately and then wrapped it up by saying, “With Trump in the White House, especially after Charlottesville, we all have to be mindful and ensure that prejudice of all sorts, even in a joking manner, will not become the norm or accepted in any way.” He apologized sincerely and then joined us.
At around 2am, I was calling it a night and when I went out to find my ride home. He was outside smoking a cigarette. We were saying our goodbyes when a homeless guy walked by to which he offered the guy some smokes and asked him how he was doing. The guy said he was on pcp and took a couple smokes. The Colorado guy then invited him into the bar for a drink and the homeless guy said he didn’t think he would be allowed into the bar and that he hadn’t slept for five days. It was my turn to interject this time and I told him it was probably a good idea not to go in and cause a raucous, but in a very cordial way. I then bid this unlikely couple adieu.
