[gonores]

I think mike l was talking about me when referring to a good TJ craps story. I posted this story earlier this year, but it found it's way into the archives. I re-wrote the story and added a good deal of description....It's probably worth a re-read. Here it is.




Last night was the final night for the Minnesota contingent of poker players in Vegas. To celebrate their final night, we decide to have a night on the town. The party included me, Schneids, BK, NLSoldier, Fsuplayer and his roommate, Josh (not to be confused with superstar mod Josh.). We head over to the Palms to eat at N9ne Steakhouse. Dinner was excellent, though Schneider didn’t order any drinks with dinner and Fsuplayer was stuck having an interstate argument with his fiancé during the first few courses. Somehow, Schneids didn’t get kicked out for wearing a t-shirt and cargo shorts. This impressed me. I will learn how to do that some day. Good times were had by all.

After dinner, we head out to play some craps before hitting the clubs. Since everyone else in the world walks slower than me when I am buzzed/drunk and on a gamb00ling kick, I lead the pack to the craps pit. I spot a nice little table with a good view of most of the pit and one large gray-haired guy as its only gamer. I stumble up and drop a few bills on the table…I’m focused and ready to play. Five to ten seconds later, the rest of my not-so-fleet-of-foot party shows up at my table and I hear someone from my party say, somewhat quietly, “Dude, it is T.J.” Many others of my party confirm his identity to me in muted tones. I look up. Holy crap. We’re playing craps with TJ Cloutier.

Me: “TEEEEEEEEE JAAAAAAYYYYY!!! HOW’S IT GOING?”
TJ: *inaudible muttering*

The look on this man’s face is not one of a “happy gamer.” I decide this man could crush my skull, so I try to befriend him. I, along with the rest of my party, drop down a few red chips on the pass line and loudly instruct TJ to roll us a seven. Although I cannot give first hand confirmation, the dealers and multiple party members later informed me he had $2,000 on the pass line.

TJ rolls a seven.

Me: “ATABOY, TJ!!!”

Wild celebrating and high-fiving of other members of our party ensues.

Seconds later, the dealer swoops in and cleans every chip off the pass line. I am confused. I, along with the rest of the group, express our confusion to the dealers and to TJ. TJ informs us that he tried to tell us he had already made a point before we got there, and his seven just crapped us out.

Oops. Again, the look on TJ’s face did not make me think he would consider that little etiquette faux pas as water under the bridge. I begin to apologize, but soon turn my attention to the cocktail waitress who needed to be gawked at and who needed to be told that we desperately needed coronas. By the time my attention is back to the table, I have the incident forgotten. Josh, the next roller after TJ, craps out quickly, and the dice are sent to yours truly. As it’s early in the night, I inform TJ and the rest of the table that I am feeling good, and that I am going to make everyone a ton of money. As the dice are being sent over to me, I watch TJ place his bet on the pass line, and notice both of his wrists are bare. Since he is on the other side of the dealer and a whole 8 feet away from me, I decide to turn up the volume and inquire “HEY TJ, WHERE’S YOUR BRACELET?!?”

*Awkward two-second silence* I wonder to myself what the hell made me say that.

A small, sarcastic-looking grin cracks on his face. He informs me he doesn’t wear his bracelets everywhere he goes. I congratulate him on his recent win anyways. He mumbles again. I proceed to crap out in expeditious fashion. Awkward silence ensues. We’re not sure to what levels of despair TJ is sinking, but his smile is long gone. Tension fills the air for a few moments as we all steal glances at the powder keg on the other side of the dealer. Dice are pushed to Schneider. Everyone throws up a gambler’s prayer to their god of choice.

*cricket* *cricket* Craps tables at popular casinos on Friday nights should never be this quiet. Schneider, clearly shaken by the ordeal, flings the dice clear off the table, past the slot machines, and into the men’s room. The event that will break this tension, namely, hitting a point, seems so desperately far off that I eye the Money Wheel as a safer gaming alternative. I desperately scan the crowd for our cocktail waitress. Order is still a few moments away from being restored. A few lame, possibly nervous, drunken quips are thrown at Schneider from our party. The table silences again as we wait for the next throw.

My gaze is drawn away from the table for a few moments, probably to gawk at a big, beautiful pair of fake breasts or something.

And then it happened.

“Man, you should of known you had no chance in 2000. Nobody can beat Jesus heads-up.”

I whip my head around toward the direction of the voice. I figure out that the source of this line is Josh and I see him with a drink from dinner still in his hand…he’s drunk-swaying ever-so-slightly. He’s not really looking at TJ, but he’s not looking away from him either. I lean over the table to try to catch a glimpse at TJ. I wonder in my mind whether or not I hoped TJ had heard that comment. If he had heard it, his demeanor hadn’t changed much. It takes a second or two for what just transpired to register, and I start giggling. I look at FSUplayer….he’s giggling too. Since I’ve gotten to know Josh a bit better since then, I’ve come to anticipate and be on the lookout for moments like these…FSU must have seen it coming. I don’t know if the Minnesota kids just didn’t hear the comment or if they just weren’t comfortable reacting to it…I’m guessing it was more the former than the latter, because we were all well on our way to incoherently drunk at that point. Still giggling like a school girl, I look back at Josh. I’m not sure he realizes that he’s made a funny (Once again, as I got to know him better, I realized he’s just really good at keeping a straight face). We’re still waiting for the game to resume. Then salvo #2 was fired…

“You should have known ace-queen was no good there. What were you thinking? You gotta lay that down against Jesus.”

*Ding* That one registered. TJ looks up and opens his mouth and shoots Josh a look, but I think he took a look at Josh and realized verbal reprimand was pointless at this point. So now not only is he probably down 5 digits in craps, he’s also taking crap from 20-somethings whose already over-inflated egos are even larger by copious amounts of alcohol. He could have been irate with us, or he could have been asking himself if this was him hitting rock bottom…I’m never good with deciphering the countenances of old men who are used as examples for mothers who try to scare their children by telling them "not to make faces like that or your face will freeze, just like his.”

Either way, I’m glad I didn’t have my beer yet, because in my younger years I’ve learned that shooting beer through one’s nose is not pleasant, and I am certain that would have happened had I been drinking at that point. All of us crack up, as we realize that it’s fun to ridicule cranky old people…especially those who were influential in making jobs like ours possible. Tomfoolery and mirth-making once again become the standard at our table.

Somewhere in the next two or three rolls, TJ slinks away from the table and resurfaces across the pit at a different table, presumably with people who don’t know him. I decide maybe we suck and that I should go over and apologize, but somehow conveniently forget as soon as NLSoldier gets the dice in his hands and hits point after point for us. By the time he had to pass the dice, some cute girls had filled in where TJ was standing and I decide making TJ leave was a good thing. Unfortunately, the girls ended up sucking and the rest of the night was split between losing money at craps and attempting to persuade the girls to ditch the guido losers who were tring to get them over to Tangerine and to go out with us. I was later assured by BK that losing that battle was no big loss for us.