Saturday morning in Ueno Park

Austrian scumbags

I close my eyes. The aroma of cheap hair gel and cigar smoke fills my nostrils. I feel my face being scrutinised. I hear the familiar click clack of poker chips, the drag of a cigarette and then the exhale. Did he just breathe his cigarette smoke on me on purpose? I pull the brim of my hat to cover my eyes further, try to remain still and control my breathing. My opponent is clearly frustrated and I know he is probably going to fold. I want him to fold. I try not to do anything, even to move. I don’t want to give him any ideas about making a hero call . Eventually, after a painfully long time, he folds. *** I had heard the poker games in Vienna were good, so had travelled to the Austrian capital to investigate. A nine hour train ride with Swedish backpackers later and I was in the suburbs of the Austrian capital. The Montesino Card Club is located in a very odd leisure complex, the centre piece of which is four large gas cylinders which have been decommissioned and converted for modern...

Casa de Scaffolding

Portugal is one of my favourite travel and poker destinations, but I have a terrible record of booking accommodation there. During the first time I had played beach volleyball, I received a recommendation of somewhere to stay in Lisbon. Firstly let me say, don't play beach volleyball. It really hurts your hands and you get sand in your face a lot. On my ill adjudged foray into this sandy and painful game, I got talking to my team mate and mentioned I was about to go to Lisbon. "I know a great place to stay" she assured me. We chatted further between points and as I had no writing device to hand, I made a mental note of the B&B she strongly urged me to stay in Lisbon - Casa de Hospedes . It sounded great and just up my street. A couple of days later, with the trip approaching, I still hadn't booked anything. I remembered the beach volleyball tip. A quick google and it popped up straight away. I had a personal recommendation and it was very reasonably priced so ...

Naked flush draw

I was in Austria. It was winter. The time was after midnight. I had busted the main event of a large poker festival. It had been close to the bubble in a hand where I had got it in good and been outdrawn on the river. I had invested the maximum time and emotional energy for no financial reward. I wasn't in a great frame of mind. The walk back to my accommodation took around 15 minutes. I remember it was snowing and that I had inappropriate footwear. My room was cheap and quiet, ideal for my needs. But there was a caveat to consider that I had half forgotten. When travelling for poker I often book someone's spare room instead of a whole apartment as it works out more affordable and I am hardly ever there. This time my host was a jovial guy in his 50s. He was awake when I got home and greeted me in the lounge with a friendly hello. I'd already been there three days but he took this moment to decide to ask me about life as a professional poker player. He asked all of the q...

This Bogus Poetry

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