Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column warning you not to sit down at any poker games around here.
We say this after hanging out at Barkley’s West Tuesday night. Owner Dan Fallon is courting votes for his town council re-election campaign from the gambler demographic it seems. No, we jest.
Actually, it turned out to be quite an exciting affair (“exciting,” of course, avoiding the description of that sinking feeling you get when you turn over your two pair and realize the guy at the other end of the table has three of a kind). There were more than 20 people who turned out for a night of no limit Texas hold ’em. And we are here to tell you that you don’t have to watch the World Series of Poker reruns on ESPN to see some good poker players.
Yes, the sunglasses, the lowered baseball hats and pro chip-shuffling were in effect. We haven’t seen that many steely eyed looks since the public meetings down the street at town hall when Harry Trubounis was trying to open a strip club. Cool customers, these ones.
And you might think that running a poker game at a watering hole would attract some unsavory characters. You’d be right – but only looking at us and the crew we rolled in with. Otherwise, the consummate card players were gathered around those tables. A lot of hand-shaking and compliments in that bunch.
But then there’s the money. You might think, playing a few hands once a month with your neighbors or the occasional game with the guys, that you’re prepared to sit down in a tournament. Maybe you play online and bet thousands of chips in funny money. Be prepared for a rude awakening should you decide to test your mettle. And we’re not saying that just because we were taken out within the first six hands, either. Or maybe we are.
The winner shall remain nameless (one player called him “the mechanic.” We thought his play was more artful, and we tried to get him to give us a good poker name, like “Frisco Slim” or “The Jack,” but he wouldn’t have it.)
Let’s just leave it at this: If a guy in glasses and a visor asks you to come over to his house Sunday night to play a few hands, be careful what you bring to the table, and pack a lunch.
We wrote last week about our disappointment in joining the rest of the world in having to constantly buy new sunglasses because we’re now constantly losing them, and we discussed the dilemma of buying good (expensive) sunglasses or cheap ones, knowing you’re only going to lose those, too.
Bill and Beth in Toledo, Ohio, took pity on us and sent us no less than four pairs of sunglasses, along with a note that says, “Enjoy! And see in comfort.”
If any other daily column tries to tell you they have the best readers and fans in the world, they’re just plain liars.
Now, we just need to start complaining about money, cars, Chippendale dancers and big log homes and see what the postman brings.
We don’t know about you, but yesterday’s weather, well, it stunk.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, drought, blah, blah, blah, we need the moisture, blah, blah. Three weeks ago, we were fine telling people, “Yeah, we wish it was sunny out, but we need it.”
Anybody else sick of having to console themselves by saying “we need it”? We were just getting into our sandal wearing, and not three days later we have to scrounge around for socks. Oh, the horror of it all.
We have some Congrats! and other good news like that.
We’re proud to tell you that Jesse Manton, whose mother Lyn Manton-Krueger lives in Dillon, has accepted a Dean’s Scholarship to Fort Lewis College for next fall. Jesse graduates from The Oakley School in Utah this year.
You should also know that these Summit kids will be putting on the mortarboards at CU-Boulder’s commencement: Katherine Kompinski earned a bachelor’s in economics; Michael Mund got his in psychology; Meghan Willis will have “communications” on her sheepskin; and, Amalie Veralli will be able to tell us where this world went wrong with her degree in sociology.
Our advice, as always, to the recent grads: Go back to school. The real world hurts.
We’ve been hearing lately about everybody’s awesome mud season vacation. Do us all a favor and keep it to yourself.
Sorry. That just kind of slipped out. We didn’t really go anywhere, not even to Moab, which is, like, a requirement for Summit Up Land citizenship or something.
A couple people sent us photos of their vacation, but we’re hoping our more participatory friends out there will go a bit further: We’d love to hear about your vacation (and see more pictures), but since this is Summit Up, have a little fun with it. In addition to all the juicy details, make sure you tell us A) the best reason to go there, and 2) the worst reason to go there, or some sort of humorous variation thereof.
We want to know what’s in the mystery meat (or your best guess), we want to know about the cute little waiters in male thongs, we want to know about the sand you’re still finding in your underwear. On second thought, maybe we’re better off not knowing about those things. But we’re sure you can come up with something to tell us.
Send your missives, postcards and pictures of scars to email@example.com, fax at (970) 668-0755 or just tell us which Cabo San Lucas jail to send the bail money to on the voicemail at (970) 668-3998, ext. 237.
Hey, what else do you expect on a Thursday? Ladies and gentlemen, this is what you get.
We’re out practicing our three-card monte …
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