People I encounter in the airport are rude and aggressive.
A few hours later I ride a courtesy van through the hot and dusty streets of Las Vegas. I am now on home soil, and seek comfort at a poker table.
I gaze at the men who sit around the felted table, Asian, Indian, European, American.
As the cards arrive and leave I experience a range of images and colors. Even with a set of rules in place, each moment allows for a foolish act or word to pass from me to the table. If I remain silent too long, throw every hand away, the men will make note. I look at my cards, throw them away.
My daydreams are interrupted by an ace and a king. My pulse quickens.
“When surrounded by people, act as if you are alone in a field.”
I breathe, imagining trees and sky. Instead of raising, I call.
A talkative man on the button announces he is raising.
The big blind calls.
I call.
The flop brings an Ace.
With alarming immediacy the man in the big blind announces he is all in.
I call. All I have is one pair, but it is the best possible one pair.
"Oh well," says the man on the button as he mucks his cards.
The man in the big blind turns over one pair of Aces, with a 5 kicker.
As I leave the casino, $500 richer, I am already missing the rules of the game. My legs are weak and I am hungry for food as I walk alone under the achingly bright desert sun, the sky cloudless and blue.
