Variance is a stupid bitch

I went down to Atlantic City this past weekend and had one of the better cash sessions of my poker career. After spending a few hours grinding it out to even on Friday night, I was touched by an Angel Saturday Night and could do no wrong. I made a few hundred grinding out some 1-2 NLHE tables (seriously, Orthodox Jews can't play poker for shit) and made $700 (!) in profit at the 10-20 two way game. The two-way game is Stud/8 and Omaha/8 in 30 minute rotations, with a half kill to $15/$30 on a $150 scooped pot in Omaha. It's my favorite game to play down there and I was rocking it. Matty Ebs was in attendance and could attest to my powers.

Two strange events occurred to me on Saturday night enroute to my $1050 profit day:
1. I sit at the two way table and someone calls out, "Jamie's here!". I look up and one of the regulars I recognize is looking at me but actually behind me, to a big guy named...Jamie. As I found out later, it's really Jaime, but I'm not quibbling. He sits next to me and I take out my license to start a "guys named Jamie conversation" (trust me, it's a subculture), and he says, "Are you the guy who runs the home game in Manhattan?".

I nearly fell off my chair.

WTF? How did he know that? He told me that the night before, someone had played with him and when someone else had called him Jamie, this guy thought he was me! He insisted that there could only be one guy named Jamie who plays the two way game. My doppleganger Jamie doesn't look anything like me (about 50-55, tall and on the hefty side), so it was clear that this other person didn't know what I looked like. So how did he get us confused? Because he reads this blog, that's how! I felt like a celebrity for a second, it was so strange.

So, mysterious player who was described as white, thin and a young internet player who was just getting started in Brick and Mortar rooms; If you're out there, give me a shout in the comments! I want to know my readership! :-)

Strange thing number 2:
I'm playing in the game and my phone rings. The caller ID says it's W, so I answer but someone named Mabel answers.

"Hello," I say.
"Hi, this Mabel, a friend of W's. I'm in the high limit area. Can you meet me here for a second?"
"Sure"

I meet a nice little asian woman who works for the Borgata poker room. She needed someone to get an order of food for the high limit players who didn't want to leave their table and they were running short on staff! I would love to have done it because I imagine the tip would have been good, but by the time I got there, someone from the table had already left on the job. Too bad. I wanted those 600/1200 mobneys!

I went to sleep Saturday night elated with my great day.

Sunday was the complete opposite. For every hand that went my way on Saturday, Sunday was the Bizzaro opposite. I got three 18 out draws that all whiffed completely. I tried to play tight and aggressive but by the end I was pumping the pot on good draws and missing completely. When I did make a good hand, I inevitably chopped. In fact, I only scooped a single hand the entire 8 hour session. Miserable.

All in all, I gave back $750 of the previous days winnings, both at 10-20 OE and NLHE. Tres Miserable.

I was all set in my head to write it off. After all, I was still up for the weekend which was more than some of my compatriots could say, but the universe gave me a final slap as I was leaving. First, some background:

My Blackberry corporate phone (my only one) had malfunctioned in the past week. I got a replacement, a snazzy World Edition, that Friday just before the AC trip. I hooked it to my belt, where it stayed all weekend comfortably and securely, right next to my beloved IPOD Touch. I boarded the bus to leave AC and when I sat down next to Matty Ebs all seemed to be well. 20 minutes into the trip, I wanted to call the crew and see how they fared in their travels. I reached down to my belt to find a blank area where my phone used to be. I don't remember taking it off and I don't remember it falling off. If it was pickpocketed, it was a masterful job. If it fell, I don't know how I didn't feel it. Quite strange. And, of course, the phone was on vibrate so I couldn't even call it to see if it was on the bus.

{Sigh} I'm getting a replacement tomorrow afternoon, which I will tether to my nostrils in an effort not to lose something else.

Crappy Sunday, to be sure.