Wedding of the year part 2
Kev decided he did not want to choose which of his friends who would be best man. Instead, we would play one hand of poker and the winner would take responsibility. It was irrelevant really as in any situation like this, Julian was bound to win. Simon Nowab was not present so Kev played for him. To add spice to the situation, Padraig had come up with the idea that whoever came last would be the flower girl. Everyone had agreed to this in my absence, knowing full well I was all but nailed on to get this honour.
I insisted on a new rule, should anyone tie for either first of last place everyone was back in.
The cards were dealt and I was obviously thrilled to see pocket jacks. This was almost like a freeroll, it’s impossible to come last from here. Surely!
I was right and I duly went on to win it. Unfortunately irony was to play its part. Kev, playing for Simon and Padraig, both came joint last. They both had Q8 suited and neither improved with the board, despite Padraig flopping a juicy flush and straight draw. We would all have to play another hand. Doh! Damn my fair play rule change.
I insisted the button move and was reasonable happy with the K10 I was dealt. I wasn’t out of the woods however. By the turn I had made a pair. Julian obviously already had the thing locked up with a flush or straight or summut but if the queen of spades came on the river, I would be stone last. Normally in this situation a one outer would be 35-1 but with my fate in the balance it was probably be nearer even money. Thankfully I was spared when a jack came to my rescue.
Irony had played yet another part. Padraig had missed all his draws. He would have the honour of carrying Leona’s bouquet. He complained that the button should not have moved but no one was willing to replay the hand. I accompanied Padraig in the casino bar till around 5am helping him drown his sorrows.
As I had blown all my money by night 2, mainly due to a strategically placed craps table, he lectured me on the benefits of bankroll management. He told me to stop playing the side tables and concentrate on poker. I have an edge at that. Despite the fact we had way too much to drink he was making a lot of sense and at this point I agreed to never touch the tables again. He talked me into going to Vegas for the entire world series and to have a shot at as many events as possible.
The following night, Kerry recommended a restaurant by the sea called Fisherman’s Wharf. When we arrived It was not the most salubrious of surroundings and Kerry promptly informed us it was not her 1st choice and she couldn’t get us in the other place. She needn’t have worried, this was the Caribbean not London Mayfair, nobody expected the Dorchester. The food was tremendous and I would recommend the place if you are ever out that way, (that is of course, if the place is called the Fisherman’s Wharf. I can’t actually remember but Bev assures me every Caribbean Island has a restaurant called the Fisherman’s Wharf so I’m sticking with it. Kev, maybe you could confirm in the comments when you read this, if you haven’t fallen out with me for posting this that is)
Simon Nowab makes his usual late arrival. Not to the restaurant but to the island. He’d flown in a few days later. Rather than going straight to the hotel to check in, we told him to meet us at the restaurant. A little flustered, he explained how he had missed his connection in Antigua. It had cost him the best part of 400 bucks to get another for the short journey over to St. Kitts. To add insult to injury, while waiting for his new flight he thought he would take the opportunity to have a cigarette. After passing through security and enjoying his vitamin N, he was forced to pay a further $25 departure tax before being allowed back in. Oh well, any smoker will tell you that 25 bucks is cheap for a ciggy after being deprived of one for 7 or 8 hours.
We arrive back at the hotel and I was secretly pleased everyone was talking about having an early night. Last night’s session with Padraig was still taking it’s toll. I agreed and said 2 drinks and I’m off to bed.
Simon whined on how it was his first night an insisted we stayed and drank with him. He then dragged me kicking and screaming to the roulette table to blow another 200 bucks. Oh well, 16hours without gambling is not a record, but it was a reasonable start. A few minute later Simon went to the toilet and never came back. The lightweight was drinking bottled water anyway.
Obviously some 8 hours later me and Padraig were asked to leave by the barman. All the other staff had gone to bed and he would like to join them.