The Rape of 912

So, dear readers, at this stage of my poker career (soup kitchen), I have elected to concentrate on live (brick & mortar) games to the exclusion of the more convenient online variety. Why, you ask?

Flashback to Sunday September 12, 2004, 7:37pm. I logged in to my online poker site, which shall remain nameless, and decided to forego my usual $200 NLHE game and for the first time try my hand two-tabling $15-$30 HE. I quit playing 57 minutes later, down $997, but the result was not important. What did strike me, however, was the eerie combination of transience and looseness, coupled with well-rehearsed moves and timely folds. It was as if I were watching a directed screenplay albeit as one of the actors. Players were constantly raising and reraising before the flop, and, if the script demanded, thereafter. Players were leaving the table, players were entering and players were re-entering. Players were folding, sometimes awkwardly, but mostly very skillfully. Getting a read on anyone, or any group, was well-nigh impossible. It reminded me of the first time I got fleeced by a three-card monte crew on a London street as a young traveller.

Disclaimer: Your mileage may vary.