Palm Beach Kennel Club Poker Room Rude, unprofessional poker dealers, and NO SECURITY?! West Palm Beach, Florida

    After working 17 days straight, I had decided to go to the Palm Beach Kennel Club's Poker Room yesterday to play some Texas Hold 'em for the first time in God knows how long.  The last time I was here, I was wiped clean:  My bank account was drained, my kid's college funds depleted, I even borrowed money against my 401k and now, due to the Palm Beach Kennel Club, that's gone as well.

    I had been on such a losing streak, I was due to finally win something. I chose not to eat anything nor pay any bills for the past 17 days while I worked to bring all of my funds remaining to the poker room.  I knew I was going to win.  I had that gut feeling to gamble...

    I joined a table of seven others playing what seemed to be a friendly game of No-Limit Texas Hold 'em.  I placed my chip stack of $100 on the table in front of me, and immediately the dealer screamed at me, "YOU'RE KIDDING RIGHT?!"  "I'm sorry?", I asked, confused.  "TAKE A LOOK AROUND YOU!", the dealer screamed again.  I took a quick glance around at the other players at my table, and quickly realized I was at a rather expensive table.  Everyone at the table had about five or six grand sitting in front of them.  About a split second later, the dealer yet again screamed at me.  "WAY TOO OUT OF YOUR LEAGUE HERE, PAL!  GO SIT WITH THOSE GUYS OVER THERE!", as he pointed to a table way in the back of the poker room, a table in which seven or eight senior citizens were playing a friendly game of Dominos.  "No, I'm playing.  I'll be right back, I just didn't know how much the buy-in was", I stated. 

    I knew I needed to get back to this table and show this idiot dealer that I belonged there with the "big boys".  I just quickly had to come up with $5,000.  I considered calling my parents, who no longer speak to me, until I had a genius idea.  I would sell my car for cash right out in the parking lot!  I was already 4 months behind in my car payment anyway.  I figure I could sell it for cash before it gets repossessed. 

    I walked out to the parking lot and grabbed a marker, a piece of cardboard, and some tape to put on my window.  "FOR SALE... GIVE ME A PRICE", I wrote.  I'd just take anything at this point.  It took about 30 seconds before an ugly-looking Haitian guy said "I BUY! I BUY!"  After talking to him for about 3 minutes, he handed me an envelope with $2,500 in it.  I took one last look at my 2011 Chevy Malibu, took the envelope, and handed him the keys.

    I walked back up to the high-rollers' table with my $2,500 in hand and slammed it on the table in front of the dealer's face.  "Well look who's back!  I stand CORRECTED!", the dealer yelled, as he looked amongst the other seven players at the table, as they were all now laughing.  "Mr. Big Shot here

brought some money.  Well, well, changing $2,500!  Comin' right up!"  The dealer then pushed that huge stack of chips towards my direction.  I was in, and I knew I wasn't going to lose.

    I sat directly across from a nice, very thin-framed black guy with dread locks, and gold teeth.  "Good luck to you, sir," he said with a smile.  "Name is Benny".  I introduced myself and smiled back.  After playing a few hands, I quickly noticed my new pal Benny was a very talkative type, which I typically don't like while playing poker.  He was telling me how he's a taxi driver, and how many kids he has, and so on.  After a few short minutes I noticed he was in quite a large hand...

    His opponent laid down a queen-high flush.  "Hahaha... I got FIVE kids to feed!", Benny stated, as he laid down his cards, revealing the nut-flush.  "Nice hand" everyone told him, as Benny raked in about $700 from that hand.  "Yea, I got five kids to feed...", he mumbled under his breath again, as he counted his winnings.  I thought to myself, "wow, this guy really loves his kids."

     A few hands later, I saw he was in yet another pretty big hand.  "Come on baby, I got FIVE kids to feed", he said yet again.  Benny then laid down a full house, aces over 9's.  His opponent mucked his hand and said "nice hand."  "Yeah, buddy, I got FIVE kids to feed!", Benny said as he smiled, raking in his chips, which now put him in the lead at the table.

    Finally, I was dealt A,K suited, so naturally, I raised pre-flop.  The only guy to call me was Benny.  "I'm feelin' lucky, what the hell", he said, once again reiterating that he had a family to feed.  The flop came out A, 9, 9.  Quickly, without hesitation, Benny pushed all-in.  He had about $11,000 in chips, clearly way more than me.  After about 3 seconds, the dealer screamed in my face "YOUR MOVE, SIR!  COME ON!  CLOCK IS TICKING!"  His screaming in my face made even more nervous and undecided.  "I... I... ummmm..."  "THE NEXT WORD OUT OF YOUR MOUTH BETTER BE FOLD OR CALL!", the dealer yet again screamed.  His hustling made me just immediately say "fold", and I through my cards in.

    "HA!  I BLUFFED YO' A**!" Benny screamed, while laughing hysterically.  Benny then turned his cards over, revealing 4,8 off-suit.  "Nice hand", I said sarcastically.  Still laughing, Benny said "Hey, I got FOUR kids to feed."  I didn't miss out on the fact that he said "four" kids, after all day sitting here, listening to the fact that he had "five" kids to feed.  Curious, I said "what happened to the FIFTH one?"  With a deer-in-headlights, hand-in-the-cookie-jar look, Benny looked at the dealer, then back at me and said "sh*t, man, you got me.  I ain't even married!" 

He then laughed again, raking his chips in.  The next thing he did really creeped me out however.  With his right hand, he grabbed a hold of his left arm and sort of just popped it off.  It turned out it was some sort of bionic-arm, hiding a hideous disfigurement of his actual arm.  It was horribly-disfigured, and stretched out about 6 feet, with only 3 long fingers.  "I'm handicapped", Benny stated. 

     It took about 10 to 12 hands later before it was a showdown between myself and Benny again.  This time, I didn't even get a chance to look at my hand yet before Benny was yelling "RAISE!"  I glanced at my hold cards, noticing I have pocket aces!  Benny was now standing at his seat, anticipating for me to move all-in.  Of course, I re-raised him and moved all-in. 

    "CALL!", Benny screamed, now jumping and dancing with

excitement.  Benny then threw his cards down, revealing pocket kings!  He then smacked high-fives with the dealer, as everyone around us now applauded, and Benny took a bow. 

    I then laid down my cards, revealing my pocket aces.  "SON OF A...!", the dealer screamed angrily immediately after seeing my cards.  He then took his tip bucket and heaved it across the poker room, sending chips flying everywhere as the bucket smashed against the wall.  The crowd around me

then starting booing and jeering in my direction, one guy even said "I CURSE YOU!"  At this point, I had no idea why the crowd had hated me so much, however loved Benny. 

    The dealer turned the flop over, revealing 6, 6, K!  The King on the board sent Benny into a uproarous cheer of pure ecstacy, as recognizable music hit over the speaker system.  The song was "I Like the Way You Move" by Outkast, a beat almost as recognizable as Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" beat.  Benny then began dancing in front of everyone, waving his arms back and forth to the beat, the crowd chanting "BEN-NY! BEN-NY! BEN-NY!" as he danced.

     I was sick to my stomach at this point at how unprofessional the Palm Beach Kennel Club was.  This isn't how poker is supposed to be played, and I was fed up.  I stood up, anticipating yet another devastating defeat at this God-forsaken dog track.  However, just when I was about to take the walk of shame, the dealer turned the river card over...    

    "ACE!" the dealer screamed.  I couldn't believe it!  Just then, the music of Benny's music came to a sudden halt, as a record scratch sound was heard, and the entire 300 plus people in the entire poker room stood in misbelief.  "YES!" I shouted, "this is the first time in my history of poker that I'd ever caught on the river.  My nerves were shot, my heart was racing.  I took a glance around me, only to see the 300 plus people now suddenly dead silent, as if their team had just blown the World Series.  

    I looked over at Benny who was giving me the most evil look I've ever seen on a man.  He then took the remainder of his chips and walked backwards with his arms in the air until he was out the door.  The dealer tapped me on the shoulder and said "that was lucky.  d**n lucky.  You have no skill in this game whatsoever."  I brushed off his jeer and said "I'm getting out of here.  Good luck to the rest of you."  As I walked out, I could hear people mumbling negative things about me, I heard one of the other dealers scream "YOU SUCK" in the background, and a few people were booing amongst several other who were crying hysterically, as if they had just lost a family member.  

    I knew I was never coming back to the Palm Beach Kennel Club ever again.  Their dealers are some of the most unprofessional people I've ever seen in my life, they had no security escort me out, and not-to-mention, they have the rudest staff in the world!

    I quickly called for a cab, when a fellow degenerate gambler stopped me and said "Sir, they have complimentary Johnny Cabs that will take you home."  "Well, at least something good came out of this place," I thought to myself.  I called over one of these so-called "Johnny Cabs", and it came right over to pick me up.  

    "P.B.K.C. Johnny Cab" was written on the side of this vehicle, as it pulled up, looking like a legitimate taxi.  The back door automatically opened, and I got in.  The window to see the driver inside was completely limo-tinted, so I couldn't see the driver.

    "WHERE TO?!" the voice yelled, seeming somewhat angry.  I gave him directions to my house, as it was about 4 miles away.  While driving, I tried to make small talk with the driver, however he wasn't even responding to my questions or statements.  I glanced over in the arm rest of the backseat, where a styrofoam cup sat, with a card that read "complimentary" next to it.  "Wow, how nice", I thought, as I reached over and took a sip of the drink.  This drink turned out to be a delicious fruity beverage that was quite thirst-quenching!

    After about 5 minutes of driving, the driver pulled up to my home.  I managed to say about half of the sentence "thanks a lot for the ride", before I was briskly cut off and told "THAT'S $85!"  Confused, I said "Wait, isn't this complimentary?"  An even more stern "$85!" yell came from this man behind the tinted glass.  I thought to myself "what a ripoff!  $85 to go a measly 4 miles?!"  I started counting some of the cash I had just won, when again the man behind the glass said "AND THAT DOESN'T INCLUDE TIP!"  I thought to myself "what miserable people work here at Palm Beach Kennel Club," as I counted out another $10 to give to the driver.  

    I got out of the car and walked around to his driver window, which was also limo-tinted.  The driver rolled down the window a crack, just enough so that I could slide the money through it.  I said "no, sir... I need you to roll the window down so that I know that I'm not getting ripped off, and I'd like a receipt as well."  I could hear the man behind the window start breathing heavy, and getting very frustrated.  "If I don't get a receipt, I can't give you all this money", I stated, as I began to back away from the car.

    Finally, the man just opened the door, and stood up out of the car.  Now, when I tell you this guy was huge, I mean he was humongous!  He stood about 6 feet, 9 inches.  He stood over me, looking down at me like he was going to break my head open.  I almost messed my pants when I seen him quickly reach in his back pocket, only to pull out and hand me the receipt!  He then yanked the money out of my hand, and got back into his car, seeming extremely angry.

    "Wait!", I said to him.  "Haven't I seen you before?  What's your name?"  

    The man, once again, clenched his steering wheel with both hands, squeezing so hard the steering wheel almost snapped, grinded his teeth, and closed his eyes real tight before he could say... "My name is Keith.  Keith Friberg.  And I'm BACK!", and then he peeled out of my parking space, leaving his burn-out marks throughout my driveway.

    I now know I will NEVER go back to that horrible Palm Beach Kennel Club ever again.  Like I said, the dealers there are miserable idiots that aren't professional whatsoever, and their "Johnny Cabs" are a complete ripoff!  NEVER AGAIN!