"Why do I always sit next to this guy?" I asked myself, sidling up to the $10-$20 limit table at the Hollywood casino in Aroura, IL. For a while, it didn't matter when or where I'd play poker I'd sit next to the strangest or smelliest (often both) person at the table. This time was no exception.
They guy looked 90, but was probably in his 50's or 60's. He had shoulder length dirty white hair that was matted in patches. He was wearing a filthy powder blue down jacket, and it was 85 degrees outside. He smelled of vinegar and bile.
I knew he was in worse shape than it first appeared when he picked his cards up off the table and held them centimeters from his bulging, cloudy blue eyes.
"I can't see anything anymore, Tony." he said to the dealer as he squinted at his plain to see Jack-duce. "My eyes are blown out." He tossed his cards into the muck and continued talking to no one in particular.
"Last month I was at the Majestic Star, and I won two grand. Two grand! I was pretty pleased with myself leaving there," he laughed a little at his fortune. "When I was pulling out of there I had a stroke. Right there on the Skyway. Blew my eyes out. I can barely see. I can't drive, I can't dress myself, I bump into stuff trying to go to the bathroom. And at my age I don't always make it."
His hazy gaze turned downward as his chin sunk into his bony chest. There was a weird silence at the table, we were all contemplating our health and mortality I assumed.
Finally, the dealer spoke: "Did you win that money in a cash game or a tournament?"
A few of us laughed, but what was Tony supposed to say? Besides, we were all wondering the same thing.
"Cash game," the old, smelly, blind guy responded as he folded pocket 8's.