7 FEB 06
So, I TOTALLY fucked up date night last night.
For those of you who don’t quite appreciate the egregiousness of this offense, let me just say that this is the first time I’ve uttered a curse word on this here blog. Go ahead, search my archives. No cursing. Go ahead, I’ll wait…
I left work with the intention of playing a little Hold ‘em before picking up the kids. No big deal – I’ve done this before. The dear and patient wife is usually not home until 6:30 or 7, so I have a little free time in the afternoons. Call it my reward for getting up every day at 4:30 in the ayem.
Well, what totally slipped my mind is that we had a babysitter all arranged to pick up the kiddos at daycare. My ONLY job here was to plan the date night festivities.
So, as I’m sitting at the 6/12 game at the Muckleshoot (bad beat jackpot is now over $200K), my pager goes off. It causes me to check my cell phone, and I realize that I have no reception. The page is my wife asking me to call her back. Of course, this means getting up from a very lucrative table, but I oblige. I have to walk all the way to the parking lot to get reception, a journey I would come to repeat 5 times over the next 45 minutes. No response at work or on the cell, and I leave two message before heading back to the tables.
I finally get through after multiple pages, text messages and calls – did you plan date night?
Shit. Totally slipped my mind.
I could lie at this point. I’ve got several really good stories that are an easy sell…
“Baby, I’d have called sooner, but we had another shooting, and they requested me by name to look at the CT scan.”
“Sorry hon, one of the surgeons asked for a second opinion on his wife’s mammogram. You understand, right?”
But, it’s awfully hard to sell when the floor announcer comes over the PA system and says “Dr. Chako, you want 10/20?” right when the dear and patient wife answers her cell - the ONE time reception actually gets through!!
Of course, I’d never lie to my wife (unless it was at the poker table).
And so, I offer this as my apology. I’m sorry. I was a shit. I won’t let it happen again.
The night ended well. We saw Mrs. Henderson Presents, and actually got a few good laughs. It was at the Grand Cinema, and artsy theater in Tacoma. They serve REAL BUTTER on their popcorn. It’s funnier because they actually serve it from a container marked, “For that Butter-y goodness.”
The night was summed up by one of the players at my 6/12 table. He lost a big pot when the river completed his straight, but also completed the other guy’s flush.
He said, “Damn. I was drawing dead, and got there.”