Lady GoDiver

As Tom McEvoy so diplomatically pointed out in one of his recent columns, my tournament play is not likely to get me into the Poker Hall of Fame anytime soon. In graphic detail he described how I "destroyed" my chips while playing in an Omaha eight-or-better tournament at the Wildhorse Casino in Pendleton, Oregon.

Hey, Tom, it wasn't my fault. I was just getting a lot of bad beats. Look at the hand I went out on. I started with very promising cards: J 8 6 4. The board showed K 9 9 6. Look, I had backdoor draws to a nice low, a straight, and even a flush. I just got unlucky and missed.

But Tom's column reminded me of just how bad I've been running the last 20 years. What made it even more puzzling was all the preparation I had been putting into my playing. Every time I entered a casino that had a fountain, I would diligently throw in a handful of coins for good luck. The higher the game, the more coins I would toss in. Sometimes when I played as high as $3-$6, I would drop in six quarters. And don't laugh. I once read that about 3,000 euros are thrown into the famous Trevi Fountain in Rome every day, so it must work. I even used the traditional lucky throw: three coins with one's right hand over one's left shoulder. So why weren't the poker gods showing their appreciation for my generosity?

And then, one terrible day, I discovered why. I was walking near the big fountain in front of Caesars Palace in Vegas when I noticed a crowd of tourists pointing and laughing. As I got closer, I watched in horror as some old hag repeatedly dove into the water, lifted coins out with a metal scoop, and dropped them into a bag. My coins! As she climbed out of the fountain clutching her loot, I recognized the culprit. It was Aunt Sophie! The old thief began running down the Strip, dripping water, laughing and jingling coins. I've heard of bag ladies, but water-bag ladies?

I chased after her, clamped my hand on her shoulder and brought her to a stop. "Aunt Sophie!" I shouted. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

She stared for a moment before recognizing me. "Oy, it's Max Shapiro, the man who so funny he thinks he is. Obituaries I've read that were funnier than your columns, dollink."

"Thanks, Sophie."

"And 'Sophie' don't call me. My new name is 'Lady GoDiver'."

"Oh, that's cute. And what if your nephew, Michael Wiesenberg, finds out what you're up to?"

"Michael? His idea this was. A small percentage I have to give him for in business setting me up."

It figured. "Look, Sophie - I mean, Lady G - why are you doing this, anyway?"

She shrugged. "Some extra money I needed because a living I can't make as a cocktail waitress at the Barstow Card Casino. That cheapskate Big Denny, even less than what Barry Shulman pays you is what he gives me."

A tear rolled down my cheek. Less than what Barry pays me? For once I felt sympathy for the old yenta.

"And those hick farmers," she raved on. "The most any one of them ever tipped me was 50 cents, and for that a lap dance I had to give him."

Instead of Aunt Sophie, I suddenly felt a wave of sympathy for the poor shmo she lap-danced.

"In 10 minutes," she continued, "more quarters I make from a fountain than in 10 weeks at that casino."

"Yeah, water quarters. And what do you do with them, anyway?"

"Pan. Pan with them I play." She cackled. "You should see how mad those ladies get when I empty my bag and all wet the table gets. My coins I can't even cash in anymore now that in slot machines only paper they use."

"How thoughtless of the casinos," I sympathized. "Any other problems?"

"Pennies. A lot of shmegeggies throw pennies into the fountains. Why my time are they wasting, and how do they expect good luck to find for a penny? Anyone throwing in pennies they should be arrested."

"Arrest someone for throwing pennies? You're the one who should be arrested. Don't you know that what you're doing is illegal? And what would your nephew think if you were arrested? What would you do?"

Aunt Sophie shrugged. "No problem it would be. I would just tell the police that Michael made me do it, and let them put him in jail. And speaking of Michael, how come those royalties you never paid him for letting you use me in your columns?"

"I sent him one of my books."

"I know, dollink. On eBay he tried to sell it, and 35 cents it was the best offer he got."

I had had enough. "I'm going to call the cops right now," I raged, pulling out my cellphone. "A lot of those quarters are mine!"

"All right, already," Aunt Sophie said, throwing up her hands. She dug into her bag and pulled out a handful of coins. "So here's your quarters back, you shlemeil. Now go away and let an old lady make an honest living."

With that, Lady GoDiver went skipping down the Strip, croaking,

Throw coins in the fountain,
I need some money to play pan.
Throw in anything but pennies,
As much as you possibly can.

Well, now you know why I haven't been having any luck lately. Aunt Sophie has been stealing it. So please go away, Tom, and pick on someone else.

Max Shapiro, a lifelong poker player and former newspaper reporter with several writing awards to his credit, has been writing a humor column for Card Player ever since it was launched 20 years ago. His early columns were collected in his book, Read 'em and Laugh.