Antepost: Drunk and Reflective in JFK

by Roy Brindley

Picture the scene: You have driven along the hard shoulder at 120 mph passing miles of stationary traffic, made death defying sprints along one-way systems against oncoming traffic, overtaken an ambulance en-route to the crash which has caused this mayhem all in the cause of making your flight to the U.S. for the World Series of Poker.

Remarkably you make check-in with a minute to spare and once there find you have packed both your tickets and passport. You’ve brought a bottle of sun-screen and even an unprecedented four changes of underwear.

Now what could possibly go wrong? Hell, they may as well present the winner’s trophy here at the airport. But then a grim reality dawns on you — you have forgotten to write your monthly piece for Card Player Europe.

With the thought of a child prodding me in the back for the best part of six hours en-route to New York, and leg room/laptop-room at an all-time low, I conclude there is no chance of me compiling a suitable contribution to the world’s premier poker publication in flight. These pearls of gambling wisdom are not easily nurtured, you see.

Yet, courtesy of Jet Blue Airways canceling my connecting flight — they say due to weather conditions, which is bizarre as there is not a cloud or a puff of wind between here and Hawaii — I find myself with several hours to spare stranded at JFK Airport.

It is still not enough time to complete a masterpiece of gambling autopsy as I am now both resident and inebriated in the Aer Lingus lounge in terminal four.
Here the Internet connection is so slow I get the impression that if I were betting online the horses would be in the unsaddling enclosure while others were still backing and laying in-running.

But high-speed cyberspace is not the only advantage. There is a drinks cabinet which would feature in a modern day rewrite of Aladdin’s Cave. A library is at hand which boasts the likes of a copy of jockey Kieran Fallon’s autobiography. And, in addition to enough snacks to push Mr. Creosote into explosion mode, dinner is served at 3 p.m.. Furthermore, there are showers with complimentary shampoo, shower gel, and deodorant.

I swear, if Dublin airport could offer the same fare at the same cost, I’d make the 80 mile return journey from my home to attend on a daily basis. Resultantly, I am on my ninth bottle of beer and I am freerolling. It’s like a rake-free cash game featuring rake-back as if it were a fully raked game and I’m a house player!

Recently on At The Races TV channel, while shamelessly promoting my recent book, I declared that I’m one of the worst gamblers around. I stick by that statement while also declaring there are very few betting angles that I have not identified or explored. Sadly, I am just not disciplined enough to stick to them.

Ironically I took pride in the statement, as never before has a book been written by someone putting their hands up and saying “I am a sick gambler”.
But today I found a feature on racecourse commentator Phil Curry who is about to pack in his day job and pursue a career as a full-time punter.

This follows on from the paper’s publication of Patrick Veitch’s book, Enemy Number One, and A Bloody Good Winner, a book from Dave Nevison — both are successful professional gamblers.

I have nothing against these guys, to the contrary I respect them greatly, but it is the losers of this world that buy these books desperately seeking the secrets of success.

I am not an ex-gambler just yet and I promise if that day ever comes I will not lecture on that subject. All I will tell you is that never having a bet, while doubtlessly hugely good for your long-term health, is mind-crushingly tedious, and if you can keep your gambling in sufficient check that you never have to give up, then you should make every endeavour to do so. Currently I am stuck in the void somewhere in-between these two scenarios.

Trust me, the Curry’s, Veitch’s and Nevison’s of this world are extremely rare. They probably outnumber the losers of this world in the same ratio their individual stories have sold books and newspaper — several thousand to one.

An airport lounge thought for the day: “Alcoholics go to meetings. Drunks go to the bar!”