Thread: New studio
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Old 02-16-2018, 04:01 AM
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joseph engraver joseph engraver is offline
Join Date: Sep 2007
Location: Sarzana,Italy
Posts: 648
Default Lucky Bob

I had read about this famous club that was established in 1907 in The Card Player Magazine and knew that they had a strict dress code. As I was a jean´s, old boots and sweater type of guy. I decided that once got to Paris it was time to do a bit of shopping for a more appropriate wardrobe.
Finding a shop that sold western wear was not easy, but with the help of a cabbie I found what I was looking for in a shop named the Cowboy Dream located on Rue de Turbigo.
I am a quick shopper, if I like it I buy it. Two hours and fifteen hundred Euro later I had a 10x grey Stetson hat, a new pair of Caiman belly Tony Lama boots in a nice dark chocolate color, a grey calfskin, waist length jacket, a couple of white western cut shirts and a very nice silver bolo tie that complimented my belt buckle .As the clerk was organizing my new wardrobe into boxes and bags I handed him my old boots to pack and slipped on the new Tony Lama´s.
I do love gambling money; it is so easy to spend.
I asked the sales clerk who spoke perfect English to recommend me a good hotel near The Aviation Club. He said that the Amarante hotel was on the corner of George 5 Avenue and the Champs Elyseés. “It is only rated with four stars Monsieur, but I think you will find it quite suitable” As my French is limited to a few phrases, I asked him to call for a reservation for three nights in a single room and then call a cab to take me there.
When I entered the hotel Amarante I compared it to The Five Flies, The practical penny pinching Dutch without a doubt needed to take lessons in elegance from the French.
I signed in at the reception desk, left my passport as required, and then mailed Al a post card telling him where I was.
I was tired from travel and shopping. Even though it was mid afternoon and Paris was there for me to explore, I am a poker player and not a tourist, I went to bed.
The September sun had set when I opened my eyes and made my way to the toilet, turned on the bath water; heeded natures call, and then sank into the hot bath water to soak before shaving.
As I stood naked before a full length mirror I was pleased to see my waist had tightened up and the jelly roll was disappearing.
Although I was wide awake, I went back to bed and lay there thinking about the game of poker. I am not a believer in luck, although luck certainly does play a part in any gamble. I believe that the cards run in cycles.
When they are in your favor one should optimize .When they are not, you must realize it and play with caution. There are many times that you will throw away hand after hand to the point of boredom, good poker players call this “knitting a sweater.” If I enter and play twenty out of one hundred hands and win twelve and I have made no mistakes in judging my opponents, I will cash out winning a substantial amount.
My stomach began complaining, I do not like to eat before a game as I think more clearly on an empty stomach. Tonight however I intended to eat well before the game.
I stood in front of the mirror, dressed in my new duds, set the Stetson at a bit of a tilt, and admired the results.
Lucky Bob would have been impressed. Bob may have flash, but tonight I had style.
I stopped at the reception desk and handed the clerk my room key, then stepped out onto the Champs Elysees, paused, to study the street a moment, then started the twenty minute walk to the Aviation Club. My bank roll in my left boot, my wallet wedged tightly sideways in my back pocket.
The air was sharp with the city smell of diesel fumes as perfume. Settling my new Stetson tight on my head, I dodged the merry go round traffic of taxies, cars, trucks and motorbikes to cross over to the Arc De Triumph.
I walked down the Champs Elysees, past the bars, restaurants, coffee shops, strollers with their dogs, and the tourists.
Bob and once said. ”Never assume that you will not be a victim of the rats that prowl the streets of any city.” I thought of those words of wisdom as I enjoyed the sights, while keeping my eyes open, looking back once in a while. There were two teenagers following me, and I smelled rats as they came closer. “Wise guys” is what Bob called them.
The crowd on the side walk was thick, I slowed down, and suddenly one of them bumped me hard knocking my new Stetson to the sidewalk. I felt the other one digging my wallet out of my back pocket.
I turned, grabbed his wrist and brought the heel of my new boot down hard on his tennis shoe, He cried in pain, dropped my wallet on the walkway and went limping off with his pal to the gutters where t hey came from. I don’t think anyone noticed the whole two second incident
Once I had recovered the wallet and my Stetson, I made my way to the entrance of the Aviation Club where I was welcomed by the tuxedoed doorman. His first words were, “Monsieur are you J.R. from Dallas?” Lucky Bob would have laughed, I answered in all seriousness “No, I am Monsieur Wilson, from Las Vegas”.
Mr. Ronnie Moss enters my life.
I was about to enter and check my Stetson and jacket when another American man walked up to the doorman and asked if this was the Aviation Club. The doorman looked at him, sniffed as if the guy smelled bad and said. “Oui Monsieur, but you may not enter here dressed as you are, you must wear a tie, jacket and shoes. The doorman was spot on .This guy looked as if he worked on a farm .He was wearing a dirty white baseball hat, baggy tan pants, a loud plaid shirt and white tennis shoes and a canvass coat. I had seen many others dressed as he was in the Vegas casinos.
Knowing you cannot judge a book by its cover, I asked him where he was from.
I am from Wyoming, Cody Wyoming; I am here to play in the tournament, made reservations and flew over here to play. I have a suit, tie and dress shoes at my hotel, never expected the French to be so snobbish. Name is Moss, Ronnie Moss”. He extended his hand and I shook it, feeling the strength and calluses as I did so.
You can learn a lot about a person when you shake their hand. “I am Joe Wilson here on vacation, but I enjoy playing poker now and then.”
I like to know as much about another player as possible without seeming nosey.
”Ronnie, Are you by chance related to Jonny Moss?” he shook his head then said “You mean the man who won the first world series of poker and had that famous million dollar game against Nick the Greek? No I am not.”
That little voice in my head told me that Ronnie Moss knew more about poker than his appearance suggested. He then hailed a cab and said “I´ll be back, you have a good night.”
I turned and showed the doorman my passport entered the club, checked my Stetson and jacket with a very sexy girl also dressed in a tuxedo.
She held the hat in her hands, looked at in admiration then asked. “Are you from Dallas, Monsieur?” I was tempted to say yes, but my stomach was now ready to revolt from hunger. “No I am not. My name is Joe Wilson, and could you please direct me to the restaurant.”
She looked at the hat once more, took my jacket then said. “Please go to the top of the stairway and register with the guard.”
At that moment I realized the Stetson was creating a lot of interest with these French and might be an asset at the poker table. I nodded and said. “Thank you Miss. and I think I shall keep my hat on.”
Retrieving my new Stetson from her loving hands, I made my way up past the paintings and photographs of the daring men posed with their magnificent flying machines.
On the second floor there behind a desk sat another lovely young thing, also dressed in a tuxedo.
She welcomed me with another brilliant smile and asked for my passport.
I have played in many a casino, but never with so many check points manned by such lovely women. The thought occurred to me that it would be nice if security it LAX did the same.
After registering and paying a hundred Euro membership fee, she pointed to the tuxedoed gorilla standing at attention by an electronically operated glass door.
”He will let you in Monsieur, Good luck to you tonight.”
The gorilla said not a word, but he did glance at the Stetson as the door opened and I walked into the main room of the casino.
Then I saw it. It was over in one corner and as soon as I did, my stomach gave a gurgle of anticipation as I read the word, Restaurant, followed by four gold stars.
While waiting for the Maître di to come and welcome me, I took in the pleasant seating, all very spacious.
When he arrived I asked for a booth, which offered me a view of the entrance and my back to the wall, my preferred spot when dining out and sitting at a poker table.
He hesitated not for a second, nodded head, and led me to the booth I indicated. I thanked him as he handed me a leather bound menu and the large wine list.
I hate dining alone; I think it is one of the loneliest moments in my lifestyle. That is when I thought of Gina
I have enjoyed many brief romances, but never pursued a more permanent relationship. It seemed to me that each time I considered one, the refrains of an old country song “She got the goldmine and I got the shaft” would float into my mind.
I searched the menu for sea food, as I never like to eat a heavy meal immediately before sitting down to a game of poker. Finally I found a dish the appealed to me.
Seared Monkfish filets, with chestnuts:
Fennel, sautéed in fresh butter, served with blanched fig leaves, and a white Bordelaise sauce.
The meal now settled. I concentrated on the wine list. I prefer reds to whites, but for this meal I wanted something white, dry, and vibrant.
I selected a three year old Pouilly Fum´e, signaled the tuxedoed waiter that I was ready to order.
When the Sommelier arrived with the wine and it was opened and the first glass had been tasted. He bent down and whispered in my ear.”Monsieur, vous et J.R. from Dallas?”I smiled at the thought and having been asked the same question twice since my arrival. I could not help myself; I answered him in the same confidential whisper. “No, but J.R. Ewing is a very close personal friend of mine.”
To be Continued

Here is a new painting, for lack of a better name I call it "My Landscape".
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"What a large volume of adventures may be grasped within this little span of life by him who interests his heart in everything"-Lawrence Sterne
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