Land of Enchantment

I pulled into Ruidoso about 10pm after dropping Maggie off at an old friends house. No dogs allowed at The Inn of the Mountain Gods. The boys were probably just settling into the Casino, so I checked into the resort. They had left a room key for me, so I went upstairs to drop my stuff off before I took off to find them. As I was walking down the hall, I smelled this horrible odor emanating from the door of my room. Just great! I open the door and found Rodney inside smoking a joint.

"Rodney, what the hell are you doing, man? Jeez that stuff stinks."

"It's for my glaucoma. Prescription. heeheehee." Rodney was stoned and probably drunk. Whatever man.

"Bullshit, how in the hell? When did you start smoking weed?"

"I done tole you its for my glaucoma. Dr. Barnes gave me a prescription for it and I'm supposed to smoke weed now. heeeheeehaaw. Can you believe that? Heheheehaaw."

Rodney didn't fool me. He looked older than his age, but he damn sure didn't have glaucoma. Rodney was a rough and tumble good ole boy through and through. It's doubtful he had been out of Lubbock but 5 times in his life, and at least 3 were trips with the gang to Ruidoso, and that might as well be Lubbock on the weekends. He loved two things in this life. His son and his friends.

Rodney regaled us with stories at the bar on Tuesday nights. Cleaned up the next night and never failed to have dinner with his teenage son. My favorite recount was when Rodney spiked the brownies in his high school Home Economics class with marijuana.

"the assignment was the meal had to include differnt colors. We HAD GREEN! hehheehaw. Them girls sure did liike me."

I immediately started to think of that while I tried to muddle through the weed smell. His favorite saying about Lubbock is,

"I remember when you could be drivin down Quirt Ave hopped up on qualuudes, and nobody would say nothin."

Those must have been the good old days. You did it now, you were being watched on the big brother light camera. Rodney hadn't messed with those things since then and I was worried he might drift back into the drug use. I guess Dr. Barnes fixed that for him.

"Damn it Rodney, why dont you go sober up so we can go have some fun."

"I'm having enough fun right here, hell I dont gamble anyway. I'm just going to stay here and drink some pre-paid beers."

'Pre-Paid Beers' is another Rodney euphemism. If he has beer in his 30 year old Styrofoam Shlitz cooler, they were deemed pre-paid beer. Any other beer is bought from a bar and put on a tab, therefore it isn't paid for yet.

"Go for it bro..Chief and Ron downstairs?"

"Yep, as soon as we got in Chief ran over to the roulette wheel, put a five hunnert on red and hit it. Heeheehaaaw. That Chief, he is somethin else. He hadn't even been to the room, paid an Indian to take his shit up for him. I guess we'll see him tomorrow fer lunch. heeheehaaw."

"Well, I'll go down and see if he has his house deed up for action. Check ya later, and lay off the doobage, I'd like to sleep tonight."

"Alright man. Ya'll call me if you get soom women goin down thare."

I took a trip through the Casino and spotted Ron at the bar. He had a throng of people around him. He knew every single persons name and introduced me to them all, recited where they worked, and gave me the rundown on their marital status and sometimes even knew what their parents did for a living. Ron had a mind like a steel trap when it came to knowing people from Lubbock.

"Dude, what took you so long? Where the fuck you been? I thought you were hauling ass!"

Ron, the Jetta aint no Mazzarati. I took my time and enjoyed the scenery."

Ron smiled, "I guess we could have done this for alot cheaper if we had just stayed home. Everybody is always from Lubbock."

"Yes, France has the Riviera, L.A. has Palm Springs, New York has the Hampton's, and Lubbock has a shithole Indian Casino in the mountains of New Mexico."

"Good times." Ron was feeling no pain and just happy to be in a bar.

"You going to gamble?" I already knew the answer to this question. In all of our trips to Ruidoso, Ron sat in the same seat at the bar munching on nachos, sipping on beers, and bullshitting with people.

"Hell no man, Damn Chief is going crazy and I can't roll with him. He talks me into crazy ass bets that he seems to win, but I never can. I might try tomorrow, but for now I'm just happy checking out the ass." Ron felt uncomfortable betting a quarter, much less his paycheck.

"Alright then, I'll go see if I can calm Chief down."

"Hold on dude, that chick Twila, she was at the bar last night with some big dude."

"Really, that was prolly Struts or Rex. No big deal. I forgot to call her. Damn."

"No man, this dude was huge and looked like he was...well, he was big and had a bunch of tattoos and muscles and shit. It wasn't those football players. They weren't with her. This dude was pissed off at Twila too. Kept yelling at her and kinda pushing her around. She came by and cussed me out because she couldn't find you. She looked like shit bro. She looked scared too. I don't know what the story is, but you might want to steer clear of her for a while. That guy was scary."

I felt a cool chill down my body and also felt the jealousy creeping in again. "Really? Man Ron, you might be right about staying away. But I just don't think I can do that now."

"You like her? Oh shit Russ. I have seen this before. Don't go off the deep end with this one. Twila is trouble bro. I'd find someone else more your speed."

I sat down and had a shot with Ron in silent thought. He was right. I do go off the deep end and chase women I shouldn't have any business being with. But he knew that despite his warning. I was going to chase her anyway. I was hooked on Twila. I was scared for her too.

Even the losers, get lucky sometimes

Chief was at the craps table, looking haggard from a long day at work and even longer trip out west. He was like a moth drawn to light. Focused on every nuance of the action. Pen and paper in hand charting each and every roll and the tendencies of each roller. He doesn't sleep the entire time we are there, and only takes one break to have lunch with the gang at our favorite local eatery in town. Chief is amazing. If he sleeps, its because all of the dice tables are closed. I think that happened once during a renovation.

If I made up those fake motivational posters that can be found on the internet. I would photoshop a picture of Chief during a roll at a Dice table and the caption would read.

Gambling: Doing the same thing over and over again expecting positive results.

or better yet.

Tenacity: never quit until your broke.

But in the entire time I had known Chief, he was never broke. The guy oozed cash at all times. He could walk into a rigged card game and catch the miracle card to screw the shysters out of their stacks. He was remarkable. He paid every tab, bought every lunch, and picked up every hotel bill every time we were in Ruidoso. Otherwise, Ron, Rodney. and I would probably be back at the local tavern. I on the other hand was the anti-thesis of Chief at gambling. I lived for the pain.

"You want some of this!" Pointing at his huge chip stack of $25 greens, $100 Blacks, and $500 pinks.

"Damn Chief, what the hell? How do you do this?"

"I go to church every Sunday and the Lord likes me, that's all it is." Grinning the grin of the charmed life.

I bellied up beside him, and he pushed me $500 in chips. "Start there and I will try and cover your losses." Laughing like he already knew the result.

"Not this time Chief, I'm going to heat up, I can feel it." I better, I guessed that the running tab I had with Chief over the last 8 years was something like $7000 or so. I had one hot streak in 2002 and left Ruidoso with $100 extra. But that was because I caught Montezuma's revenge after the first night of playing poker, and spent the rest of the weekend in the bathroom. Chief never asked me for repayment. I gave him money now and again, but he never seemed to care whether it was repaid. He really didn't. It wasn't about the money for Chief. He liked the action and thrill. He was a lucky person. If you have ever heard about lucky stories about slim odds gambling wins. Chief was the main character most likely.

Soon, it became Chief's turn to roll. He announced to the table. "Everybody better load up. I'm going to bust this joint in 45 minutes." Then a cheer came from the gamblers. Chief's exploits were known far and wide, and everybody did as he said to do.

On and on for 45 minutes like Chief said he would. He hit point after point. He hit Hard eights, and loads of sevens and elevens at the right times. The pit bosses were gathering around in concern. You would think they would ban him, but they just couldn't. Somebody had to win. Inside 20 minutes a crowd was gathering and pushing chips into the middle. It would take the dice crew 30 to 60 seconds to pay off the bets after each roll. The table looked like a rainbow mountain range. All around it were people so happy, they were screaming and moaning in orgasms of greedy delight. It was Chief's creation. He never smiled or stooped to admire his creation. He was the artist and we were the visitors seeing his art while it was being made.

I seriously began to question my aversion to Christianity by the 40th minute of Chief's triumphant roll. The Himalayas of chips were now mounted on this one roll. Sweat was beading from his brow. I screamed at people.

"NOBODY FUCKING TOUCH HIM!"

He looked at me without smiling, glee of chips on the table reflected off his deep green eyes. I loved him I thought. Then he said.

"This is IT Russ, get it in now!"

He looked at me, but I just couldn't. I had made $2,000 on this long roll and I just couldn't give it all back on this one. I thought to myself, it has to end sometime. So I kept my same bets out there as is and he coolly lifted his eyes off me and said.

"The point is eight people, one time, HAAARRRRD EIGHT!" Chief had $1,000 alone on that space on the table. He had pressed his bets up each time he had hit that number in that way. The dice flew in the air and the boss screamed the call over the hush of the crowd.

HARD EIGHT!!!!!

The next morning, I awoke to the sounds of Rodney laughing with Ron. The two of them were sitting watching an old Sanford and Son rerun with the television up full blast.

I said through the bed spread. "Damn boys, turn that up, is this the one where Lamont gets married?"

Ron said, "What's up fucker! Now this is the one where Fred fakes a heart attack. HAHAHA!"

Rodney chimed in, "Well. well, well, the big gambler is awake."

Hungry again I said, "Let's get ready and go get Chief. I'm ready for some grill action."

Ron stated, "Damn that fucker Chief is still rollin dice. Didn't even come to bed again."

I said, "Let's go pull him off before he turns into pumpkin. He prolly needs some Juevos Rancheros with green chili and Chicken Fried Steak. I know I do."

Rodney said, "What the fuck is that. They got tacos thare?"

Ron replied, "Damn Rodney, we have been there before. Just get the same shit you always get. Oatmeal and Miller Lite. Breakfast of Champions."

Rodney started laughing, "Memeber that time ole Russ drank that bottle of ketchup cause he lost a bet to Chief. That was fuckin hilarious. heeheehaaw"

Ron laughing but still glued to the television. "Hey fucker, you goin to do that today?"

I stumbled off to the shower and caught a glimpse of those two glued to the television with pre-paid beers in hand. Must be good to be the king. "No, and it wasn't no bottle neither."

Both of them said in unison. "It damn sure was."

Lincoln County Grill

People just stared at him, patted his back, smiled, and mumbled as he walked by with racks of Pink and black in tow. Chief strode through the Casino like Mick fucking Jagger and Paul Newman in The Color of Money all rolled up into one man. All told it was a $17,000 score. Not his best but among the better in his trips out here. I knew there would be a bigger push for glory tonight and I looked forward to the show.

We were late by our standards for brunch, but Chief had to take a shower after it took him 20 minutes to cash out his chips at the cashier booth. The bulk of time he wasted was complaining at having to fill out an I.R.S. form because he won so much. Nice problem to have I thought. Next Chief stopped by the front desk, placed $5000 in an envelope, and then mailed it to his Baptist church in Lubbock at the Post office on the way to the feed.

We looked at him stunned, then he began his black football player impersonation and said, "Yeas, first of all, I'd like to thank Jesus Christ and my momma."

I didn't want to discuss my outcome last night as we ate, although it was favorable.

During our brunch at Lincoln County Grill, all ears were tuned to Chief as he recounted the high rolls and near misses. His goal wasn't to win. He wanted to someday walk in and bust that place. He longed for the moment he had the whole Casino, Reservation, and naming rights to every first born Mescalero Apache riding on one roll of his dice. Winning wasn't the point for him, that was too easy and he had far surpassed that expectation.

Chief calmed down a bit and inquired, "Hey Russ, how'd ya end up?"

"Well, after I paid you back, I had a 175 left over. So I won!" holding my hand clasped above my head in the Champions repose.

Ron and Rodney started laughing. Chief wasted no time in exposing my obvious scrub of the discontent.

"I told you what the roll was, and you never listen to me. You could have been up 10 g's. Instead you got $175. I think you better drink a bottle of ketchup for that."

Rodney was doubled up on the floor under the table laughing instantly.

Ron pushed the bottle over and said, "Drink up fucker!"

"That's right, everybody kick a man while he is down. Damn it, I need another fucking beer. Cocktails!"

The debauchery continued mostly at my expense for another 2 hours. Ron, Chief, and I treated ourselves to full New Mexican greasy cuisine that satisfies for hours but always leaves you craving more. Rodney, true to form had tacos and oatmeal that he barely touched. He made up for it in tab beer.

We stopped into a local convenience store so Rodney could replenish the Styro foam for his evening of Nick at Nite reruns in the $300 dollar a night suite. He came out of Allsup's with a 30 pack of Busch light tallboys.

"Busch was on sale, hell it's dollar fifty cheaper than the Strip."

Ron said, "What a bargain, fuck Rodney were on vacation, it's okay to live a little and splurge for some actual beer that tastes good."

Rodney just proudly stocked his indestructible cooler, he looked as if he had just won 17 grand.

To each, his own

I was so satisfied at that moment after lunch. Here I was in this beautiful place in the mountains and everybody around me was happy. Good times. Surely today is the one day that I can't lose. It must be so.

Chief and I decided to get our names on the poker waiting list. We passed the time with a massage while we sat at in chairs waiting for our turn to torture the other tourists at poker. At a dollar per minute, Chief dropped 100 bucks on the massages, but made up for it when he hit a small machine jackpot on a slot as a 4 foot Asian woman worked the tension out of neck. It ended up costing me $100, even though he paid for my massage labored on by a 6 foot Mescalero nicknamed 'Cheese'.

He was named that because he said, "everybody call me that because I'm always smiling. I'm also gay, but your not my type." Thanks for the biography.

It was the most tension building massage of my life after he said that. Chief added insult to injury and made me take a picture with 'Cheese". The he said, "you need to get over that. It's just wrong. I'm publishing this as your bio pic from now on." Chief knew exaclty how to expose me.

"Hey Dude, I'm not the gambling baptist liberal gay lover. I got issues and I'm working on them."

The poker boss was announcing our names to seat, and saved me from further outing. Chief patted me on the back and said, "Let's roll em up bro."

Hearts of a Champion.

Chief won the first 5 of 10 pots after we sat down at the 10-20 limit table. 3 times, I knew he was bluffing but was never able to get in a hand to bust his fraud. Within a couple of hours, Chief had a monster stack that he built into a replica of the Taj Majal. The Taj stood clear up to his adams apple and was as wide as the width of a basketball.

The other players were getting intimidated. Whenever they got the hand or the guts to call his bullying, he would inevitably show them a slightly better hand. It was a crushing display of skill. I, on the other hand, had had some moments of brilliance but whenever I made a move to increase my stack, the tourists were always quick to bust my bluffs.

One old man started cussing at Chief when Chief called on a pot with a busted straight draw, but won anyway with an ace high after the man missed his flush with no pair.

"How do you call that bet with nothing? You sumbitches get so lucky on me ever fuckin time. This is bullshit!"

"Sir, I just wanted to see what you had. I was donating to the poor there." Needling him into a fury. Chief was brilliant at games of skill and strategy.

"I didn't think I was goin to win that one. Whew, so glad you didn't have nothing." Chief knew he had nothing and that story about donating was just Chief playing coy.

The old man started pleading with Chief, "Well how in the hell are you so stupid to call when you got nothin. God damn motherfuckers."

"EXCUSE ME! I'm a what? I'm a what? Say it again! I fucking dare you!" Chief wasn't really mad, he just wanted to get the man's blood boiling so he would blunder further. Blood game this poker.

The floor men came over to broker Middle East peace, and asked what was going on. After that, it became a war. Everybody knew that Chief and I were friends. So the war spilled over onto me as well through the next 2 hours at the table. It was table of tourists versus the Lubbock Urban Achievers Bowling team. We lived for these moments and not for the action, but because we would later be impersonating these folks for months afterwards.

So it went, I went into hands looking for kills. This was no longer a game of bets and small raises. This was a game capped to the limit and spinning out of control. It was our game. We were always in control of the action, and they weren't. It was just a matter of time, some luck, and well mostly time.

Chief was well on his way to adding a terrace and administrative building onto his campus when we got into a huge pot with 3 other people gunning for us. That is when I finally made a score. I flopped the nut straight with a flush draw to boot, and the Chief with nothing, was doing all the raising for me. He didn't know what I had, but he knew it was good from the way I was betting. The turn card in this hold em hand made trip aces for this young surly college kid. He started cramming chips into the pot at a fury, but my straight to the 10 was still good. Little did we know, the old man had also flopped a set of 7's and was just calling and waiting for his chance to pounce on such a hug pot. Chief finally folded after the ace hit, lord knows that any hand above a pair of napkins looked like a winner to Chief.

One other player was chasing for a flush, but knew it was up to a prayer for her to make it and still be good. Finally the river brought another 7 on the board. Normally this would be a killer to my hand and make the straight nor the flush the best hand. But this one card was a miracle. The 7 of hearts made my hand the "nuts", as we say in poker. I had a 10 high straight flush, and it could not be beaten.

I didn't know exactly what they all had.The old man now had quad 7's. The college kid had Aces full of 7's, and the mother had the nut flush and all were no good. I open with a bet.

The old man raises and the college kid re-raises to $60 and announces stupidly, "only quads can beat me."

The mom wisely drops her hand in disgust.

The old man perks up and stupidly replies, "Well I guess your beat there punk, I got them 7's in the hole." The looks squarely at me and says, "That flush you got aint no good neither, but I doubt you got anything."

I said, "Well, I got a good hand sir and I bet you don't got no 7's in the hole. I re-raise." I make it $80.

The old man ponders his turn like an actor trying to win an Oscar. After what seemed like a minute of suspense, he states fast and with quick movement pushes his chips. "I cap it..hunnert..pay it off big boys."

The kid stares at the board in disbelief.

6h 7c 10h Ad 7h

"You got them 7's in the hole grandpa?...god damn it! I know that sumbitch dont have nothin."

From afar his dad is screamin, "you got aces full Butch, you got it! you got it! call! it's just 20 more."

Chief chimes in interrupting him. "I'll bet anyone here a grand that my boy has got the old man beat!"

I don't know how he knew I had the 8 and 9 of hearts in the hole. Suddenly from the crowd, the punks father, a high roller looking middle aged man with horses all over his shirt said. "Hell, I betcha two grand my boy has your boy beat."

Chief said firmly, "That's a bet, your the witnesses. Show me the money high roller! You want some of this grandpa!" Chief was flashing his huge roll of bills at him begging him for action.

The old man ponders only a second and says, "Damn straight asshole, I got your ass now! Make it two also?"

Chief looks at me a second, then says, "Done. Damn it Russ, I hope you got this."

The punk reluctantly says, "I call."

Before I call I take just a moment while everyone in the room is staring at me. I can't believe this is happening. The Chief is just looking at me and for a second gets that look of defeat in his eyes. I have never seen that before and it hurt me so much to see that look of disappointment. But really, I was just fucking with him for all the times I had been the whipping boy.

I look down, take my hands and peel one last look look at the cards. To my surprise and relief, they hadn't changed. I said,

"Call" and threw the chips in I knew were returning.

The old man jumped out of his chair, flipped over his two 7's and said, "I tole you I had it you sumbitches, WHEEE HEEE...SEND IT!!!"

The horse dad said, "Butch, just flip over them cards and I will get this man's money."

Sure enough, the college punk had Aces full.

I didn't slow roll, but I did take longer than usual. The Dealer was looking at me to flip and I just said to him, "Better call a doctor, I got the nuts."

The dealer says outloud, "Winner! Straight Flush to the ten! Wow!"

Chief stared to jump up and down like Tech had just scored the winning touchdown in the last second to beat OU in Norman, he was entrhalled.

"No asshole, that's damn straight flush!!"


All told, I took down a pot that was just under $1,000. Chief took down $3,000. The old man didn't end up having it all, and Chief admitted to me later he just wanted to bust him because of the cussing and name calling towards him earlier. Even so, no matter what, there is a lesson to be had here. Even if I catch a miracle, the Chief always wins bigger.


Side note: Chief's Church is located near the corner of 50th and Indiana, you can't miss it. It's the only one on the block built out of titanium.