Chimps Like Us

Joshua Kim of Inside Higher Ed created a list called “33 Signs You Are an Ed Tech Nerd.” In the interest of science, and because I recently started a Master’s program in Learning Design & Technology, I am posting my answers and score below.

1. I knew that MOOCs did not start with some Artificial Intelligence guys at Stanford. I did not know, however, that apparently this was a thing. Do people simply come to believe it on their own because of the popularity of a particular MOOC on AI from Stanford, or because the Stanford guys laid claim to starting MOOCs? (Awarding myself 0.5 a point)
2. I do not have any opinion about the WebCT interface, because I have never seen it. Let me go check it out. Ah. I see, it’s a Blackboard thing. Well, I assume this item refers to the interface used by instructors, rather than students, but I have never seen it. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 0.5 points)
3. I do not curate a display of my old hardware in my office, but I do take the reference to “curate,” and I do have all of my old computers and cell phones arranged in a scattershot manner at home. (Awarding myself 0.5 a point; Running tally = 1 point)
4. I have not made myself any sort of promises of planning a conference, but I can certainly appreciate the value of power strips everywhere. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 1 point)
5. I do not have fond memories of hanging out with people at a Moodle or Sakai event, because I have never been to one. If this were about hanging out with people via a Twitter chat, I could’ve answered Yes. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 1 point)
6. I neither understand the difference between “lecture capture” and “presentation capture,” nor do I have strong opinions about them. I did watch a recording of a class yesterday that made the distinction between “lecture” and “instruction.” So I’ve got that going for me. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 1 point)
7. I have not worked with an instructor to incorporate Twitter, Flickr OR Pinterest into a class, much less all of them at once. I did once consider integrating a Twitter plug in into a Captivate course, but that’s as far as I took it. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 1 point)
8. I’m not sure what “open education” is, neither did I know Thomas Friedman made comments about higher ed. Also, I am not on a campus. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 1 point)
9. Multi-tenant cloud architecture? Sounds like one of those things a phrase generator comes up with. I do know what the cloud is. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 1 point)
10. Michael Chasen? Never heard of him. Did he die? Is that why no one can dance with him at Blackboard World? (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 1 point)
11. I remember Macromedia’s e-learning products, but I never used them. I used a product called Quest back in the day, in lieu of Authorware. Any of my Quest peeps out there? (Awarding myself 0.5 a point; Running tally = 1.5 points)
12. I’m not bitter about not having come up with “flipped classroom,” as I’m not sure it’s entirely a good idea for the people I teach. I have trust issues. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 1.5 points)
13. I have never been on the EDUCAUSE vendor floor. In fact, until I started doing some research for the draft of a paper I turned in this week, I had never heard of EDUCAUSE. Why do we spell it in all caps? Is it an acronym? (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 1.5 points)
14. I do not know what the IMS e-learning standards are. Let me look them up to see if I give a damn about them. Oh, I see. Has to do with trading information between LMSes and such. I can certainly see why people would get all agita over this, but I don’t use an LMS at present, so I’ll leave the worrying to others. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 1.5 points)
15. I rarely think Wikis are a good idea, but I should probably re-think this.  (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 1.5 points)
16. I have not been on the Education channel for YouTube, but thanks for the tip.  If they have Sir Ken Robinson’s TED talks on there, I can at least say I’ve seen those. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 1.5 points)
17. Pretty sure I have never used the phrase “small pieces loosely joined,” or the word “interoperability.”  (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 1.5 points)
18. I do not have an external keyboard for my iPad, and I did not have a Palm Pilot . I am/was poor.  (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 1.5 points)
19. There was no #19 on the list. Not sure if this is some sort of math test that somehow also correlates to being an Ed Tech Nerd. (Awarding myself 0.5 a point; Running tally = 2 points)
20. Don’t think I’ve ever participated in an event that overwhelmed a WiFi access point. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 2 points)
21. I don’t know who Stephen Downes or Daphne Koller are, but I’m also not a coffee guy. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 2 points)
22. I do not know what ECAR stands for, and I don’t know what ELI stands for, unless it’s “Explain Like I’m,” which it probably is because I could really use the points. (Awarding myself 0.5 a point; Running tally = 2.5 points)
23. I have used the term WYSIWYG, but not “WYSIWYG editor,” and I’ve never said it to a faculty member. (Awarding myself 0.5 a point; Running tally = 3 points)
24. I’ve just recently come across the term “disruptive innovation.” I can certainly imagine how this would be overused. (Awarding myself 0.5 a point; Running tally = 3.5 points)
25. Have I seen an instance of the Horizon Report? Maybe once, by coincidence. Can’t say that I’ve sought it out. Is it the kind of thing you read for the pictures? (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 3.5 points)
26. I do not have any opinion about “open source” vs. “community source,” as I have never heard of the latter. Seems like the kind of thing condo board members would argue about. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 3.5 points)
27. I do not have the Canvas app (don’t even know what it is), but I do have the Blackboard app, but it’s on my Android device, not an iOS one. Do Ed Tech people not realize the superiority of Andriod over iOS? Also, although I have the Blackboard app, I do not use it because it costs money and I am poor/cheap. Despite not using it, I have not uninstalled it because I am lazy, and have convinced myself that someday they will grant access for free. (Awarding myself 0.5 a point; Running tally = 4 points)
28. Don’t think I know any of the interesting e-learning people from Australia, but I look forward to learning about/meeting them. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 4 points)
29. I know who Michael Feldstein is! Well, I read one of his blog posts that I cited in that paper draft I wrote. I have not heard of Phil Hill, but cool people are neat. (Awarding myself 0.5 a point; Running tally = 4.5 points)
30. I know what Desire2Learn is, but I did not realize it was based in Canada. Also, I thought everyone hated their own LMS; why would I want to hang out with the people who design them? Is Desire2Learn an exception to this rule? (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 4.5 points)
31. Other than embedded advertising, I have no ideas on how to monetize a MOOC. (Awarding myself 0.5 a point; Running tally = 5 points)
32. I am not aware of all the contexts in which “active learning” has been used, but I will keep an eye out for it. (Awarding myself 0 points; Running tally = 5 points)
33. Pretty sure my family does not understand the details of what I do. Perhaps because I’ve told them I teach accounting to dolphins. (They love wearing the little visors and some half-glasses!) (Awarding myself 1 point; Final tally = 6 points)

Will this be scored on a curve?

Fans of this blog often write to me and say, “Hey, why didn’t you call this place ‘Volcano of Poop?'” That’s a point well taken, but unfortunately not one I have time to explore today. Instead, I thought I’d review all of the summer movies I haven’t seen.

Between the usual summer social engagements, the ongoing work of training and tending to our puppy (Gemma), and the nearly non-stop effort I put into ignoring any and all yardwork, I simply haven’t had the time to see all the movies I’d planned to this summer. For those of you who find yourselves similarly overwhelmed with everyday life, here are recaps of each of them:

This is the End

A hilarious, bawdy romp through a dystopic episode in which the world is being rent asunder by mysterious forces. The movie marks Seth Rogen’s initial foray from the director’s chair. A collection of comedians, including Jonah Hill, Aziz Ansari, Danny McBride, Craig Robinson and Michael Cera battle to survive by smoking pot and eating cereal.

SPOILER ALERT: In a twist at the end, the camera spins around to show Rogen devouring his director’s chair in an uncontrollable fit of munchies.

Now You See Me

This thrill ride stars Jessie Eisenberg and Woody Harrelson as the leaders of a band of magicians who rob a bank. But get this: the bank they rob isn’t even in the same city they are! And then they give away the money to the crowd they’re entertaining, because if you can do it once, you can probably get away with it again, right? Mark Ruffalo plays an FBI agent hot on the group’s trail. But during an interrogation, Eisenberg’s character throws the handcuffs he was locked in onto Ruffalo’s character  and he just says, “Welp, I gave it a shot.”

SPOILER ALERT:

At one point in the movie, Isla Fisher’s character refers to Common as “Kanye.”

Monsters University

This animated film is a prequel to Disney Pixar’s 2001 Monsters, Inc.  It follows the familiar duo of Sully and Mike Kozlowski through their adventures in college. Since we don’t know for how long Sully and Mike have been out of college in the original film, it’s not clear when this movie is set. Given the caricatures of FDR, Hitler, Stalin and Churchill who make cameos as professors, though, it would appear to be the early 1940s.

SPOILER ALERT: In a twist at the end, Henry Kissinger is transformed into a real boy.

World War Z

Another end-of-the-world flick, this one traces the misanthropic wanderings of Brad Pitt as a husband and father desperate to escape his family, but beset by the worst kind of  luck. He leads them to the roof of their apartment building to throw them off, there’s a helicopter he has to pretend he arranged for them to go on a ride. He takes them on a cruise to lose them in a crowd of strangers, there’s Frank and Sally from next door to keep them company all week. He tries taking a plane that blows up mid-flight, a parachute hits him in the head on the way down. Can a brother get a break!?!? Eventually, Pitt moves to Russia, figuring no one in their right mind would want to go there.

SPOILER ALERT: In a twist at the end, Pitt is eaten by his zombified family. His final words are, “I’ll take it.”

Despicable Me 2

Another animated film, this movie is a sequel to 2009’s Me Too, which was not animated and followed the story of a recent college graduate with Down’s syndrome who befriends a bar-hopping tramp. Some would consider this cartoon follow up that focuses on the potential reform of a criminal mastermind too great a departure from the original, but I found it easy to follow. Stars Steve Carell and Kristen Wiig.

SPOILER ALERT: The town’s fire department, run by dildo-shaped morons who are two feet tall, is surprisingly competent.

The Lone Ranger

A long-awaited blockbuster starring Johnny Depp as Tonto, and Armie Hammer as the title character. The movie was largely panned by critics, but audiences were not as harsh, perhaps because they spent most of the time convincing themselves that they had seen Hammer in something before and he is well known and definitely the best choice you could make for a $250 million production. Hammer and Depp battle a runaway train, which they defeat by blowing up a bridge.

SPOILER ALERT: In a twist at the end, a brawl breaks though a studio wall and takes over the set of Liberace, which was filming at the same time.

Pacific Rim

This special-effects dynamo is set in the near future, when giant remote-controlled robots are called on to fight Godzilla. (They fight him in the ocean. That’s why it’s “Pacific” Rim, get it?) The movie stars that one guy from The Wire, and a bunch of nobodies you ever heard of. The robots have rocket blasters in the heels of their feet.

SPOILER ALERT: In an effort to fill time and create an engaging backstory at the beginning of the film, the movie’s hero is seen performing his previous occupation, in which he tests toilets by stuffing  as many hoagies down them as he can while still being able to flush. He gets laughs from the other factory workers by quoting Schopenhauer.

When Opus first came home with me in January 2003, we shared a one-bedroom apartment in Chicago’s Ravenswood neighborhood. Opus took his time exploring our bachelor pad, and eventually joined me in the living room. A six-month old, tri-color beagle, he helped himself up onto the couch as I watched him from the loveseat. As I debated whether this was a good precedent to set, he walked over to the arm of the couch closest to me, put his front paws up on the arm, and emptied his bladder.

Eventually, Opus learned to behave on the couch

Opus was discovered by my wife (then girlfriend) in Champaign-Urbana, IL, where she was serving an externship. I was visiting a friend in Ohio over MLK weekend when she excitedly called me to tell me she had found the perfect dog for me. She’d long known I loved beagles, and had met Opus while volunteering at the Humane Society. At the time, Opus was going by the name “Danny,” but he was so not a Danny. We arranged to adopt him immediately.

The inspiration for Opus’ name was the hapless but earnest cartoon penguin with the oversized schnozz drawn by Berke Breathed, from his comic strip “Bloom County.” Opus’ snout was a bit longer than a typical beagle’s, so the name seemed apt. Nearly everyone who met him, though, thought he was named for the movie “Mr. Holland’s Opus,” which always confused me, but he was certainly a piece of work.

When Opus was young, I would take him to Winnemac Park for our morning walks. On Sundays, other dog owners would gather and let their dogs play together. It was a great opportunity for Opus to become socialized to other dogs and people, and he loved both his entire life. Although he was one of the smallest dogs there, he would still chase after every ball thrown with the rest of the pack. And even if he wasn’t the first to the ball (he almost never was), he would still try to take it out of the mouth of another, bigger dog. This seemed to confuse them, and he always came away with the ball. He’d then use his greater maneuverability to avoid having to give back the ball for as long as he could.

Our first health scare with Opus came when he was just a year old. We had since moved to a three-bedroom apartment with my wife and her two cats. He had epilepsy, which caused him occasional seizures and is not uncommon in beagles due to them being overly inbred. We managed to control the seizures with medication, but we always had to show vigilance in monitoring his dosage.

Opus loved his toys, particularly stuffed animals and other toys with a squeaker inside. We referred to these as Opus’ binkies, since they could pacify and occupy him for a while. He seemed to think the objective of those toys was to chew the squeaker until it could squeak no more, then rip open the toy and pull out all of the stuffing. It became an obsession of his, and in time he was able to destroy one of these toys in about 15 minutes. Eventually, we realized it was simply wasteful to buy these for him, so no more binkies for Opus.

Opus with his original binkie

One time, my wife and I brought him and his cage over to an aunt’s house to stay for the night. The aunt had dogs of her own, and a surplus of toys to go with them. At one point, she lost track of Opus, and couldn’t find him in the house despite repeatedly calling his name. Eventually, she spotted him. He had climbed into the toy bin, and buried himself among the toys. Satisfied he was OK, she left the room. When she returned a while later to check on him again, she discovered that he had moved every toy from the bin to the back of his cage.

Opus learned several tricks in his 11 years. His favorite trick was going outside to tinkle, then demanding a treat from me for doing so. He would pull this about 14 times each night. Another trick was him jumping up on my lap after he had eaten his dinner, receiving proper adulation and petting from me, then jumping down and barking for a treat for letting me give him a hug. He also taught himself some sort of Pavlovian response involving guests coming over to our house, all of us going to the basement for some reason or another, and him taking a poop on the floor. Could’ve done without him showing off that one as often as he did.

As my wife pointed out a couple of days ago, Opus was more than just our first dog; he was a bridge between the first and second generations of the pets we’ve cared for. He is the only animal to have known every other animal we’ve adopted. He was always a good brother to them, including Gemma, our latest addition. Gemma is a 14-week old black lab, who adored Opus even though she knew him for just a month. Opus would patiently allow her to lick his face and nip at his ears, and when she rolled over on her back to play with him, he would push her around the hardwood floors with his nose. He knew she loved it.

Opus was also a fan of Gemma’s because of the binkies we bought for her. Despite suffering from liver failure, Opus still had the energy to confiscate these for himself. On his last full day Opus was in the backyard sunning himself, while chewing softly yet persistently on a purple cow. The squeaker had long since been silenced. We miss you, Opus. Thanks for everything you did and were.

Last night, I went with some friends to The Moth’s GrandSLAM event at the Park West in Chicago. The Moth, as it’s tagline notes, is “true stories, told live.” The five-minute stories are told by amateurs, and the stories must be non-fictional accounts of something from their own life.

The GrandSLAM  is a collection of winners from their semi-monthly StorySLAM events. It’s a great time, and I highly recommend going if you ever have a chance. That said, I do have a couple of notes and points of critique I’d like to share, in the interest of improving the experience for both storyteller and audience. 

1. Each event has a theme; last night’s theme was “Worlds Colliding.” Some of the stories, frankly, had nothing to do with worlds colliding. Believe me, I tried to make the connection. Wasn’t there. 
2. I know some (most?) will disagree with me, but I did not particularly like the more animated storytellers. To me, the point of the event is not to put on a show or give a performance; you are there to tell a story. So tell the story. Forget about the histrionics, the physical work and the overwrought emotions. If you have a truly great story to tell, it will come through your words. Let’s not reward people simply for being dramatic. 
3. The Moth’s website is a terrific resource, and I particularly appreciate the opportunity to hear other tales from storytellers I enjoyed at the GrandSLAM. What I’d like is to be able to make a donation directly to those individuals. Not that I’m opposed to making a donation to The Moth generally, but considering that the amateurs are the ones who are providing the content and the bulk of the entertainment, I’d prefer to give directly to them. Perhaps this isn’t possible given the non-profit registration of the organization, but it would be a great option if available.
4. The storytellers’ names were drawn randomly to determine who speaks when at each event. This is certainly egalitarian, but for the sake of putting on the best show possible and rewarding your audience for their patronage, it would be an improvement to arrange the storytellers in a lineup that has the likely stronger participants going last. This might be possible only at the GrandSLAM events, once the storytellers have been observed at the StorySLAM events. At last night’s event, for instance, the best storyteller (Steve Zimmer) was the last one to speak before intermission. That was fortuitous timing. It would have been terrible to have him lead off the night, and then have it turn out that every other participant was a little bit worse than him. 

Summing up, The Moth is a lot of fun, and I look forward to attending more of their events. They host events in a number of cities around the country, and I encourage you to look up whether you might have the same opportunity. 

Warning: Epic rant to follow

Last Friday I played in the worst-run poker tournament I’ve ever been a part of. I was leery of the charity event before it even started, and expected it to go a bit rough, but it went far beyond any similarly poorly run tournament in which I’ve played. I’ve played in tournaments that sat 12 players to a table (not enough dealers to handle the volume, you see, and not enough restraint on the part of the organizers to turn away money from people who wanted to buy in), tournaments where players openly shot angles, tournaments where organizers shorted the prize pool and arbitrarily eliminated blind levels. This was worse than all of those. Combined.

The event was hosted by a church near me, and was run by members of the parish. When I first heard of it, I initially dismissed the idea of playing, because I thought it would be too poorly organized to be worth my time and money. Later I learned that this was the third or fourth year the event had been held. Not bad, I thought. They’ve had time to work out the kinks and it might actually go fairly smoothly.

The tournament was advertised as a $100 buy in, with a first place prize of a trip for two to Las Vegas (three days, two nights). Second and third place prizes would also be awarded, but the flyer didn’t disclose what they were. Yeah, obvious red flag there. Would you like some more? The flyer did not advertise the structure, the size of the starting stack, or the length of the blind levels. Probably be a crapshoot, I figured. I would not be disappointed in that expectation.

I prepaid for the event, and walked in to register about 15 minutes before the scheduled start. The woman who organized the event asked if I wanted to buy the add-on. Add-ons in tournaments aren’t uncommon, though this one wasn’t advertised. Typically, you pay 5% more for 15-20% more chips. It’s hard to say no to that kind of bargain. For this tournament, players were given 3,000 chips to start (not many), but for an add-on that was 25% of the buy in, you would receive an additional 1,500 chips. Here, you’d be at a huge disadvantage if you didn’t pay for the add-on.

Surveying the room, I saw a woman coaching the volunteer dealers how to do their job. Not a good sign. I also overheard the woman talking to the man serving as tournament director (TD) about the blind levels. He planned to start them at 50-100, rather than the more typical 25-50. He also planned to double them every 20 minutes. I mentioned shortly after that to the woman that the blinds really should start at 25-50. She talked to the tournament director, and he agreed to do so. At least I won that one.

As the time for the tournament approached, I noticed a conspicuous lack of players. As it turned out, the tournament was starting 30 minutes later than advertised. Would’ve been nice to know that, as I rode my bike straight from the train station to the tournament, rather than going home first and driving back. Oh well, a small loss.

Finally the tournament was ready to begin. Time for some more red flags. They used a projector to put the blind levels up on a wall, but instead of using some free Poker Clock-type software, the tournament director created a PowerPoint presentation that simply displayed the blind level in white letters on a black background, and it was timed to move to the next slide every 20 minutes. Good gravy. We’d have no idea how much time was left in each level, what the next blind levels would be, no count on the number of players remaining, no alarm when one minute was left in a level or when levels changed. You just had to hope someone looked up and noticed that they changed.

Oh, and during the pre-game announcements, I learned it was a rebuy tournament as well. Would’ve been nice to know that before I bought in to the event. So at what point did your chipstack have to decline to before you could rebuy? According to the tournament director, “about 250-ish.” WTF? I have to lose more than 90% of my stack before I can rebuy? Normally you would rebuy if you dipped below the starting stack, or maybe 50% below it at worst. This was insane. So players would have to rebuy for $100, right? Nope, just $25. Well, then you would only get 750 chips, right? That’d be 25% of a starting stack, to match the rebuy amount. Nope. Players rebuying would receive 2,000 chips. Hey, no big deal, as there would also be another 1,500 chip add-on players could buy after the first break.  You would be able to buy that add-on no matter how many chips you had at the time.

The tournament director also made a comment/rule announcement about bets needing to be in increments of the big blind. This confused me, as it sounded like he was describing a limit tournament. I asked aloud to confirm that it was, in fact, a no-limit game. The TD said Yes, he just wanted to let everyone know that they had to bet at least the amount of the big blind. This distinction will come into play later as well.

As it turned out, the tournament director was doubling as the dealer for my table. I asked how they were going to determine which seat the button started in. The dealer/TD asked the table if they wanted to draw for it. They declined. What?!? I explained that each table had to start with the button in the same seat. “Why?” he asked. Head smack. This needs to be explained, really?

How about balancing the tables, how would that be handled? After all, if you’re moved from one table to another, you shouldn’t have to pay the blinds twice. He shook his head and said it didn’t matter, because every table played at a different speed. The look on my face must’ve betrayed my exploding brain, because he conceded that he would try to move players to the same spot at the table they moved to. I just gave up on the matter at this point.

OK, time for some actual poker action. My starting table was playing fairly passive; no one wanted to raise pre-flop. Quite often, players weren’t even sure at showdown what they had and needed to have it pointed out to them. (This will also come into play later.) The following hand, which took place in the 50-100 level, particularly illustrates how things went at the tournament. Initially, three denominations of chips were being used: 25, 100 and 500. During the hand in question, four players limped in. On the flop, one player bet 300, using three 100 chips. The next player folded, and the next player tossed in one 500 chip, without saying anything. Before the next player acted, I pointed out that the player who tossed in the 500 chip had just called, not raised.

This brought a series of questions and complaints, including from the dealer/TD. Sigh. I explained that when you throw out one oversized chip, it’s a call and not a raise. The player who threw out the 500 chip said he wanted to raise. In that case, I noted, he would have to bet at least 600. Once again, the table looked at me as if I had three heads. If the first player’s bet is 300, I explained, then the minimum amount another player could raise is 600 (a simple double of the original raise), not 500. The dealer/TD waived off my complaints by saying, “That’s not how we’re playing.” That’s not how we’re playing??!?! We’re not exercising basic math skills? Players can raise to any arbitrary amount?? So the 500 “raise” stood, and the other player and the initial bettor folded.

The event featured an open bar, of which many players (and at least one dealer) took liberal advantage. The player to my left, like most of the other players in attendance, was a novice and not overly familiar with the rules of a poker tournament. In one hand during the 100-200 level, he was the small blind but departed the table for the bar while the hand was being shuffled. The action quickly folded to me on the button, and I raised. The dealer/TD mucked the small blind’s cards, and the big blind folded as well. As the dealer was collecting the mucked cards, the small blind returned to the table and loudly asked where his cards were. The dealer explained that his cards had been mucked since he wasn’t at the table. He was apoplectic. How could his small blind be stolen like that?!? His cards were irretrievable, but that’s a moot point. He demanded that he be given back his small blind. No way, I said. If we do that, then everyone can just get up to leave when it’s their turn to pay the blinds and never have to pay them. His protestations went on, holding up the action. “C’mon man, this isn’t Vegas! This is a church! You shouldn’t do that!!” The dealer/TD told me to give him back his small blind. I couldn’t believe it. This kind of absurdity was unprecedented. I just shook my head and handed him back the chip, steaming. At this point, there were no rules.

In the very next level, the player to my left, who was so desperate to conserve a single 100 chip a few minutes earlier, called all in for his tournament life on the turn. He was on a draw. He had two overcards and a gutterball straight draw to his opponents’ pocket 5’s. The river brought one of the two remaining 5’s, and the rest of the table erupted. The player to my left stood up to congratulate his opponent. Just one problem: the 5 was the gutterball he needed for his straight. Neither he, nor anyone else at the table saw that he had won. I pointed out the straight, and suddenly I was his best friend in the whole world. More headshaking.

Coming back from break, players started to fall quickly due to the escalating blinds. As expected, the tables were not balanced. Some tables had seven players, others five and one had four players. Finally, the table with four players was broken, and the players sent to other tables. The dealer/TD then handed off dealing responsibilities to another dealer. As we lost players ourselves, I had to explain to the new dealer and other players how the blinds and button should be passed when there was an empty seat due to a player busting out.

Eventually, I made it to the final table, along with seven other players. (We were playing eight handed all night.) The TD apparently hadn’t anticipated the tournament lasting this long, as he had run out of slides with new blind levels. When we arrived at the final table, the TD announced that we would play, oh, two more hands at the current level, then the blinds would go up. At this point, it was close to 11:15 p.m. The players had been drinking all night, and our dealer was bombed, and asking for more whiskey.

At one point, the dealer announced that blinds were 4,000-8,000, even though the board clearly showed 3,000-6,000 and we had just played the last two hands at 3,000-6,000. Fortunately, sense prevailed and the blinds weren’t suddenly raised. With the blinds so high, players dropped rapidly and I soon found myself among the final three players. The dealer finished the glass of whiskey he had been brought.

So what about those prizes for second and third place? The organizer decided that the second place player would be allowed to choose from the other two prizes: gift certificates for dinner and a movie, or a basket of about 12 different bottles of alcohol. Remember, I rode to the event on my bike. Not only did I not want the basket of booze, I had no way to get it home if I finished third. Meanwhile, the dealer complained about how little booze had been in the last glass he had been brought. “They couldn’t have given me any more than that?!” he cried.

I finished in third place, and had to sweat the heads-up battle between a young player and a middle-aged guy. After they played just three hands, the dealer complained to the TD that they were just passing chips back and forth. The TD decided to double the blinds the next hand. A few hands later, not more than five minutes, the younger player doubled up, and suddenly the blinds were doubled again.

Finally, the middle aged guy won and fortunately for me the younger guy took the basket of booze. Obviously, I’ll never play this tournament in the future. I haven’t even mentioned to this point the fact that every hand involved table talk from not only the players, but the dealers/TD as well. It was a bizarre, surreal experience; a bastardization of a poker tournament. Even players who didn’t know what to expect deserved better than they got. Well, at least their drinks were free. And I think they’re going to put my picture in the bulletin.

/rant