Keller's NIght with Phil and Barb At the Ranch

Some of you may know that I have a low tolerance for alcohol. Phil and Barb know this. Clearly before I arrived at AIR they hatched a plan to tilt and destroy me.

Within minutes of parking my truck the con was on. Remember, I had just driven 1300 grueling miles across the untamed Idaho and Montana frontiers, a drive without reliable cell phone converge or drive-thru Starbucks, a drive without a good night’s rest thanks to the threat of Somalian copycats pirates.

After this duress, I am delighted to eat and drink delicious food and Indian-reservation wine. The effects of the 55 proof wine immediately take hold and Barb pounces. With her keen predatory timing, she refills my glass and suggests, “Some Chinese Keller?”

I hold up well for about six hours. Towards the end I am so tired and inebriated I start passing out. I should have turned in but didn’t want to be rude to the needy hosts. So I soldier on, at some points holding back tears.

During one snooze, I am startled awake by Phil’s booming voice, “Three more hands!”

It may have been a dream but I swear I saw Phil remove a deck from the leather chaps he prances around in up at the ranch.

I don’t care. I'm up 2 points and confident that I’d end this match with enough gas money to return home to sane folks back in Hollywood.

Thirteen cards are in front of me. I look at the cards and they make no sense. To quote Winston Churchhill, my hand was “a mystery wrapped in a riddle inside an enigma.” Consistent with my sleep deprived state of “I don’t care” I lay down my hand to the cackling chorus of Mr. and Mrs. Gordon’s “Mislay, mislay, hahahah Keller!!!” They high-five and start french-kissing.

This makes me uncomfortable so I doze off again, I think for about 20 minutes. When Barb nudges me awake I notice her messy ponytails, Catholic school-girl outfit, and yet another new deck of cards. I figured Phil had wiped a booger or farted on the last deck and that Barb had made him replace it. No worries. Last hand and I can sleep. Phil’s assistant had set up Rafe’s tent in the barn and I was eager to get inside it. Phil suggests that we double up. I decline. Barb pretends to decline. The con continues and I just give them what they want, desperate to get into that goat barn after my long and lonely drive. I agree and the cards are dealt. I look at my hand – a monster with sweep potential!

Nope. It's just a monster setup.

My pair of aces up front is notched by Phil’s pair of aces with King kicker. My KQT flush in the middle is double notched by Barb’s KQJ flush. My quad 8s are notched by Phil’s quad 9s and Barb’s quad 9s. Something seemed weird about this. Whatever. I lost 18 points in one hand and am forced to swim in an icy lake the following morning.

Beware of the AIR

-Keller