Guest Blogger

March 18, the morning after St. Patrick’s Day, and I’m up at 9am once again to take in the morning games. Eight hours of sleep in the last 49 hours. Priorities?

My old college friends head back home, and my friend Drew and I grab some donuts for breakfast. My friend Rico arrives in San Francisco at 11 a.m. and we hope into his car to drive down to Union Square. Waiting for us there is Lefty O’Douls, one of the cities oldest sports bars, it’s also a great place to grab a drink, a bite, and watch a game. We get there and I order a full plate of corned beef, cabbage, boiled potatoes, and a pint of Guinness. (This is the meal I should have had on St. Patty’s!)

A couple of my SF friends are waiting for us there and we join them at a table. It’s great to spend time with so many people that I see on such a random schedule with all my travel. I keep score of each game I predict correctly on my bracket sheet, which always looks like a ragged and frayed birth certificate by the time the championship game rolls around.

This continues for hours and I enjoy more brews as the day continues. An acquaintance of my friend Mallory, who has been eyeing me suspiciously throughout the afternoon eventually says, “Why are you drinking on a Sunday? Don’t you have work tomorrow?” I’m swallowing a gulp of Guinness as she says this and hold back laughter so I don’t spray out my mouth’s contents like a third-grader spurting milk from his nose. “I don’t have to work tomorrow,” I reply politely. “I actually don’t leave for my next business trip until Thursday.” She inquires further and I then give her my spiel about the World Poker Tour and Wise Hand Poker. What I really wanted to say, and what she really brought to light in my mind with her question was, “I don’t live in the 9-to-5 world, or by its rules, hallelujah!”

The games came to an end and it was time for Drew, Michelle, and I to make our way to North Beach. I decided it would be fun to take the most famous mode of travel in the city, so we hoped on a cable car. We then jumped off at the top of Lombard Street (the crooked street) and walked down to Michelle’s apartment. Attempt two to watch Boomdock Saints was met with in-and-out napping. Then we met some friends at Panta Rei in North Beach for dinner. I first learned of this restaurant from one of the cocktail waitresses at the Bellagio. Gary, Tony, and I had spoke with her about the place during long hours of coverage at the Five Diamond last December. Her boyfriend was the owner, so I was intrigued to dine there. The food was excellent, and afterwards we went across the street to the coolest candy store in the world. This place lets you sample whatever you want, for free. They’re also very loose about how much you can sample for free. I usually abuse the privilege, feel guilty, and buy something to support the store for their awesome policy. (I’ll say this much, Gary Wise should not be within 50 miles of this store during his bet to lose weight with Mark Newhouse and Gavin Smith).

Last on the agenda was Charlie Murphy’s stand-up routine at Cobb’s Comedy Club. I don’t even know how I’m still awake at this point, but I’m psyched to see the show, especially after bumping into him the night before. His first joke of the night hit home for me, so I’ll share it with you here: “You have no idea how many people run up to me and scream ‘Charlie Murphy’ at the top of their lungs. It doesn’t matter if it’s at a bar, a restaurant, or the airport. ‘Charlie Murphy!’ And you know what, that would bother a lot of people, but not me, nooooo. Because, for 18 f@!$ing years I was called Eddie Murphy’s brother. Even my own son called me Eddie Murphy’s brother one time, but that only happened once, if you catch my drift.”

After the show, Drew and I got a lift back to my apartment. Then Drew grabbed his stuff and left to drive back home to Oakland at 1 a.m. I have now been up for 57 of the last 63 hours. I had to pick up Megan from the Oakland airport that morning at 8:30 a.m. so I promptly collapsed on my bed.

Then my cell phone rang…

It was Drew and his truck had been towed. He was heading back up to the apartment and needed a ride back to school. Now I’m all about a helping a friend in need, but I did turn into to my pillow to muffle a scream of, COME ON, after I hung up the phone. At that point I decided to crash at Drew’s dorm for the night so I could avoid a treacherous morning crossing of the Bay Bridge. By the time we got across the Bay and settled at Drew’ school I didn’t get to sleep until 3 a.m. When I woke up at 8 a.m. Monday morning to rush off to Oakland International Airport I had slept 12 of the previous 72 hours.

Does anyone have a pillow?

Ryan ‘Force’ Lucchesi
force@wisehandpoker.com