Poker Face

Like any person, there are some things in life that I enjoy (pizza, napping, karaoke, cats, porn) and some things that I do not (seafood, cars, digging ditches, guys with backwards baseball caps who travel in packs, Glee). There are also things that I enjoy the notion of (uhh... some personal stuff I won't go into here) and some things that I do not enjoy the notion of (getting a deep suntan, losing a finger in a meat grinder accident). Then there are things that I should enjoy the notion of, but do not enjoy either the notion or the actual act.

One of those things is poker.

I think, on the surface, I should enjoy poker. I enjoy doing math and it's more of a game of skill than the majority of gambling activities... and yet, I don't like it. I don't like losing money to people and I don't like taking the money of others. I'm not a competitive person, for the most part, either. All of this adds up to me not particularly enjoying the few times I've played and not being at all eager to play again any time soon.

One aspect of it that I do respect and find interesting, though? The notion of the poker face.

(I was hoping to quote some Lady Gaga here, but after reading the lyrics for "Poker Face," I have nothing.)

A poker face can extend beyond the game of poker, and that's why I love it. Compare that to, say, the lesser reach of "Super Mario Brothers hair" or the limited use of a "Yahtzee wrist" and you can see why I respect the poker face.

While my standard state of being is apathy, sometimes I can be roused to reaction by my surroundings. This can have potentially dangerous effects due to me being most interested in situations that are least healthy for me to be interested in.

That's super-abstract, I know. Let me give you a quick example before I get into the main reason I wrote the blog.

The other evening I was leaving work, walking through Capitol Hill on my way to my parked car. There was an older guy (maybe even as old as me!) having a smoke outside of his apartment, and three or four skater kids were right in the middle of some sort of confrontation with him. I didn't catch the beginning of it, but it went something like this:

Cigarette Smoker: Yeah, that's right. Keep walking.
Skate Punk #1: Shut up, old man.
Skate Punk #2: Yeah!
CS: Come over here and call me "old man."
SP#1: I'll knock out your fucking teeth.
CS: I'm sitting right here. Do it.
SP#1: I'll knock your fucking teeth into the back of your skull, old man!
CS: Don't walk away! Hey! Get over here!

I kept walking this whole time, but it was interesting. There was the threat of real violence, there was a very foul-mouthed kid who seemed to be saying different versions of the same thing over and over, and there was a very loud old guy who probably started it by being angry at skaterz for riding on the sidewalkz.

As I walked, and as I considered the threshold at which I would call the cops or otherwise intervene, I had to maintain a poker face. I didn't want to acknowledge it was happening, even as it was about 20 feet from me, because I didn't want to get sucked in. I had to observe without my observation being observed.

Because, after all, one of the last things I ever want to hear is, "What are you looking at?"

Where the poker face becomes especially valuable is when I'm out and about, late at night, in a neighborhood that I don't usually frequent. I ran into this situation over the weekend.

I had gone to Frontier Room with F-Bomb on Saturday night, and he had decided to duck out early. After a rum-inspired night of dancing and general carousing, and seeing a woman that I had obliquely referenced in my previous blog (she waved to me... I have no idea if she was being friendly or mocking), I decided to walk home.

The walk is a great way for me to (a) save a bit of money by not taking a cab, (b) work off a few of the calories that I racked up at the bar, (c) sober up a bit so I don't send any embarrassing emails or Facebook messages when I get back to my apartment, and (d) practice my poker face.

There is a stretch between the bars in Belltown and my place where a poker face is 100% vital to not getting my face pounded into a fine jelly.

Why? Because the scene is... not my scene. I am not making a racial statement when I say that it is far far more urban than I'm used to; in spite of my city-livin' ways, I still am the guy who had a graduating high school class of 30 and had a barn on his property as a kid. There are big groups of people just... standing around. Waiting.

Waiting for me to make a stupid face at them so they can ask me what I'm looking at? Perhaps. More likely, though, that they're waiting for ladies to walk by so they can, uh, interact with them.

And it is these interactions where my poker face is most critical. Most of the efforts of men are clumsy and, ultimately, unsuccessful. They are, as an impartial observer, also very funny to watch... but few guys want to be laughed at after getting shot down by a woman. And so I keep the dead eyes and the blank expression on my face.

I keep that look on my face even when a guy swoops up to two women walking by, says three words, and then swoops back away (shot down? Uglier than he'd thought? Dunno).

I keep that look on my face even when a pair of guys approach a pair of women who are standing with a guy. A guy who is not pleased that his women are getting hit on.

I keep that look on my face when a person in line for hot dogs complains loudly about how she hates hot dogs.

I keep that look on my face as I keep pace behind a group of people walking in front of me, including a very drunk, very attractive woman that is draped on a sub-average-looking guy... and I hear at least a half-dozen people standing on the sidewalk and/or walking the other way wonder what she's doing with him.

I don't WANT to keep that look on my face. I want to laugh--or at least smile--at these situations. I enjoy the notion of interacting, intelligently and honestly, with my surroundings, but I do NOT enjoy the notion of pissing off the wrong guy and losing any body parts as a result.

Can't read my, can't read my
No he can't read my poker face.

(OK. So I WAS able to put some Lady Gaga lyrics in here, after all...)