The curse of the rummy

I spent a delightful evening last night playing progressive rummy with a few friends. I stink at cards—I've got no game, no poker face, nothing—but I love it. I started early on, playing high card, blackjack, and poker with my brothers (John, who later became a card dealer in Reno, was a natural from birth). I could never seem to amass any cheap plastic chips for any length of time but I loved to play.

Not much has changed.

Last night I was as unlucky as ever, at least at first. Everyone else was laying down wild cards and sticking me with a full hand of aces and face cards. But I choked back the competitive beast within and tried to stay in the game with a smile on my face. I knew things had to turn around.

And they did. In the last two hands, everything was coming up deuces (the wild card de jour). I didn't end up winning, but the important thing is that I stayed in the game. Now I just need to find another one.