The Battle of Mini-Bac!

26 May 2022

By Royal Flushes

CINDY: News is usually bad news. When many of us write about casinos, it is fun to tell the irritating experiences. Obviously, the overwhelming experiences of the casinos are fun or we would not go to them, especially regularly. Why go if things stink?

ABBY: But that doesn’t mean Cindy and I have not seen some interesting things at the tables and machines.

CINDY: And there is one we call the Battle at Mini-Bac.

ABBY: One thing to know about mini-baccarat; many of the players are extremely superstitious. Indeed, the number 4 as a seating area has been eliminated at many tables because some people think the sound of that number in their own language sounds like death. Who wants to play a game where death is at your table or you are sitting in the death seat?

CINDY: One early morning we sat at a mini-baccarat table, the only one open at this time in the casino. One woman was on one side of the table and there was a man at the other side of the table. We sat between them. The woman’s leg was moving up and down, up and down as she sat at the edge of her seat. She seemed to be extremely nervous.

“Don look at him,” she pointed to the man at the table, “He bad.” She pointed to the dealer, “She bad. Bad, bad.”

The dealer said, “I told you, I just deal the cards. I have nothing to do whether you win or lose.”

“Bad! Bad!” said the woman in a screechy voice. She pointed to the man and to the dealer. “Bad!”

The man placed a bet on the bank and the woman placed a bet on the player. Abby and I bet the bank, as we always do.

The man said to us, “That lady is nuts. Ignore her.”

Bank won.

ABBY: The woman slapped the table hard. “You make,” she pointed to herself, “lose!” She thought we made her lose. We collected our winnings.

CINDY: The woman now eyed us with hate. We both bet bank again and the woman bet player and the man bet player and then switched to bank. “Bank is the best bet? Right?” he said. “Yes,” we said to him. “We always bet bank.”

Bank won again.

The woman slapped the table and stood up. She pointed to the dealer. “You! You! Bad! Bad!” Then she spoke in her own language. I don’t know her language but I could tell she was cursing out the dealer. Then she pointed at both of us and swept her hand to include the man and yelled in her language. I could guess what she was saying.

ABBY: The man said to us, “Do you think she’s telling us what nice people we are and that she is proud to play at the table with us?” “Probably,” I joked.

CINDY: Now I should mention this woman was betting $500 to $1,000 a hand. The three of us were betting $25 each.

ABBY: The woman pointed to the floor person and called him over. She regaled him in her own language. He held his hand up and went to the phone and made a call. Quite soon a man showed up who could speak this woman’s language. He spoke to her and then he went over to the floor person spoke to him. The floor person nodded vigorously.

CINDY: The floor person came over to the table and that other casino man went over to the woman. The floor person said to us, “This is now a private table. We’ll be opening another table for you guys in a little while.”

The man at our table said, “What the hell? Who the hell is she?” But then he quieted. The casino has the right to do what they want with their tables.

We knew who she was, a $500 to $1,000 player. Compared to her, Abby, the man and me were nobodies.

The three of us went to breakfast. The man was very nice. He was a pediatrician on vacation.

And the woman? I wish they put a seat 4 at the table and made her sit in it.

ABBY: Right!