The Rewards of Truth or Dare Poker
by Tee Petersen
(Arlington, Texas, USA)
(Photo from Henry__Spencer)
A large group of my friends from work and I, used to go out after a hard night on the job. We worked at the Dallas/Fort Worth International airport, so “after” work, was always a relative term for us.
One particular night we had been dealing with problems from the moment we walked in, so more than 10 hours later, as soon as we could escape, we hit the door running.
A local Mexican food place stayed open all night and served various flavors of Margaritas until 2 a.m. It was “our place”. As some of our people grabbed several orders of the famous “sloppy nachos” and a few Margaritas each, the rest of us would invade the patio area and take over several of the tables.
We dragged them together and set up shop in the open air. Then, the double deck of cards would come out and the poker would begin.
We had created a special game, all our own. We would deal five cards, you could replace up to three cards one time only, and then you had to play what you had in your hand.
Whoever had the winning hand at that point would then pick a random person of their choice from around the table and challenge them to “Truth or Dare”.
It was always a lively bunch. Most of us were in our twenties, with a couple of the older crew joining in on occasion. This particular night, two cute, 22-year-old blonde college students, named Tammy and Kim, whom we referred to as “the twins” were on a roll.
They could not win a hand of poker to save their lives. Every challenge was coming their way, from finding the remains of a leftover taco in the trash, to standing on the table and pretending to be a flight attendant and instructing all the other diners as to how to exit in the event of an emergency.
Finally, it was my turn to win.
I knew they were expecting it by the looks on their faces, so I singled out Tammy. “Truth or Dare, Tammy?”
She scowled at me, then grinned and said, “I know the kind of questions you ask… gimme a dare!”
It was just what I had been waiting for! “See the hot, 40-something, Italian looking guy over there at the table, wearing the Carmine Ragusa jacket?
You have to go over to him, get down on one knee and sing Joe Cocker’s ‘You are so beautiful’ to him.”
The look on her face was priceless. She never could control a blush and her face went up in flames.
However, being the trooper she was, she got up and went to his table. He was sitting with a couple of other guys and talking. When she knelt down beside him, he knew something was coming.
He and his friends were usually there when we were, so he was a familiar face. The guy turned toward her and we could see the name “Tony” embroidered in bright silk on the jacket.
God love her, we discovered that Tammy had to be tone-deaf or something, because the way she treated that song was just criminal. She sang it out loud and off-key and he sat through the entire song with a smile on his face.
Tammy received a standing ovation from several tables full of people, including Tony’s. She came back to our table and our play resumed.
In the middle of the next hand of poker, we were suddenly were surrounded by several waiters carrying trays of Margaritas. No one knew what was happening until Tony came over and introduced himself to us as the owner/manager of the restaurant.
He said, “Ya know, every time you guys come in, it is always a party. I have gotten more repeat business because of you, than I ever used to get before on weeknights! People come in and ask if those crazy airport people have been in yet, all the time.
I just wanted to say thanks for livening the place up and you are welcome back any time.”
Drunken Strip Poker Thrills
(Fargo, North Dakota, USA)
Strip Poker + Drunken + Naked Dare = Guaranteed Fun
(Photo from Thirteen Of Clubs)
So I'm sitting with a mixed group of friends one night over at my place, all in our mid twenties, and we are all drinking and obviously in a fun mood. We had been hanging out for a while, and one of them had suggested we play a game.
Well, a few of us are kind of dirty minded folks, so eventually somebody came up with the idea we should sit down and play strip poker because of the deck of cards on the table over there. So once they all finally agreed to play, everybody is trying to act all cool about it and put on their poker faces and stuff.
We agreed to have the absolute last place per hand be the loser so we could stretch the game out. A few hands go by, and everybody is all around the same level of loss in terms of clothes. A couple of people start having rather bad losing streaks after a few more rounds pass on.
One person in particular, my buddy Bob, was having the worst and down to his underwear. Now, Bob is a little shy and he was saying he wanted to quit, but that just isn't cool, you know. So on his next loss he was to complete a dare.
Well as you would figure, he ended up losing in the next two hands. Now some of us are a little cruel as well as dirty, so it was decided that he was to run down the block and back in his underwear. Mind you, it was also winter.
None of us was super cruel, so we gave him his shoes to complete the task. Well anyway, he took off running to lessen the time I suppose. So we watched him take off, and off he went right onto an ice patch, slipped and lost his balance, and rolled down a hill covered in about an inch or two of snow finally coming to a stop in someone's bushes.
We were all having laughter fits from this whole scene. Fortunately he wasn't hurt, just shivering cold, and kinda wet. Those of us mostly still dressed ran out to help him and I brought a blanket to wrap him up in. At least he was a pretty good sport about it.
Thanks for the memory, Bob.
Strip Poker Got Me Stuck With a Year of Laundry Duty
by Lisa Simone
(Atlanta, Georgia, United States)
(Photo from gazzaPax)
As a college student back in the 80s, my classmates and I used to play strip poker in the evenings when we got home from the bars. One spring night, it was so nice outside that we snuck out behind the tennis courts to enjoy our card game in the open air.
Just as things were getting interesting and I was taking my shirt off, we saw flashlights approaching and realized that campus security would be arriving soon. Everyone grabbed up their clothes and started to run off.
In all the commotion and dim lighting, I discovered too late that I had wound up with one bright red sock and my own white sock. As I slunk back to my dorm room in my mismatched attire, I started thinking about my roommate who was a little self righteous.
We had only lived together for about a month and I was dreading the idea of being nagged about my appearance and conduct for the rest of the year. My heart sunk when I saw the light under the door and realized she was in for the evening.
Then, it hit me. I pulled off my socks and cardigan. As I entered the room, I dropped my shoes and started sweeping my clothing off the wall hooks and into my arms. I announced that I had been studying so hard in the library that I needed to do a mindless task like laundry to settle down to be able to sleep.
My roommate looked at me with approval. She seemed satisfied that her influence was turning me into a better student. The only problem was that I spent the rest of my freshman year doing late night laundry to keep up the pretense. It was a lot of work, but I never had to worry about running out of clean clothes.