So I'm driving back from mother's day brunch at the peabody essex museum, and I'm listening to the Arcade Fire because that is what I am listening to these days. I decide to see if they ever reopened the old pool hall I used to frequent. I probably wouldn't have, but I had my cue in my car and I can't get enough of the Arcade fire album, so. . . .yeah, I decide to turn off on the north exit instead of the south. It had been closed for over a year since this one guy really hated porn stores and decided to burn down three of them in Massachusetts, including the one next to the poolroom (I still like to think it was Steven Baldwin, but it wasn't). Anyways, I roll into the parking lot and notice it's full of cars. I have to roll around to the back of the building to park. I have no idea if it has the same owners etc. In any case, I walk in and see T sitting at the front table, almost like a flashback, yet I have never done acid. The last time I saw T he was living at Foxwoods - not at the Grand Pequot, etc. He was literally a homeless man making his way on the premises. It's hard to understand how someone can be at a casino for 8 months without leaving, while playing $1-$5 stud 12 hours a day, just to make enough to eat etc. Also, I thought there was a good chance he was dead.
I met T right after I got my first cue. I used to play at a place nearby, but I drifted in to the place he worked shortly after. I was playing on a front table; he sat down, lit a ciagrette, and said, "Look at this kid he has his own cue, is he a pro or something?"(joking obv) Then he said he would give me 2 into 5 for an 8-ball race - just for the table time. At the time that felt like huge action to me. I said ok, since I didn't understand pool much and I though I was ok at pool, and all I could lose was like $8, since I was ready to quit before I started. Obviously I got drilled, toyed with, embarassed, etc. Usually, that is the art of a good hustler, but T had no motivation beyond his own personal entertainment. He sized up his opponents in a way where his victims would almost inherently understand the small price as a lesson. He wanted to be friends with everyone. He was constant gin action while working the room, but he would rarely get action unless he gave a small spot or if he traveled around to other pool rooms. I remembered he won a bunch of money out of this one guy who went to GA if I recall correctly. He was also a funny guy. I played pool and 3-cushion billiards a little better than him, and if I had any balls and if I were a little tighter in the scene (and if I could handle gambling for bigger money), I might have drilled him too. Back to T, he always looked out for me. I was real small time back then, but I could ask him if I could play someone and he would say, "you can't touch him in pool, but you could beat him playing even in billiards. . . " Back to T. . .
I got back from Michigan, and I am playing poker at foxwoods (which is rare, but I do it - this was almost 3 years ago) I see T playing $1-$3 stud. I heard he was there (living at fw), and I assumed he would be a depressed grinder, but he was the same - same guy. I said "T?" he jumps up, says "I'm out." I tell him I was in a $20-$40, he tells me to sit out so we can go to the vip buffet he has a card for, which I do. He starts talking to a couple in their 50's at the buffet and invited them to sit with us. they sense his amiable quality and join us. When we sit down, they ask T, "What are you playing?" "I am playing $1-$3 stud no ante, he is playing $20-$40." They shared a very hearty laugh and said, "No really, what are you playing?" He said "I'm not kidding I live here, and I play small, that's what I do, anyways. . . " and we had a nice meal and a lot of laughs, and it was never brought up again. . .
At that point, T owned the place. All the amenities were provided by people that knew and liked him. He took showers in the gyms, ate on vip cards, grinded small stud. Here's the thing - he has never paid taxes to the government. He has lived under the radar. He didn't expect to live to be 25, but he did. He worked odd jobs and ultimately at that pool room for years under the table. He left the pool room because he hated a house billiard player that the new owners brought in (I still don't think I understand the problem he had with mr. Shooni) Anyways, his father passed away, he lost his place of residence, so he moved to Foxwoods.
The time I saw him, he asked to sleep in my car. I said ok. The question that most will ask is where he slept most nights. . . during the summer he found a nice, comfortable spot that evaded security flashlights and offered him good sleep. Ultimately, ticks win when you sleep in rural Connecticut. Lime disease combined with asthma and a lifetime of cigarettes put him in the hospital. He tried to resist his breathing problems. The third time he had to tell foxwoods to call an ambulance for him, the hospital detained him. He got put in with heroin and oxycontin addicts. It wasn't until they finally got in touch with his sister that they realized he wasn't an addict. He claimed he had double vision, but it wasn't drug-induced; rather, he had an unrelated brain disorder. With no insurance, he had to get on mass health and stay in the hospital for 40 days - with mostly drug addicts. After he got out of the hospital he had nowhere to or live (too much pride to ask old friends for a couch since he knew that wasn't the answer). He joined a program called christian-something - a sort of coop program fro people that have a choice between jail and programs like these. He lived in a co-op home that was run like the military - i.e. they try to break people. Up at 5 a.m. out of bed at 5:05 w/o reprimand. Work at 6:30. (Keep in mind, this place is for hardcore criminals and drug addicts - T is just a guy with no family and nowhere to go) He spent two years there - learning scripture, helping other people, and working hard (he said, "omg I worked in new hampshire at a NASCAR event - omg 120k people, and half of them are wasted, it was unbearable." As far as the scripture is concerned, another guy, (the previous owner bobby) said, "T, what did you retain from all that religious shit?" . . . . "Retain? I retained water." So I asked him to recite me some scripture and he did - it was the most anticlimatic experience ever. Everything he said was one sentence or two. All that time and that was it. But he never had it in his head to learn that shit. He told me it was time for him to give back - he wanted to help people facing jail etc. He spent two years with the Christian program - to me he seemed like the same guy, razor sharp wit in the pool room, busting people's balls etc, maybe with a little more flair for life. Anyways, I walk into the pool room. Instead of his normal, "Where did this go, Arizona? where'd you you run off to?" comment, he knew it was on him. He just laughed, gave me an uncharacteristic hug, and we chatted for about an hour. I asked him to play some pool, and he said "What, I had non-drug induced double vision recently?" He eventually agrees to play. He wins the first several games before we start the race to 5 format. I lost the first, but then I adjusted to the tight-pocketed diamonds and starting running out from tough spots. He3 is now living in the salvation army until he can get "section 8" status. I shoudl know what this means, but I don't. He hasn't had a cig in 2 years nor a drink, as it would put him out in the cold. I don't know if I could handle his situation. In any case, he is a survivor of sorts. . . .
