It was at a $2-5 blinds no-limit hold’em game in Vegas. The waitress came by. Several players ordered adult beverages. I was in seat one and the waitress was standing behind seat five, so it was well heard when I said to her, “I’d like a glass of milk please.” There were a couple subtle chortles.

When my milk arrived, the player next to me, who was gone from the table when I ordered, asked me what it was.

“Milk,” I said.

“Oh,” he said, “I thought maybe it was some sort of coconut concoction.”

“Nope, just milk.”

Ten minutes later, I had 7-5 on the button. One player limped. I limped. The small blind completed, and the big blind checked. Four players. I had the smallest stack with $500.

The flop was 9-5-5 rainbow. The three of them checked, and somewhere in my mind I think I was thinking of the verb version of my drink, so I checked too.

The turn was a ten, putting two hearts on board. The small blind bet $25. The next two players folded. I called. Headsup now.

The river was the ace of hearts. The small blind bet $40. I called.

“I have an ace,” he said, and I turned over my hand.

At that moment, one of the chatty players who had been paying attention to this hand said to me, “What’s your name friend?”

“Milk,” I said, deadpan.

That was very well received, and my name was Milk for the night.

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