Security Alert: Machete in the Poker Room!

Before I share the following true Caribbean story with you, let me caution you to remember one thing: most of the Caribbean is paradise to the majority of global travelers. You are nearly as safe on a Caribbean island as you would be in any major U.S. city or even your own home.

But anywhere there are people, any place there is excess money like a gambling casino, strange things can happen. This story relates one of those strange things.

St. Maarten is a beautiful island half owned by the French and half by the Dutch. A simple boundary marker comparable to a speed limit or school sign separates the countries. Just as a matter of interest, if a crime is committed on the French side, the Gendarmes (the French police) can pursue the suspected criminals only as far as the border, and vice versa.

On this particular Friday night, I had worked hard at the newspaper that employed me as a staff writer. At the end of the day, I was pleasantly exhausted and decided to drive to the Atlantis Casino to play a little poker.

Mario, a six-foot-two former soccer champion, is the poker room manager. He was in the process of putting together a no-limit poker game when I arrived around 6 p.m.

'Hey, Amigo,' declared Mario, smiling, 'we have a seat for you.'

Most of the other players had already taken their places. They included the wealthy owner of a fashionable boutique on the Dutch side, a restaurant owner who hailed from Scottsdale, AZ., a timeshare company owner, a helicopter pilot named Mike who was born in Albuquerque, and two brothers, William and Isaac, who were laborers who worked in the sugar cane fields.

We were an amiable group and the game was lively and fun. Two gorgeous island cocktail waitresses kept the free drinks flowing A small reggae band took to the grandstand complete with steel pans and began playing.

William was in his 40s and Issac was five years younger. They sipped Barbados Rum while I ordered a Carib Beer.

Rum does strange things to people, especially in the Caribbean. Blackbeard the pirate -- his real name was Henry Teach -- plied his men with it before attacking a merchant ship and stripping it of all its valuables. A crew of 30 privatee. Trs under the influence of the 280-proof rum perhaps mixed with a bit of the local herb which the pirates smoked to put them in a fearless frame of mind could take on 100 armed militia and generally send them running for cover.

By 9 p.m., most of the players were well liquored up, especially the sugar cane workers. The game had been going along nicely with medium-sized pots. The boutique owner had left and a chief inspector on the police department had replaced her.

William suddenly pushed all his chips into the pot with a solemn, 'All in.'

Everybody folded except his brother, Isaac. The younger brother said, 'Call.' William turned over pocket kings. Isaac flipped over pocket aces.

William never said a word as Isaac raked in the pot. Then without looking at his brother, he slowly rose from his seat and headed for the door. Mario called after him, 'Are you coming back?' Isaac never answered him.

Five minutes passed.

The door suddenly swung open and William came into the casino. He was armed with a large wicked looking machete. When he saw his brother, he raised the machete and ran toward him.

I froze, expecting bloodshed. Isaac shot up out of his chair and went into a defensive crouch while his brother raised the machete. I couldn't understand it. The police inspector sat there doing nothing. Mario leaned against a pole, arms folded, just watching. I waited for someone to yell, 'Security alert, security alert! Machete in the poker room!'

Suddenly William burst into laughter. He dropped the machete and they threw their arms around each other. 'Nice hand, brother,' William said, rubbing his sibling's head. 'You really got me.'

Afterwards Mario came over to me.

They do that every now and then, usually to freak out the tourists,' he said. 'They love each other and would never do any harm. This time you were the target.'

St. Maarten, St. Kitts and Nevis, I love you. Let the games begin.

Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.

(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter and poker player who lives in Phoenx, AZ. He has published 2,000 articles in 50 magazines and 125 newspapers. If you want to share a gambling story or book idea with him, send an email to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).