It’s rare that I relay an experience without detailing where it took place, but this is going to be one of those exceptions.

There are a few reasons why I do not want to mention where the following may have occurred, and those reasons will probably become obvious.

That being said, the following scenario unfolded before me in a dream.

I bought into a game at a local poker room.

Not long afterward, an older man and a younger woman took a seat at the same table.  Shortly after situating themselves, these two people began speaking to each other in Spanish.  The dealer turned toward  them and very politely said “English only please”.

“My father doesn’t speak English”, said the woman, “Am I not allowed to talk to him?”

“Not at the table unless it is in English”, the dealer replied … once again, very politely.

“My father doesn’t speak any English, and when he asks me questions I can’t reply?  You’re saying  people who speak English can talk to their parents, but not people who speak Spanish?  That’s discrimination”, the lady replied indignantly.

I looked at the woman, I looked at the dealer, the dealer looked at me, and everyone else at the table looked around in a collective “oh s**t” moment.

This was the first time I had been in this particular situation at a poker table.  Sure, people yap in foreign languages all the time and are frequently asked to stop, but it’s never been a major problem for them.  The foreign players always knew at least enough rudimentary English to get through the game, and this was the first time I have seen the “discrimination card” played.

After what seemed like a year of silence, the dealer summoned the floor, explained the situation, and a ruling was rendered:

“English only”

While he seemed to empathize with the daughter, he explained that the rule protected the other 9 people at the table from collusion.  He explained that they were welcome to play, but that they could not converse in a foreign language.

This did not sit well with the daughter.

She launched into an angry monologue about how her father played poker back home, he wanted to play here, and that they were being discriminated against.  She said that she was going to complain to the “main office” and that she was going to sue the property.

Women are given a large amount of latitude in casinos, because had I directed my ire at a room manager in the volume and duration that she did, security would have surrounded me and shot me with a taser at least 84 times.

Perhaps I should go back to the room, shout at room personnel, and sue for gender (and racial) discrimination if they stop me.  It could be lucrative.

Anyway, the woman and her (supposed) father finally left with the lady still yelling threats as she walked out, and play finally resumed.  With the situation having been solved for the moment, the table entered a discussion about what had happened.

One guy said he wished it was still the 50’s so that he could have slapped the hysterical lady, and it probably comes as no surprise that the table was unanimous in agreeing with the floor.

“How can a room know if someone does not speak English?  They can just pretend not to know it”, one person said.

From what I understand, police officers in the Southwest often have this problem.  “No hablo ingles” is a common response when “citizens” from other countries are stopped, and there is absolutely no way to prove that they cannot converse in English.

If the English-only rule applied only to those who actually could speak English but chose not to, poker rooms would probably find themselves in situations in which a large number of people “forgot” how to speak the unofficial language of the US.  At least for a couple of hours in the poker room.

Since universal agreement leads to intellectual atrophy (see: all religions and political parties), I felt a need to at least play devil’s advocate.

I conceded to the other players that I was not comfortable playing at tables with people who were not speaking English, but then I explained that Las Vegas is supposed to be an International tourist destination. I went on to opine that the city would die if every Asian high-roller with poor English skills were turned away, and I put forth the argument that in a tourist dominated venue such as a casino, it might be slightly unreasonable to expect everyone to know conversational English.

Either this made too much sense or too little sense, because nobody really got my point.

One person suggested that I was a bleeding heart liberal, and after I got done laughing, I was tempted to give him the URL to my blog, but I realized that arguing with this person was akin to teaching a monkey to play chess.

In the USA, everyone’s rebuttal to every argument is “you’re a liberal” or “you’re a conservative”, and the debate more or less ends there.  This is why we are a nation of morons.  We’ve been taught to draw a conjurer’s circle around our skull, resist the penetration of any and all information, and to parrot particular talking points without applying any real thought to the words that are coming out of our mouths.

So far, it’s worked.

Frankly, my position on illegal immigration is probably more extreme than most.  I think anyone who has been in the country for more than one year and still cannot speak English should be strapped to a missile and fired as far out of the USA as possible.  After that amount of time, you’re either lazy or you’re an idiot … but either way … we’re already full of both.

When I was 14 years old, I went to Mexico for two weeks and came back speaking broken, yet  understandable and functional Spanish.  This was accomplished almost wholly through immersion.  I spent a great deal of time on my own, and I criss-crossed Mexico City via subway and bus with some problems, but nothing that could not be overcome with common sense.  I have since forgotten most of the language, but I could probably learn it again were I to move to Mexico … and I can still order from the dollar menu at Taco Bell.

Linguistically, both Spanish and English share enough commonality so that anyone with a very basal intellect should be able to pick one or the other up in a relatively short amount of time.

Once inside a tourist attraction, however, the whole legal/illegal alien issue becomes muted, and the assumption should be that regardless of nationality, everyone is welcome.

Except Canadians, of course.

The other irony is that “English” is not the official language of the USA, and until the spineless analmonkeys in Congress make it so, we are a nation without a language and the Tower of Babel is our own fault.

As long as we give people the option to “Press 1 For Spanish”, they will choose it.

While I personally enjoy the English-only rule in poker rooms, I am slightly torn on how it should be enforced in tourist casinos.  If I encountered a table where people were yapping back and forth in another language, I would change tables or not play.

However, in a tourist destination marketed to the four corners of the globe, is the rule naïve?

I don’t oppose the rules, but in the PC world we live in, it would surprise me if this didn’t violate a law.

“But Rex, it’s private property.”

Yes, so is 7-11.  I dare them to tell a handicapped person that they cannot enter the store.  Hell, they legally have to devote half of the parking area to handicapped spaces so that fat people don’t have to walk 4 extra steps to procure a Big Gulp.

When all was said and done, my curiosity was piqued with regards to the practicality and legality of the English-only poker room rule for people who truly speak no other language.

My guess is that some enterprising “tolerant” group will eventually test this rule, and they very well may win.

Anyway, while yesterday’s session may have seemed rather lame, it wasn’t a complete waste.

First of all, the angry daughter was under 30 and had large knockers (which probably explains why she was given so much leeway).  I watched them jiggle and bounce while she was wagging a finger and yelling, and I must admit, I was slightly aroused.  I hope she comes back and yells some more with a tighter and/or smaller top.

Last but not least,  I actually made money in a poker room for the first time in what seems like a century.

Even us bible-thumping bleeding heart left-wing xenophobic conservative liberals get lucky sometimes.

Now if you will excuse me, writing this made me hungry.  I think I will go ahead and put some of my conversational Spanish to use before heading back out into the throngs.  It’s 39 cent Taco Sunday.  Seriously.

Yo Quiero Taco Bell.