What goes down must come up & never offer to buy a Russian a hot dog

As planned, I hit the tables once again.  I had Friday off and intentions of redeeming myself.  Recall that in my last session, I lasted all of an hour and found myself down 2.5 buy ins.  Whenever I have a stinker of a session like that, I question myself, my abilities, and my instincts.  I also question whether I want to go back to the tables.  I know that the reality is I need to gut check and get back in there to prove that I can continue to crush the donkeys, but it is so disheartening to lose money to absolute idiots.

I got to the Chuck an hour before noon and am able to sit instantly - tables are churning, but they don't have a waitlist.  They probably had 10 1/2 games going in addition to a handful of 2/5 and 1 5/10 game.  I sat down to a young hot shot who had a nice chip stack - in the range of $900 or so.  He just kept on hitting hands and stacking his opponents, who, invariably never believed him.  They were all willing to play big pot poker, unbelieving he had a better Ace to their Ace-rag.  They were not ready to accept that their second pair was no good to a Q high board.  I quickly determined that he was frequently raising pre-flop not because he wanted to take down blinds but wanted to get value out of his tremendous run of good hands; AQ, AK, QQ, KQ, etc. - a seemingly endless run of premiums and semi-premiums, all which seemed to hit.  I knew the way to play this dude was to sit back and let him fall into a second-best trap of his own.

However, I would have to face problems of my own, first.  In addition to combating the complete lack of cards, I ran my AQ into QJ - a familiar situation from last week which sent me of the edge - on a Ks Ts x board (all in on the flop where I cbet my PF raise and a short stack shoved his remaining $50 into my $30 cbet.  4-way flop x $15 = $60 + $30 + $50 = $140 gives me great odds to call $20 to win $140 with my gutter and an over).  Dude refuses to flip and I tell him I think I just took the pot as the Js hits the turn.  Well, the 3s on the river has me doubting that win when he flips over QJo with the Qs.  Once again, QJ > AQ to a 7-outter and I'm down $100 40 minutes into the session.  I fished out a $100 chip from my pocket (I buy in for 2x buy ins and keep one in my pocket to allow for topping off my stack so that I not only don't interrupt the game to change cash, but don't make it obvious that I'm topping off).  Joy - I'm now down 3 full buy ins within a sum total 2 hours of poker.  Within 5 hands, though, I find myself all in on a PF raised pot with a set of 3's on a board of 3 7d Qd; young hot shot had bumped the PF to $12 and got a host of callers.  Cbets $25 and old man who can mix it up raises to $100.  Looking at my stack, I can't see ever flatting here and offering the young hot shot decent odds at calling so I shove my remaining ~$190.  Young hot shot thinks and folds, and old man snaps.  I believe he had AQ, and I take down a decent pot.  Finally, I'm in the black!

While I'm patiently waiting for my next payoff, I'm watching the young hot shot mix it up with a Russian / former Soviet bloc dude (you know the type - Adidas zipper track suit, neck as thick as his accent, pitbull-like forehead, etc.) who is completely tilted by the fact that he can't win a hand...  "Is bullsheet," is his accented response.  After being stacked 2 times, he gets up and storms off.  He was very vocal about his tilt, and the young hot shot really knew what to say to keep him going.  I would chip up, though, hitting a wheel and getting modestly paid, followed by back-to-back KK and, though not doubling through, chipping up nicely.  In fact, I never was able to mix it up with the young hot shot, as he declared himself scared of me.  He would call raises from me (which I would predictably do in position, though I don't know if he picked up on that) and either check / fold the flop or check / fold the turn.  He claims to have folded a low flush to me, but I have my doubts about that. I couldn't 100% tell whether he was a lucky fish or somewhat knew what he was doing.

Regardless, at some point, the young hot shot upped and left with his mountains of chips (by this point he left with well over $1500), and in comes the Russian again.  I was watching him on-and-off through the corner of my eye.  He sat down to the slot machines and hit a $260 jackpot on a $1, which sent him back to the tables.  Evidently, he did not need the win / money because he bought in for another $200 cash and kept the $260 check in front of him.  It became immediately apparent that his tilt had not subsided during his time away, and his jackpot win only emboldened him to become more aggressive.  Though I was an active participant in relieving him of the contents of his wallet, watching this mess was awesome.  I nicknamed him "Boris." Well, Boris got so amped up that he started bitching about the cost of drinks (rail drinks I believe are free at the Chuck, but if you want premium product, I think it's around $8 per.  Hot dogs are $3.50 per)  This was not satisfactory to Boris.  He lose his money and they not pay for food or drink.  Is bullsheet.  The waitress was the unwitting victim of his tirade, but he did tip her and leave her alone.

At this point, I had lifted $~600 from him, and, upon hearing his complaints, I told him, "though I don't encourage drinking, I'd like to buy him a hot dog," a genuine and noble gesture.  I wanted to accomplish two things: I wanted to absolutely keep his Soviet ass at the table and playing cards, and I wanted him to not get fall-down drunk.  I suspected he was the type who would hold his liquor, but I knew he had been going since [at least] the early hours of the morning (he was at the table and liquored up when I got there earlier) and didn't want him falling asleep or getting too tired.  This offering was apparently an insult to him, and he let it be known.  Boris started ranting and raving - how I think I'm so smart; how he can't win a hand; how awful players we all are; and "is sheet" to offer to buy hot dog.  "Is insult to buy hot dog for Boris."  Needless, I did not buy him a hot dog.  Turns out, a hot dog is a phallus and this particular Russian is insulted by me insinuating that he eat my phallus(?!?!?!?!)  We all (the table) figured that out after he stormed off yet again after getting stacked.  He came back, bought in for the last $100 in his pocket (don't know where the $260 check went), and I decided I'd had enough.  My wife and I had agreed on a time and it was fast approaching, I was up 5 buy ins, and the Russian was out of money.  Book a nice session win and comeback from the stinker last week.