I witnessed both of these events in a cardroom. The first one probably could have only happened at a table. The second might have occurred anywhere, but the sheer emotional drama involved put most of the "tense" moments I've had in a game - (should I call this guy's raise?, etc.) in perspective.
1. My first attempt at playing for a living had me down in St. Louis over ten years ago. I played almost everyday on one of the riverboats, and got to know a lot of the regulars. One of them was Mike, who was a decent player that knew better than to play trash hands, but he really missed the action when he wasn't getting any cards. So sometimes he'd go on tilt and start playing anything.
He was aware of this leak and really trying hard to overcome it. One day, a long run of bad starting cards had him folding - and fidgeting. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He needed some action.
"Hey", he said to the player next to him as the dealer was shuffling a new hand. "You wanna bet five bucks on whether the next flop has more red or black cards?"
The other guy shrugged. "Sure. What color do you want?"
"Red" Said Mike. They shook on it. The flop had two spades and a club.
"Damn!" Mike muttered. "Same bet next hand?"
The guy agreed. This time there were two clubs. "Dammit! Okay, same bet." Three black cards the next hand.
Mike was fuming. "Sonuva...! Okay, if you let me have red again, I'll lay you 11 to 10 odds." What's odd about this wasn't so much Mike's misunderstanding of the law of averages - that's pretty common among many gamblers. What I found most amusing about this was that the other player had never expressed any reluctance to continue the wager at even money, or even a desire to switch to red.
The next flop had a club and a spade. "@#$$!! Okay, let me have red again and I'll give you ten to seven odds!"
The other player agreed. At this point I couldn't hold my tongue. "Uh, Mike? You know you could get better odds at the roulette wheel if you..."
"Shhhh!" said another player with a wink, and rightly so. I wasn't in the wager, and we didn't want to lose him. Sure enough, the next flop was black too. $35 was enough for Mike, and he didn't play very well for the rest of the game.
2. This happened at the Horseshoe in NW Indiana back when it still had a cardroom. An elderly man wanted to change his seat when one became available. Another player at the table was waiting for them to open another game. The floorperson told him it would be a few more minutes, then went back to the board.
"Remember, once he leaves I get his seat! It's mine! I asked for it first!" said the old man, rather anxiously. The dealer assured him that he would get the seat.
Another player at the table, a young guy who looked barely old enough to play, said "Yeah, just relax." Then he chuckled and muttered under his breath, "Geez, he's acting like he's gonna get sent to Auschwitz."
Unfortunately, the old man heard him. And the old man was Jewish.
"What? How can say that? How you can even joke about something like that? How can you say that to me?" With each question, the old man's voice rose in anger. He continued for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a couple of minutes, really lashing out at the kid. The kid was clearly embarrassed, and finally managed to mutter "Sorry."
Just when it felt like the moment had passed, the old man leaned over in his chair as far as he could to stare long and hard at the young man. Finally, the old man said, softly, "Are you one of the tribes?" He was referring to the twelve tribes of Israel - in other words, "Are you Jewish?"
I didn't think the kid could look any more embarrassed or ashamed, but his face deepened a few more shades of pink. He couldn't make eye contact with the old man, but couldn't ignore the question either. He nodded.
Now the old man asked him all of the same questions again. "How could you, all of people, say something like that?"
The anger in his voice was gone, but it had been replaced with something that made the kid feel even worse: profound sadness. Before, it had been an old man lashing out at a stranger. Now, it was as if the old man had been betrayed by his favorite grandson. Both of them now seemed on the edge of tears.
The floorman finally noticed what was going on, and came over to the table. "What's the problem?"
The kid and the old man wouldn't - or couldn't - say anything. The other players were silent. I expected the dealer to say something, but he didn't. I sighed.
"The young man made a comment in very poor taste. This gentleman took offense to it, and the young man apologized." It seemed an inadequate description of what had taken place, but it was the best I could do.
The floorman turned to the old man. "Are you all right? Is it over?" The old man still couldn't speak, but just waved him off.
"Okay", the floorperson said. "Let's play cards."