If you ever want to ostracize yourself from a social group, I recommend agreeing to play Euchre while being a little shaky on some of the rules. Iíve actually learned and forgotten how to play Euchre over twenty times, because my brain refuses to permanently remember any details of this wretched game. But Euchre is very popular in lame places such as Michigan, so Iím constantly finding myself beginning a game with the naive presumption that Iíll remember how to actually play before I make an embarrassing mistake. The problem is that in Euchre youíre paired with a teammate who expects an unrealistic level of competence and nonverbal communication, and this pressure causes me to freak out and trump him or volunteer to play a hand alone with the crappiest cards imaginable. I usually donít make it ten minutes before being forcibly removed from the Euchre table, but by that time I donít care. I know theyíll always be another opportunity to play Euchre, and Iíd never pass up a match with a group of hardcore super-serious Euchre players. Thatís because my favorite thing in the world is to put an insane emotional investment in shitty 19th century card games I donít know how to play.
3 thoughts on “Euchre”
They say those who are good at euchre are better lovers.
I am just sayin…
That explains why I‚Äôve been playing so many hands alone recently.
I don’t know what it is about Michigan, but everyone here expects me to be an expert at Euchre… I also have the knack of forgetting the rules directly after learning them.