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  The call of nature can mean a lot of things to a lot of people. If you are partial to grape-nuts cereal, John Denver CDs, Birkenstocks, and only showering during the new moon, then nature's call means you are probably chewing on a granola based product while sitting under a tree and complaining about how SUVs are destroying the habitat for itchy algae. If you are teenager who is partial to black long coats and anime, nature beckoning to you probably means it is time for you to burn something. Those who ascribe to a more "alternative" lifestyle interpret the call of nature to mean they must cast off their clothes and frolic on the beach with likeminded people.



  Considering the fact that most of these folks fall into the "isn't it a shame when these things beach themselves" category, most civilized cultures segregate these people into their own private camps.



  For Vanessa Rousso, the call of nature was the sound of her chips potentially dropping into the stack belonging to Haralabos Voulgaris.



  With her and Voulgaris as the last two in a pot that carried over into the break, Haralabos simply sat and contemplated the 30,000 in chips that Vanessa had bet after a Qc was dealt at the river. Her actions seemed to indicate that she was holding a rather powerful flush; something that gave Voulgaris pause. Her body language was strongly indicating that she was hoping he would just get on with whatever he was going to do so that she could use the remaining 12 minutes of the break to dash to the ladies room and answer nature's increasingly urgent calls. When she brought up her dilema to Haralabos, he dismissed the whole thing by suggesting she could simply fold if she really needed a potty break.



  Anybody who is raised the right way knows this is a breach of etiquette on a number of levels. Those folks who were properly trained to hold car doors open for the fairer sex, and stand up when a lady enters the room find his behavior shockingly rude. Despite his later claim that he was holding a King high flush during this hand, the truth is his behavior seemed to indicate that he was unwilling to take a chance with his cards if he could win by default by simply waiting her out. There is a right way and wrong way to do things. This was the wrong way.



  After watching this drama unfold, Avdil Djokovic (who had been chatting in the crowd) decided the lady needed something in shining armor to save the day. Seeing as a person who fit that description was nowhere to be found, she would have to settle for a guy in ultrasuede.



  Avdil called for the clock. This also was an etiquette breach. Not so much the sort of crime against general polite behavior that Haralabos was actively engaged in, but more of a violation against the myriad of unwritten rules that litter the game of poker.



  An official began to count down, and Haralabos folded with three seconds left in the count. He immediately got into the face of Djokovic, and Vanessa sprinted off to the restroom. It is unclear if these two wrongs equal some sort of balance in the universe, but Vanessa took the pot, while Voulgaris simply came away empty, angry, and complaining about situation to anyone who listen.