Grubby at PokerWorks

My NETeller loot EFTed to my bank account in less than 12 hours. Just like the old days.

I don’t blame them for being unable to return the money earlier, but I will always harbor ill feelings for deceiving their members about what was going on.

Rather than blow the money on a Vegas trip, I decided to use it on an Atlantic City trip.

I’m starting to wonder if I’m capable of enjoying myself outside of a casino.

While Vegas and AC may sound the same, in terms of gambling, I’m not supposed to gamble in AC (or all of New Jersey, in fact) because of gaming license issues with work, and I intend to honor that.

Too bad there’s no restriction like that for me in Nevada.

Not that there’ll be time for gambling anyway; if all goes according to plan, I’ll meet some old friends in D.C. at the end of August, rent a minivan, then road trip up to Atlantic City for the day.

I haven’t seen these friends in a couple years, and I’m looking forward to catching up. And to check out my first Atlantic City strip club.

Because if I can’t gamble, I have to waste my money on something.

***

So back to this past weekend.

I was flush with $150 won from poker that I could spend on drinking, and first stop was meeting a friend in Wicker Park at a new eco-friendly lounge called Butterfly Social.

Like a lounge out of a casino, careful attention was paid to make everything look comfortable and different and funky. I felt like I might have fallen into a mushroom with Alice in Wonderland.

A dreadlocked DJ was spinning pulsating music that had a good rhythm, and a makeshift dance floor was carved around the bar.

The drinks had to be purchased using tickets at the door. Nonalcoholic drinks were 1 ticket ($5), alcoholic drinks were 2 tickets ($10).

I was sucked in by the eco-friendly bartendress and asked for their version of a Long Island Iced Tea, but not recognizing any of the ingredients, asked if there were a better starter drink. She liked the Long Island, and she had nice cleavage, so I went with the Long Island.

After sampling the energy-enriched, healthy version of an alcoholic beverage, this Long Island can go back to Earth Day. I’m sticking with my girlie drinks and the little environment-unfriendly umbrellas.

Though it had a ton of alcohol and though I ultimately finished it all, the taste was akin to drinking your urine after eating asparagus.

Coconut ice cubes floated and melted to give off more coconut flavor, but that novelty wasn’t enough. I asked the bartender to destroy the perfect equilibrium of the potion by adding orange juice, and she was happy to oblige with some fresh-squeezed.

That made it all better, and I made a mental note to get the all-natural version of the screwdriver next time.

Restrooms in the back had four doors that were unlabeled. I took a chance on the one closest to me on the left and found this awashed in green splendor:

I’m a big fan of public bathrooms, and this one didn’t disappoint. It came with Dr. Bronner’s soap, which made my hands feel as soft as a hemp baby’s bottom.

I may have to return just to see the other three rooms.

We left before last call because we ended up being the only ones left.  At one point there were many an attractive female in attendance.  It couldn’t possibly have been our presence that caused them to leave, could it?

We downed our drinks, went to the Irish bar across the street, had more drinks until last call there, then jumped in the car of another friend who happened to drive by at the right time.  Even better, he had two girls in the car with him.

Green Mill was the next stop, and a jazz quartet was playing but looked like they’d become a quintet if you had an instrument and wanted to jump up and jam.

Margaritas were in small glasses but still potent, and I had drunk enough that the last of my $150 went toward the last round.

We were kicked out at last call, then headed back to one friend’s place for more drinks.  The girls agreed, as long as we knew there’d be “no sex.”

Chicago girls sure are upfront and honest.

I was going to say, “What about a sextet?” which would have been a callback to the quintet at Green Mill, but my inebriated mind couldn’t wrap itself around the logic of it, so instead I just grunted.

We got to his place and the girls were yawning and didn’t seem up for anything else, so he drove them home and I enjoyed a backseat, vomitless tour of the north side of Chicago.

I got home around 5 a.m., still early to fire up a few 6max tables out of force of habit.

An hour later, alas, playing drunk isn’t playing well, especially when everything you’re looking at is spinning in wavy circles.

I dumped most of what I had on those games, then fell asleep on the floor, a pile of dirty laundry catching my fall.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, August 1st, 2007 at 2:39 am and is filed under Uncategorized.