Kept the tags on my Poker Dress

Gambling runs in my genes.  For as long as I can remember I have had in depth conversations with both my grandparents and my dad about different games, casinos around the world, and strategies for winning.  These days I tend to win when I play because I know the games well, count cards, read people's expressions, and practice self control by not drinking one Bloody Mary per every 5 hands of blackjack!
ANYWAY...I thought it would be fun to be the one running the show for once, dealing hold em...at The Union League on Broad St...for a bunch of rich old duded (or as my bff CJ Ward calls them, Republican Fingers, eeewww).  The coordinator made it seem like it was some kind of secret society (which I'm totally down with) so I was instructed to say I was there for the "Statistical Association".  Upon arrival, I said just this to the guard with just the quickest and slyest of eye rolls.  The large and I'm assuming gay security guard chuckled and said "Girlfriend, please, you are here for the poker, don't play games with me."  I nodded and he directed me to a grand staircase, letting me know there was a fully stocked bar in the poker room. (Must I explain why I mesh so well with gay men?)
The game eventually began as as the night went on I drank better and better licquor and managed to deal the cards like a pro.  My liquid confidence tempted me to try all sorts of twisty wrist techniques and I rocked the shit out of them all.  My only mistake was getting lost on a bathroom break and wandering into a room of younger Republican fingers staring at some crappy art on the walls and then down at their smart phones.  This place already looked and felt like The Stanley Hotel from The Shining and a room full of silent wierdos reinforced that creepy nostalgia.  By the end of the game, my purse was full of cash and I was invited back to be a permanent dealer for future games without getting hit on once (WIN).  Downstairs in the lobby was one of the RF's that tipped me best, having no common ground left, all I could drunkenly muster was "Nice meeting you, Uhhh..do you know if the Broad St Line is still running?"  And yes, I bought a dress for the occasion and kept the tags on it.  Will be returning it and buying yoga classes and the entire cheese aisle of Trader Joe's.