Carded Again!
Posted on February 26, 2005 by Ching under Life, Poker.
I’m so freakin’ tired of being carded! Remember that incident at the Warren that aggravated me so much that we didn’t end up watching our movie? I had a repeat last night. Not at the movie theater. At APL headquarters this time. The great thing about APL HQ is that they allow 18 year old people to play. At most of the places where we play (which are typically bars), you have to be 21 no matter what. You might not drink alcohol or whatever, but they require you to be 21 to play. Now at most bars, they’re pretty good about not carding me anymore. Loft 150 is the best. I don’t even bother bringing my purse sometimes because I know that Tiffany is the bomb and she won’t ask to see my driver’s license. Of course, after you’ve been there every week without fail for the last three months you’re pretty much a regular. Going back to my story.. While I think it’s great that people under 21 can play at APL HQ, this actually creates a bit of a problem for me. Since they have so many underage players running around, they always (and I mean always) have to card whenever I want to drink. And I can completely understand this because I know, on most days and depending on what I happen to be wearing, I may not look like I’m old enough to drink. I think it’s the baby fat. But I digress… Last night my unlucky ass got assigned to a table with a bunch of young-looking guys. Realize that you have to be at least 18 to play so, a few minutes into the first session, one of the female hosts comes to our table and starts carding the young guys sitting across from me. Now I knew that I left my purse at home and don’t have my driver’s license with me because I had no intention of drinking that night. I actually planned on playing poker sober for a change. Isn’t that something? So anyway, I’m thinking, I look at least 18. Surely she’s not going to card me. She comes across the table and cards the guy to my immediate right. Now this guy happened to be drinking a beer so common sense would tell you that he’s a least 21. I’m thought to myself, you’ve got to be kidding. The guy is really cordial about it, though. He jokes about the beer that he’s drinking and yet he’s being carded to verify that he is old enough to play poker. It’s preposterous, but I give him props for not making a big deal out of it. At this point, I’m worried. If she doesn’t think the guy drinking beer is old enough to play poker, she probably doesn’t think I’m 18 either. My fears were confirmed when, after she was finished with him, she turns to me and asks to see my identification. “I don’t have it with me,” I tell her. “Okay, but you have to show it to me before the next session begins.” Alright, so she was really nice about it. And she’s going to allow me to go home and get it. That’s pretty cool of her. It’s huge inconvenience, but several minutes prior Brian had busted so he’s sitting in the loser’s lounger just drawing. Since he’s not playing, I figured that he’d be willing to run home and get my driver’s license so I can continue to play. No big deal. I just have to convince him to go home and get my driver’s license. I mean, God! How embarrassing is that? I really don’t want to be kicked out of APL HQ because they don’t think I’m old enough to play. I’m almost 30 for crying out loud! In between hands I run over to the loser’s lounge to tell Brian, who is engrossed in his drawing project, that he needed to go home and get my driver’s license. “I’m not going to go home and get your driver’s license just so you can drink,” he says indignantly. “Baby! You don’t understand,” I insist, “You have to go get it. This lady came to our table and carded these boys and she doesn’t think I’m old enough to play!” Brian just has this blank look. It takes him a while to digest things sometimes. And I can’t blame him. It’s ridiculous. How can you not tell I’m at least 18? But since he hadn’t made any kind of attempt to pack his stuff and leave. I reiterate, “They don’t think I’m 18. I need my driver’s license to prove that I’m old enough to play. Otherwise, they’re kicking me out of the game.” I’m kind of overly dramatic anyway, and I thought the situation was so tragic (I must to play poker; I can’t NOT play) that you could really sense the panic and urgency in my voice. I’m thinking, go! Now! Move! Brian, one of the APL hosts, just happened to be in the room preparing chip trays. He overhears our conversation and starts laughing his ass off. Fueled by APL host Brian’s reaction my Brian goes, “Are you serious? I’m not driving all the way home and driving all the way back just to get your driver’s license.” “But I need it or they won’t let me play.” By now I’m pleading with him. Please, please go get my driver’s license already. Brian turns to the other Brian and goes, “You know how old she is.. Can you vouch for her? I really don’t want to drive all the way back home. We live all the way up North.” Note that APL HQ sits at the corner of Lincoln and George Washington Boulevard, which is located in Southeast Wichita. APL host Brian finally regains his composure and he goes, “Alright.” He’s the best! “Show me which one it is and I’ll talk to her,” he tells me as we walk back out onto the vast poker hall. I walk back to my table and share my story of how Brian, the APL host, overheard my conversation with Brian, my husband, and how he busted up laughing. “Brian doesn’t want to go home to get my driver’s license and then drive all the way back. It’s a huge pain in the ass, so he’s trying to get Brian (the APL host) to vouch for me so I can stay and play.” I reassure my table that I’m old enough by revealing to them that I’m almost 30. Granted I’ve got three more years to go, but I’m getting pretty close. I mean, I’m closer to 30 than 20 anyhow. They all say that I don’t look it and they can’t tell. But they all agree that I certainly look at least 18. I didn’t want them to think that we were trying to pull anything. I mean, the other guys had to show their driver’s licenses and everything. I’m all for equality and fairness so I want them to know that I am old enough to play. I want them to know that I get to stay without showing my driver’s license because of the sheer absurdity of the situation, and not because I’m cute and sweet and did my pouty, puppy dog look and I batted my eyelashes a couple of times. How I long for the day when I will no longer get carded. I hope that happens soon because I’m really tired of being in these awkward, preposterous situations. I’ve learned my lesson, though. I’m bringing my driver’s license with me everywhere I go from now on.
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