Atlantic City, Baby!

So, after working at the Clinton Community Garden booth during the street fair on Saturday, I journeyed to Hoboken, where The Lawyer and LP picked me up for our trip down to Atlantic City. (Can I just interject to say that I still loathe the PATH? Thank you.)

I have stories, people. In fact, I might even say that I have Stories. Such as:

• The Fainting Lady who passed out in line to the Borgata Buffet, only to be loaded into a wheelchair by security, pushed past everyone still waiting in line and into the restaurant, where she was promptly seated. I need to learn to faint on command, apparently.
• 5 Puking Girls, who were way too drunk, way too early.
• A bazillion Bachelorettes, in requisite cheesy veils and garters, being egged on by their friends to perform ridiculous tasks like body shots and obtaining a stranger's underwear.
• Hatchet-faced Banana Clip lady, yelling at her family, also on the buffet line.
• Angry Omelet Woman, yelling at someone for requesting cheese. (We spent a lot of time at the buffet.)
• Dysfunctional Married Couple at the Depeche Mode concert who battled to determine who could be the most passive-aggressive. (The woman won when she thrust her purse at her husband and he ended up holding it for the remainder of the concert while she danced).
• Crazy Dancer at the B Bar who was dancing and rubbing against anyone who would indulge him, also, dragging chairs over to groups of people so he could gyrate more effectively in front of them.

Of course, I'm including the three of us in the cast of characters. After the concert, we played some slots, downed 4 drinks and headed to a bar on the casino floor. I lost The Lawyer and LP for a while since the bar was playing 'Wild Things' and 'Showgirls' on their televisions, and they were entranced. Who said there were no gay bars at The Borgata?

LP left to gamble more, while The Lawyer donned her homo-invisibility cloak which allowed her to obtain free shots and drinks from a one of the guys who was talking to us. She was also dancing with him, offering him marital advice, and gave him her number at the end of the night. LP and I handled this in a mature way, by bringing her a plate full of sausage at the buffet the next morning, and suggesting that she was permanently changing teams.

And as for me? Well, I might have been hanging out with a cute guy. And then I might have been seen kissing him at the bar. Yes, I might have been That Drunk Girl.