Last night, I decided to check out the Cypress Club -- a "members only" establishment here in the city. From the outside, it's a solid brick building with a huge wooden double door in front. Its name is above the door in brass letters, and that is its sole adornment.
Already, I'm happy.
I go inside, and the chef introduces himself. There's no menu -- he simply asks what you'd like. I requested "something interesting", and he came out with half a grilled pineapple, stuffed with shrimp and scallops in a coconut sauce, served on a bed of couscous. In case you couldn't tell, this is the start of a long and happy patronage.
It gets better, though. After supper, I checked out the games room on the second floor. There's a gigantic snooker table, and a shuffleboard, but the pièce de resistance is their poker room. It's a small room with four chairs, a hotline to the bar, and a round felt-covered table which is 124 years old. Over a century of poker, played on that surface. It's breath-taking.
Unfortunately, it really brings out the mischievous imp in me. I've never played a game of Magic: The Gathering in my life, but the thought of befouling such a room with those cards...
I know. I'm a horrible, horrible person.