Entering into a poker game at 2 a.m. is a dicey proposition at best. When the game is at your local, and involves several die-hards, it’s worse. And if you’re playing midnight baseball with a black mariah rain-out, expect to be there until it’s 7 in the morning and you no longer care how much money is in the pot. Except for hoping that if you don’t win it, the person that serves you the most drinks will. Which she did.
Note to self: wait, never mind. That was fun.