Sex is a Misdemeanor

Quick story (for me) from an otherwise totally nondescript session last week.

An attractive Asian woman came to the table and took the open seat to my right.  She was cute and had on a very tight tank-top, which had a message on it.  The first word of the message caught my eye.  It was “sex.”

OK, that got my attention.  I took another glance, quickly—because it would be rude to stare at a lady’s chest, even if she’s asking you to do just that by wearing a shirt with writing on it—and saw the first line of several, which was, “Sex is a Misdemeanor.”

Oh wow, what could that mean?  I knew I had to read the rest of the writing, so I had no choice but to force myself to keep glancing over at her chest until I absorbed the entire message.  I tell ya, the things I do for my readers.

Finally, I got the entire message.  “Sex is a Misdemeanor.  De more I mis—de meanor I get.”  I think that was the way it was spelled, but not 100% sure.  Note: This was a new joke for me, but I later researched it and found out that there is a song with the first line as the title and the joke as part of the lyrics.

So I had to give the lady who would wear a shirt like that out in public a better look.  I said she was cute, but she also had a certain, well, I guess I’ll use the word “toughness” about her.  Yeah, she looked “tough.”  She looked like someone who could really handle herself, someone you wouldn’t want to mess with.  Let me put it this way….if I ever got into a bar fight, I’d want her on my side.

Maybe it was the tattoos that she had on her arm.  They weren’t nice flowers or butterflies or anything that might be considered “feminine.”  I really couldn’t identify what the tats were, nothing I’d ever seen before.  But they looked a lot more “rough” than “pretty,” I’ll say that.

A few minutes later, I heard a weird computerized voice.  It said, “You have another f***ing text message.”  I did a double take, looked to see where it was coming from and realized it was coming from this lady’s cell phone.  I chuckled inwardly, and realized that this particular notification message for this particular woman was a perfect match.

A few seconds later, I heard the phone make the exact same sound.  This time, I caught the eye of the older, Asian gentleman who had been sitting two seats away from me for the past few hours.  In other words, the lady was sitting right between us.  We both smiled and nodded to each other.

I heard that message at least 10 more times, and after each time, the Asian gentleman and I shared a silent glance and laugh together.

Now, the “f-bomb” is still usually forbidden in most poker rooms I play in, and this was a particularly nice room, but at no time did the dealer ever say anything.  I was sitting right next to the dealer and I can assure you the dealer heard the notification sound as easily as I did (two different dealers, in fact).  Maybe it was ok because it was coming from the phone and not spoken by the lady herself?

Anyway, it soon became obvious that she was texting back and forth with a young fellow who had been at the other side of the table for at least an hour, a totally bland, totally innocuous looking white guy. I had no idea what they were texting about, and I couldn’t tell if they were just friends or if they had a romantic relationship.  But if they were a couple, they certainly were an “odd couple.”

I don’t say that because of the inter-racial nature of the two of them.  Not at all. This is 2016, after all. And a white guy and an Asian woman is about as common a couple as you can find in Vegas.  In fact, a recent survey indicated that 94.35% of all males between 21 and 64 living in Vegas have “Yellow Fever.”

It’s just that this guy was so clean cut.  He actually looked like he belonged in a different era.  Like the 50’s.  Think Richie Cunningham from Happy Days.  I mean, if they were remaking Animal House, he’d be perfect for one of the background frat boys for the good fraternity.  I’d bet $100 and lay three-to-one odds his favorite lunch was a mayonnaise sandwich on white bread and a glass of milk.  He looked like the kind of guy who, if he ever stubbed his toe really, really badly, would exclaim, “Oh, fiddlesticks!”

Anyway, the seat next to him came open, and the woman immediately asked to sit next to him.  The text messages stopped. In other words, she never got another f***ing text message while I was still there.  They whispered to each other a lot. 

I should say that the woman was perfectly nice, nothing about her personality was “tough.”  It was just her look, and I guess the unique notification tone she had for her text messages.

Just another night in Las Vegas.