I just ducked into the Cue Club at the Commercial Center to catch up on some work. Why it is in the neighborhood of midnight on a Sunday and I am catching up on work anywhere the Commercial Center is another story for another time. If you’re familiar with what happens specifically at midnight at the Commercial Center, you can probably sort it out. It’s not illegal, unethical or (typically) dangerous.
Anyway, I walk in and I am instantly asked for my ID. Really, now? But this happens every so often, in cases where everybody is carded, so I pull out my ID, along with my Archie Press Club card, and the guy behind the counter gives it good scanning. Then he grabs an ink pad to stamp my hand, to prove I’m not only 21, but 21 twice over plus one. He should have stamped my feet, too. And he his working with a brand-new ink pad, because the old one was faded and you couldn’t read the lettering, whatever it is. So, now I am typing away energetically, beating the crap out of my keyboard as usual, and this stamp is rubbing off all over. I’ve been stamped probably thousands of times in Las Vegas and I’ve never experienced an oil slick like the one leaking across my left hand.
But know this about the Cue Club, opened in 1962 with a rich and colorful history (ownership of the club changed hands about 25 years ago after a long game of billiards): There is free wireless Internet service here. No kidding. That makes it worth the trip, the ink, and God bless the Cue Club.
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