Atlantic City

I may be a business woman — saying this phrase always makes me think of Bette Midler in the movie Big Business — but in my spare time, I enjoy a good mental detox. Sometimes, that means things like watching installments of Bravo’s “Real Housewives” franchise, and other times that means taking in more refined cultural activities like cooking, reading, or crafting. A few weekends ago, my boyfriend suggested we get away for a night to Atlantic City, and for the sake of finding out what it was all about, I agreed. After all, there had to be culture in Jersey, right?

I’m not really one for gambling. My cousin Alan had a casino theme for his bar mitzvah, and within an hour I was borrowing money from the house. Years later, I visited a casino in Detroit with my sister and her boyfriend. I lost what — at the time — was big money to me, all on the penny slots.

And so, the idea of going to Atlantic City — a place popularized by stereotypical tacky Jersey culture and that one episode of Sex and the City — didn’t seem so smart.

We stayed at Harrah’s on a Saturday night, and there must be something in the water in Atlantic City — or perhaps it’s the free drinks offered on floor for gamblers — but I actually really loved Atlantic City. I love all things leopard, almost always wear leggings, and don’t mind drinking a strawberry daiquiri at noon on a Sunday. I fit right in.

Sure, I lost $60, but the environment was exciting, and I knew my limit. My boyfriend had better luck, and spent his time playing Craps and Blackjack.

Between the tables, The Pool — a place that would only be hip and acceptable in a destination like Atlantic City —  and some delicious meals and libations in between, Atlantic City was a unique experience that I wouldn’t mind having again.

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