…A wide carpeted stairwell led me discreetly to the front desk, where a polite and elegant attendant took my passport and registered me in….I then proceeded to make my way to the poker room, where I was greeted by a heavy cloud…It is the fall of 2006 and close to fifty percent of Parisians smoke.
I went further down the smoky aisle to discover the epicentre of the seat distribution area: a white board on which were inscribed the initials of awaiting players. About forty minutes later, I heard someone shout out ‘I’, ‘M’.I took my chips and felt quite the adrenaline rush as I walked to my table…ready to embark with eight other souls on the rollercoaster of emotions that poker brings.
A few hours later, I left the table empty handed, but quite content. I knew that I would be back for more, ready and able to turn my luck around. My visits to the club became a weekly habit. But more so than the pursuit of gain, it was the camaraderie that I experienced around the poker table that made me want to come back….Although I was miles away from home, the Aviation Club became somewhat like a home, a place where everybody knows your name…