The Thong

 It's never fun to be awoken from a deep sleep. Especially when the culprit is a shrieking ring tone after a night of debauchery. But this was the situation I found myself in on this Tuesday morning. 
  After trying to ignore it's cries, I finally submitted after the third call. "Rodolfo where are you?" Oh shit, I have plans to meet a friend at the Taj for a noon poker tournament. After assuring my presence, I noticed a brief forty five minute window before the tournament started. In the old days you had to be registered before the start time to insure a seat. 
  So I found the strength to eject my aching body out of bed and stumbled into the shower. After finally leaving it's warm comfort, I began to dress. Socks, shirt, pants oh fuck, no underwear. Yes it has been some time since I did the laundry. Now I'm a germaphobe. There is no way I'm wearing an old pair of underwear. Going commando seemed to be the logical option, however scraping my warrior against the unforgiving zipper didn't appear like an inviting situation. 
  Then I noticed something, lying on the bottom of the closet was a pink pokadot thong with a pink ribbon on the back. It belonged to my girlfriend and suddenly, I had an idea. I felt weird as I slipped it on. The string riding up my ass was uncomfortable to say the least. My pouch was spilling out and I had a sense of paranoia that somehow, someone was watching. I felt dirty as I stared in the mirror at myself sporting this piece of female lingerie but I must admit my portly ass did look banging.
  It is what it is, so after making sure no evidence could be seen, I found the courage to enter society.  From the second I left my door the feeling of paranoia took over. It felt like everyone I passed had xray vision and I would be labeled  a cross dresser. My friend noticed something wrong with my demeanor but I blamed it on being stoned. 
  The first half hour at the table was uncomfortable to say the least but then the thong was all but forgotten. My pouch adjusted, the string no longer felt like a wedgie and I must admit it became quite comfortable. 
  We took a scheduled break after the first hour and I waited in line to use the urinal. Just as I unzipped the front of my pants, reality kicked in. I was overwhelmed with panic. There I was standing in a  bathroom with a line of men waiting to piss, trying to find a way to free myself from the clutches of the thong. With no opening in the front, I decided the best course of action was to retreat to the stall where I sat and pissed like a girl.
  Now I was shook. The fear of detection had set in but like before, within an hour I was at peace. I normally don't talk to anyone when I play. The cranky weird persona of  poker players leaves a lot to be desired. But like everything in life there are exceptions to the rule. I began to have a conversation with the player to my right. Some bitter old bastard kept complaing about not getting a hand and we shared our views on the pile of filth that inhabits poker rooms. Then the conversation moved to sports and continued on for about forty five minutes.
  "OK guys were breaking this table, pick a card to get your new table assignment." "Nice talking with you Rodolfo." We both joked about the potential neighbor that lurked at the next table but as I reached across the felt to grab my seat card, I was alarmed by a yell of "Dude!?" It was a tone that can only be described as shock and horror. I turned to see an expression of disgust on the face of the player whom I had conversed with. Then I felt a breeze on my lower back and reality set in. The thong was exposed!
  My shirt had ridden up and the pink pokadot thong with a pink ribbon had been visible to the world.  I was frozen with embarrassment. What can you say? I was relieved when this guy marched to his table. I did find humor in the thought of this guy believing the decent person he met at the table was really a cross dresser. 
  Thankfully the story was not passed on to the remaining participants and I'm sure it's the last time he will ever think positive of a poker player. So I feel in some way I made a positive contribution to the world.
  I was able to pull myself together and final table the tournament. In fact I got very lucky on a number of hands. So lucky I decided to use the thong as a good luck charm. Before you judge me, I feel it's necessary to point out Jason Giambi and Derek Jetter wore a golden thong while trying to break a batting slump.
  Years later I found myself in a terrible slump. I had not cashed for twenty three straight tournaments on Full Tilt and my player account had dwindled down to twenty eight dollars. I entered a 24 dollar 15k guarantee six max bounty tournament with over 1200 runners. My roommate was working so I decided to sport the thong in the hopes of turning things around. 
  Seven hours later I emerged victorious to the tune of 3900 dollars. The first place finish cemented my belief in the thong. I made it a tradition to sport the thong when making a final table.
 Unfortunately the governments Nazi like crackdown on Online Poker has prevented more nights of grandeur. However, WSOP.com is expected to launch within weeks. And something tells me the thong will be joining me at many final tables.