Place: What Happens at Commerce

Don't let the picture fool you. The city of Commerce is not a desert oasis where tequila-induced one-night stands or random hookups with the hot girl’s not-so-hot friend happen. Billboards adorned by pudgy weight loss models and cracked concrete walls tagged with indiscernible graffiti line the sides of the 5 Freeway. For newcomers feeling lost, bearing wallets of several crisp 20-dollar bills, Commerce Casino reveals itself, hiding in the distance behind its very own Star of Bethlehem - a dimly lit Carl’s Jr. logo, smiling in the foreground of Commerce’s lusterless, smoggy night horizon.

Commerce Casino, simply put, is not Las Vegas, and Las Vegas is certainly not L.A. Five dollar steak and egg dinners served 24-hours a day are replaced by Vietnamese pan-fried noodles, and the bright lights of the strip are matched only by a mile-long stretch of power lines that extend throughout an overcrowded parking lot, filled with dented 92 Toyota Camrys and self-repainted Pontiac Sunbirds. When you step into “The World’s Largest Poker Room,” the air, despite an instituted “smoke-free environment,” reeks of lingering Newport cigarette smoke and unbathed men wearing cheap cologne who, on occasion, proudly say that they have not gone home or seen their wives and kids in several days. Wannabe card pros, imitating their favorite pseudo-celebrities from ESPN’s broadcasts of the World Series of Poker, dress in attire suitable only for the likes of rebel pre-teens: bland colored hoodies and sports caps tilted ever so slightly to the front, barely covering their dark sunglasses, which they tackily wear indoors in fear of giving the competition an “advantage.” Ipods are common accessories that scream, “You can’t psyche me out! The music helps me concentrate,” but only a large stack of chips can bring true credibility to these expressionless gamblers.

There are no burly pitbosses in pinstriped suits, 3 feet margaritas, or girls screaming or flashing their breasts from the sunroof of a stretch limo. Rather, cake-faced cocktail waitresses, hiding behind their ruby red lipstick with fake smiles, wearing long black stockings, short skirts, and high heels, strut around selling Starbursts and cigarettes. These subdued servants’ faces, continuously sighing and rolling their eyes, reflect a strong yearning to slap every sleezebag across the face and give them a smug “Fuck you!” As one waitress paces slowly back to the bar to retrieve more $6 Budweisers and Coronas, she painfully grimaces following another bad pickup line while the failed pickup artist whispers sweet-nothings under his breath, giggling to himself like a seven year-old. All in all, Commerce Casino boasts an eclectic cast of characters, but it’s less than spectacular design and atmosphere makes one think about how it came to be the poker Mecca of the world, flourishing in the pits of Los Angeles.