Trish

Small and slim isn't your average stripteaser's body. Perhaps her face and personality made up for it. I won six of our eight pool games but Trish destroyed me in Game 7 and I wondered if she'd thrown shots to build my ego. But to be fair, she was constantly distracted by calls and friends snapping phone cameras. We're probably digitized together now, forever surfing the Internet.

She was playing alone; small, determined, in a drab, unflattering t-shirt and jeans.

So drab that I wasn't sure she was female.
After all, it is a weird club full of strange sexual styles.

Then I noticed her familiarity with the club staff. Suspicions rose. I played this table last night. I've chatted with the staff, maybe too much. Perhaps she was laying in wait for me? Ten minutes passed before I suggested a game and the phone cameras started snapping during our second round.

My full name was googled from Boise addresses this week. Twice. I keep fairly tight hold of my identity, I rarely use credit cards. The number of Boise residents would even know to query my name is... very small. One recruiter, perhaps two HR reps, an Indian developer with my business card, a pharmacist.

I've been carded at four clubs, but two were cursory glances.. But this club wasn't one of them and the doorkeeper went over my license, thinking it was fake or expired. It seemed curious at the time.

It's easy to be paranoid in the Information Age, especially if you're one of the instigators.

I do wonder.

But I don't care, I like the place and I'll be back tonight and Saturday, too.
If a scheme is afoot, so be it.
I'd be more flattered than worried.