One Night in London

At university, my girlfriend and I decided to take in a play in London’s West End about US politics. Another couple joined. The acting was unspeakably bad - oafish American accents and performances so wooden as to be a fire hazard. So before the interval, we gently decamped via an obscure exit, a move that instantly turned awkward. The door opened into an unimaginably posh private gaming club - think millionaires in dinner suits and cocktail dresses while we were attired like the impoverished young people we were. Then things got weirder.