Recently BlackBook scouts (the entire staff, coincidentally) were deployed on a mission of high importance: board the newly minted ACES train at Penn Station on a direct course to Atlantic City. Upon arrival, infiltrate Harrah’s Resort and Casino for a covert recon mission. Eat, drink, gamble, spend. Is this sprawling ode to hedonism worthy of BlackBook’s next blowout?

First impressions are key, and Harrah’s delivered. We went from shot-callers to ballers in ten seconds flat -- stretch limos will do that. We were picked up in the hotel lobby and chauffeured to nearby Caesar’s, where we were wined and dined (emphasis on the wined) at Mia’s -- the resort’s Socratic homage to all things pleasure, with towering Roman columns and soaring ceilings befitting the great emperor himself.

The next phase of our assignment brought us back to home base for Harrah’s notorious poolside party. Encased in a giant glass dome, the banks of Harrah’s indoor pool transformed into a sprawling dance floor, lined with 24 hour party people. We set up camp in a private cabana and used an obscene number of Grey Goose bottles to blend in with the crowd. Some of us even took to the nearby hot tub so as not to draw any suspicion. It was a dangerous, high-risk mission, but it resulted in a finite conclusion. If you find yourself at Harrah’s this Saturday (and here's your best chance at doing so), come say hey. We’ll be by the pool.