A Game of poker

The table was a perfect square. My fingers kept brushing over the unblemished green felt of its surface in the same manner that one brushes their toes lightly across a thick shag carpet after a whole day spent on one’s feet. Sometimes simple things feel so good, especially when they are tactile. That would be the last simple moment in that whole crazy night. The three other men that were now approaching the table had never been even remotely associated with the word "simple." All three were conundrums wrapped within enigmas and thrust squarely upon me in the form of a riddle that evening. The room was dark. I should correct myself however. I just assumed it was a room, but really I could see nothing beyond a distance one foot from the table. It’s as if reality just faded away on all sides of that table with its four chairs. Maybe it wasn’t really a room but just some place that exists beyond a poor writer’s ability to describe. As the three men sat down, I nodded to each of them. They had come to play some no-limit poker. They had somehow heard that I was a decent player. If they had bothered to look under the table they would have seen my knees quivering.

To my left sat Jack. He was dressed in the finest Italian suit that a tailor ever sewed for a man. Had I all the money in the world I could not be made to look that good in a suit. His appearance was flawless. I silently guessed that he had gone for a haircut immediately before arriving at our table. Jack however had not a hint of arrogance to him. He was confident without thrusting that confidence upon others. He took care of business. In real life (away from our table that is), Jack was a genius. He retired as a five time Jeopardy Champion back during the days when contestants were limited to a mere five appearances. He also had a Nobel Prize in Economics, and rumors on the internet said his IQ was hovering just above 250. I researched all this before playing these three gentlemen. I always study a situation before I enter it. I decided it was time to break the ice and make casual conversation.

“Jack, what role do you think Nitrogen played in the biogeochemical cycle just prior to the rise of Oxygen on the Archaen Earth?”

Jack looked directly at me and paused for a moment, as if he suddenly remembered that he had left his oven on at home. Then he answered.

“I think it depends on the availability of fixed Nitrogen in a presumably methane atmosphere. If there were a lot of chemoautolithotrophic bacteria around, then the products they excrete would hamper the production of fixed Nitrogen for use by the Earth’s biota. Hey, do you have any pretzels around?”

I reached under the table for the pretzels and additionally the wasabi covered soybeans that I like so much. They are good for you but still carry a flavor of danger. I am not really smart enough to know if his answer made any sense. It sounded reasonable though. Usually I find if a person’s answer seems reasonable it is best to move on rather than make a fuss just to sound equally smart. I continued casually conversing with him first about the Tokogawa Shogunate of feudal Japan, and then about the politics of Lesotho in post-apartheid South Africa. I was not neglecting the other two men. They were both on their cell phones. The game wasn’t scheduled to start for another fifteen minutes.

I decided then that everyone should want a friend like Jack. There aren’t enough intelligent conversations in the world anymore. Without enough people around to open your mind, what’s the point of it all anyways? This guy knew his stuff, and talking to him I could feel myself becoming smarter, even if only while at that table, and only for this one night. Jack’s phone rang and he excused himself from the table for a moment and disappeared into the darkness to take the call. I hope it wasn’t the fire department. It would be a shame if his oven really was left on.

I turned my attention to Johnny who sat directly across from me. Johnny was one of those cool guys that the chicks just dig. Coolness emanated from him like heat off asphalt in the middle of a Houston summer. Johnny’s name was always in the tabloids and he was rumored to be linked to several gorgeous models. Women just seemed to hang off his every word. When he got off the phone I had to ask him about his love life so that I could live vicariously for just a few moments.

“So how is it dating [insert hot model or actresses’ name her]?”

“Its not really true you know,” he replied. “Women just enjoy my company. It doesn’t mean I reciprocate with anything physical.”

“BS,” I replied with incredulous eyes. You expect me to believe that if [insert hot model or actresses’ name her] asked you to [insert unmentionable thing here], you’d turn her down?”

“You can believe what you choose my friend, but I actually just turned down her offer to [insert unmentionable thing here] five minutes before arriving here. It is important to prioritize.”

“But why?!? I know you aren’t gay (I researched this on the internet as well). Why do you turn them down?”

“Let me explicate and you try to cogitate [note to self: why can’t I say cool stuff like that?]. I don’t deny those girls who look forward, only those who look to the past. When it comes to love most people are walking backward through life. They look only at where they have been and then whine whenever the back of their heads hits a wall. All those girls that the press links me with are walking backward with a Samsonite in each hand. Don’t worry though. I got a little honey tucked away whose eyes are facin’ the right way.”

That was all pretty deep. Was this guy for real or was he just trying to get me to “cogitate” on his words in the middle of an upcoming poker hand, thereby distracting me? Clearly this game was going to be difficult. Just then his phone rang. Probably another girl, I thought. Johnny excused himself from the table momentarily as he too disappeared into the darkness surrounding our table.

The third man, Jim, was sitting quietly to my right. He must have been off his phone for a few minutes but I hadn’t even noticed. He had his eyes closed and was swaying back and forth so imperceptibly slowly that I had to really focus upon him before I could see the swaying. Jim was either bald or had shaved his head. I couldn’t be sure and I guess it didn’t really matter unless I could see the cards reflect off his forehead. His clothes were very plain, especially when compared with the other two men. They looked almost “bath- robish.”

“Jim, what are you doing?” I asked

“I was just meditating before our poker game,” said Jim with complete equanimity. “I find that I have fewer tells when I play with a clear mind.”

That would make sense, I thought. Jim was the most enigmatic of the three players at our table because his style was the most erratic. At times it seemed that he was actually trying to lose. Through some obscene luck however, he would end up winning. The formidability of Jim stemmed from the fact that his poker heart wasn’t shaped like a normal man’s. He dealt the cards as a meditation. Those he plays never suspect. He doesn't play for the money he wins, he don't play for respect. He deals the cards to find his answers and is fascinated by the sacred geometry of chance and the hidden law of a probable outcome. To him it’s all a dance. I had studied Jim the most and understood him the least.

“Maybe after the game you can teach me some of your techniques,” I asked politely.

“No,” replied Jim. “What I know can’t be taught, son. Just keep your eyes open and follow the game and when you are my age perhaps you will ‘get it’ too.”

Bald man, that advice will do me no good tonight, I thought bitterly.

Just then, Jack and Johnny walked back to the table. It seemed like these guys were always on their friggin’ cell phones. It would drive me nuts to have that many people seeking my counsel.

It was now time to play some poker. As I dealt the first hand to Mr. Daniels, Mr. Walker, and Mr. Beam, I wondered just what I had gotten myself into. Was it wise to put my money on a table with three wise men? More importantly, would I even remember this in the morning as anything other than a burning esophagus and a headache?


"I said that, was the craziest game of poker that I ever saw
I said that, was the craziest game of poker that I ever saw
But I'm not gonna quit and I'm not gonna stop
Don't give a shit cause I got the drop
Johnny just got two eyes just like mine
And I'm feeling kinda funky, kinda fine" -O.A.R.