This post is transcribed and adapted from my Paris notebooks and was originally written in the fall of 2019.
Nils can't get his head in the game. He's sitting directly across the table from me in the dining room of our friends' place in the 16th Arondissement, strumming the strings of a bass guitar. The game is Texas Hold 'Em. The players tonight are: our hosts, Linda and James, from Boston; Clarence, a towering British oil man and his wife Zahra from Azerbaijan; Nils and Ingrid, diplomats from Sweden, and my husband and me.
I promised my husband we would only stay for an hour, so I have played every hand, refusing to fold no matter what, and I'm down to three 10-chips, which is equivalent, according to tonight's rules, to about thirty cents. My husband has also played every hand and was close to being able to retire from the game when he won the biggest pot of the night, meaning we'll be here for a while...especially if Nils keeps it up with the bass.