Papa John

I got a text from my friend Spike in Lawton the other day that literally had me laughing out loud for several minutes.
He said he was playing poker at the casino there in L-Town and saw a guy we affectionately call Papa John. He knew I would be interested in this discovery and decided to sneak a picture with his cell phone. Unfortunately, he forgot to turn his flash off so the guy knew that Spike had taken a picture of him. They sat across each other for a couple more hours playing cards, all the while Papa J knew Spike had taken this picture. According to my source at the table (Spike), it was very awkward for at least one of them (Spike). The best part is that the picture ended up a great portrait of Spike's thumb.

Flash back to about 2006, when Spike and I were both dashing young bachelors without a care in the world. Poker was pretty new to us, and we had nothing but time. We played a lot of poker.
I was working on the sports desk at the Lawton Constitution back then. My hours were 4 p.m. to midnight. Since the newspaper was conveniently located about one mile from the casino, I often went after work. Spike would do landscaping work all day, sleep for a little while, and usually end up at the casino at about the same time I did.
There was another fellow who would show up at the same time as us. He was at roughly the same age and poker skill level that we were. He was a Papa John's delivery driver, and he would come to the casino as soon as he was done with his shift. He always wore the Papa John's polo shirt and hat, but he rarely ever said a word.
He pretty much kept to himself and usually won, and that was all I knew about him. Well, I also knew that he drove a brand new white PT Cruiser, which looked pretty funny with the Papa John's car-topper on it. It also seemed funny that a young kid with a heavy country accent would be driving a brand new white PT Cruiser.
After a couple of months, he started occasionally jumping into the sports conversations that frequently begin at the poker table. He was a smart dude who read the sports page. Sometimes he would reference something in one of my columns and then add his two cents, either agreeing or disagreeing in a very well-thought and to-the-point manner. The way in which he would jump into a conversation from out of nowhere and make a very forceful opinion usually ended the discussion. Then we'd all go back to playing cards and wonder why the Papa John's guy thought he got be God and make the deciding point in every argument.
After entering a few sports discussions, Papa John started doing the same thing when there was an interesting poker hand that merited discussion at the table. People would be going back and forth and he would just fly in from left field and say, "The flush hit and John bet $150 after calling the flop and the turn. He's not going to bet into five people without the flush so it was a terrible call by Mark."
Then he would just go back to saying nothing.
With this kind of guy, it's easy to see how one could overlook a key detail -- his name. I had played with him for almost a year and had no freaking clue what his name was.
Over that time, Papa John seemed to take a liking to Spike and I. He tended to agree with most of what what we said about sports and poker, but we still never talked about anything personal. I definitely respected his knowledge and poker skill and just assumed he was a home-schooled introvert without a lot of social skills. I had nothing against him.
As Papa John starting feeling comfortable popping into conversations between Spike and myself, it became increasingly awkward that neither of us knew what his name was. Keep in mind that this was a small poker room without an electronic waiting list like most rooms have. You just gave your name to someone at the front desk and they let you know when your seat was open.
For a couple of weeks we had been trying to figure out what his name was without asking him, since he was obviously quite familiar with our names and we had known him for too long to just ask him what his name was. Unfortunately, since he didn't talk to anyone else and only rarely spoke to us, this seemed to be an impossible task. I remember us putting a $20 bounty on finding out his name. We couldn't do it.
Back then, the Lawton poker room closed at 2 a.m. (maybe it was 3 a.m., I don't remember for sure). Like I said, Spike and I would usually get there about midnight, and sometimes two hours of poker wasn't enough. We would occasionally drive to Norman to play at Riverwind until dawn.
One night just after the Lawton poker room had closed, Spike and I were standing off to the side and decided to make a run to Riverwind. Out of nowhere Papa John's sidles up and says, "I'd like to go with you."
Since this guy didn't seem like a serial killer and it also didn't seem like a good time to say, "What's your name, Bro?" we just piled into my Honda and took an awkward trip up the turnpike.
Since Riverwind had the electronic waiting lists, our plan was to let Papa John walk up to the counter first. Then he would give his name and we would either hear it or see it up on the board. That plan was thwarted when Papa John looked up at the board and said, "Open seating for the $2-5 no limit game? I'll take it." Spike and I rolled our eyes at each other.
We played til dawn and then went to IHOP for some breakfast. By this time Spike and I have exchanged 25 texts trying to guess his name or come up with any clue whatsoever.
We get done eating and as we get up, Papa John's says he's gonna go take a leak, and we tell him to meet us at the car.
As we're walking to the car, I say to Spike, "So we still have no idea what this guy's name is?" Spike laughs and says, "No clue. It would be a lot easier if he just wore the Papa John's name tag."
That's when we notice that Papa John is standing right there.
Either this guy took the fastest leak in the history of the world or he was afraid that we were going to leave him. Regardless, there's a 100 percent chance he heard Spike's comment.
I changed the subject real fast but the damage was done. The worst part is that this dude STILL didn't tell us what his name was. I felt horrible so I started asking him personal questions all the way home, to try to get to know him better. This resulted in him complaining about his wife for an hour and not telling us his name.
After that incident, Papa John starting coming around less and less. He was much more temperamental, berating opponents who beat him in a hand and sometimes playing terrible poker and losing significant amounts of money. Judging from the car talk and some random grumblings under his breath, I think he was having marital problems. Anyway, he pretty much quit coming.
Yes, at some point before he disappeared we figured out what his name was, but he'll always be Papa John to me.

Two things cracked me up about Spike's failed picture attempt the other day. First, it's obviously funny that the same guy who got busted making a rude joke about not knowing Papa John's name also got busted trying to snap a cell phone picture at a poker table. Awkward silence, Part 2.
But what's also funny is what would have been in that picture had Spike not instead taken a picture of his own thumb.
Six years after the original incident, Papa John is still in the pizza business. But he's not working for the Big Daddy anymore! Spike reports that Papa is now wearing the polo shirt and hat of Marco's Pizza these days. I guess he was a free agent and Marco's swooped in with the highest offer. There's no loyalty with these guys anymore, they just take the money every time.