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I log on too

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Patience I

Toronto, Canada 

23/5/1995

Four days before the 1995 world Patience and solitaire championship.

Jean-Luc Simon sits at a coffee shop, fiddling with a pack of cigarettes.

“What are you writing down?” He questions “This is already being recorded”

“I'm taking notes, for myself”

He squints his eyes, “Oh”.

A waitress approaches the table to take our order, He silently shoes her away with a wave. He makes no eye contact with her, looking instead at the cassette recorder. Kyle presses it and signals me to start.

“Could you tell me how you started playing Patience?”

“I don't know ‘play Patience’,” he remarks “single-player-closed-pack-card games are my life”

Jean-Luc is a lanky white man, aged 27. He is dressed in a black winter coat and a gray wool sweater. His blond hair is cut into a shaggy mullet, it seems to be bleached.

“The first time I dipped my toes into the field was at age six or seven, At my grandmother's nursing home. I believe I played about 2-3 minutes of a simple game of ‘klondike’ before I lost interest, I suppose I never was one to sit still.”

He has said ‘I’ 7 times since the recording started.

“I started playing professionally 3 years ago” he pulls out a pair of cigarettes and offers me one, I decline.

“You won six medals at last year's championship, correct?”

“Seven actually.” he exhales “after the rejudging I placed second”

“My mistake”

“In the past year I have won two dozen categories in 13 matches. I've competed in 5 countries”

“Last month in Bangkok you competed in the Canfield category-”

“Competed and won” he corrects me again. He sounds irritated.

“Yes, and you set a record of 49 seconds. That is extremely impressive”

His expression softens slightly at my compliment.

“Thank you Andrea,” I don't like him using my first name. “Bangkok was exactly what I needed to show the global community that I am a force to be reckoned with”.

“Do you feel any animosity from your fellow competitors?”

“Some, I mostly feel apprehension. They underestimated me last year. Now they know that I'm the strongest competitor”

“You're the strongest competitor?” I question.

He chuckles condescendingly. “Of course I am. Do any of those old farts get times like mine? Even Williams is slower than me. The bitch is terrified of me, saw him shaking in his fancy little shoes”.

“You've met him?”

“Ran into him this morning” he laughed “you should have seen it, I thought he was going to piss himself. Little shit probably thought he got me kicked out the running”

“But there was debate on if you were going to be let in the competition, alot of people thought you should have been banned”

“On the basis of what? Williams falling down and blaming me for something I did not do? He couldn't deal with me almost beating him!” he said almost quieter than the rest of his words.

“You punched him in the face on live television, I can understand why people didn't want you back” I raise an eyebrow.

“Listen Andrea, can I call you Andy?”

“No”

“OK, Andrea, you seem like a smart person. And we both know that whatever happened, was taken wildly out of proportion.”

“So you're saying you didn't punch him?”

“That was barely a punch”

“Last year you said in a public statement that you had-” I check my notes ”-’a serious and violent outburst that you were deeply ashamed of’, do you not agree with that statement now?”. He breaks eye contact and starts fidgeting with the cigarette butt. He looks nervous and you can see the gears shifting in his mind.

“Could you stop writing?” He doesn't shout but his words are loud enough that the three of us are taken aback. I stop writing. “Listen that statement was written by my publicist, who I don't work with anymore. Those were the words of a coward, and I am not a coward” he puts his elbows on the table and leans in closer. He opens his mouth to say something but stays silent. Maybe trying to intimidate me, maybe trying to cover his ass. We are both quiet for a minute, I realize he is thinking of his next words carefully and predicting my response. ‘A good player is always two steps ahead’. His fingers are intertwined, holding his chin. He is a slim man but his hands are large. I suppose his hands are his most Important tool. He owes his fame (and infamy) to his hands and instincts. He has a good mind and is an extremely talented player. But he is by far known most for being one of the fastest Patience players on recent memory. Being able to finish a game in under a minute, whether it be closed or open.

“None of this matters” he finally says, “I will beat Williams or anyone else that I compete against”

“Thank you for sitting down with us Jean-Luc, and good luck”

“Were done?”

“Yes we're done” I say, I light a long cigarette. Kyle starts packing the recording equipment.

“No more questions?”

“yes”

“You're sure?”

“Positive”. 

We load our equipment onto the cart we got from the hotel. Me and Kyle walk toward the convention center, talking about the next interview, when Jean-luc catches up to us. “Come to my party tonight” he says out of breath “alot of the competitors are going to be there”. He is bent over his side, hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

“Sure” I say, “we'll drop by”

“Oh yeah he can come too”

“Sure” he gives me his business card and shakes my hand.

-

Hi! this is the first chapter of this story. this is a very rough draft.

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