It was awkward. We'll admit that from the outset.

A couple nights ago, we saw a man dressed in all black standing on the periphery of the PokerStars welcome party. He wore a black fedora that seemed a little too familiar.

Who was that man in the chapeau? We'd seen him before, but our tired and addled brains couldn't remember if we'd shared a pint with him or bowed before him as he led the free world. Frankly, either was as likely. Nevertheless, we were stumped and too embarrassed to probe further.

We labored under the lapse for more than 24 hours before finally coming to our senses.

David Flusfeder!

We actually met the novelist nearly three years ago at the World Series of Poker. Born in the U.S. and living in the U.K., Flusfeder is a notable writer who actually wrote a bit for us back in the day. He told a story of future Team PokerStars Pro William Thorson suffering a bad beat near the day's end.

He couldn't stop himself from playing the next pot, got outdrawn, and shouted 'F***!' For a moment there was silence around us. The so-called 'F-bomb' rule with its 10-minute suspension for any swearer had been vigilently enforced throughout the day. There was no floor person around, so Wilson called for one himself. 'I just said "f***". I said it twice now. Do I get suspended?' The suspension was enforced, and a relieved Wilson would come back a few minutes later to bag his chips and not have to play another hand.

Flusfeder's writing chops are usually evidenced more by his novels, Man Kills Woman, Like Plastic, Morocco, The Gift, and, The Pagan House. Today, though, the story is poker. He's seated on the far end of the room and collecting material for his always entertaining blog.

The novelist has some work to do if he wants to turn this event into more than a blog post. He's seated with Andre Akkari, Gualter Salles, and Max Stern, none of them players with which to trifle.

For our part, we'd love to see Flusfeder do some good work today, if only to see how he ends up writing about it. Then again, some of the best artists come from the ranks of the depressed and tortured, so either way, it's probably a win for us.