Boardingbetter
Member
There I was, in Vegas on a business trip of all things. Been travelling for about 20 days on this new job and needless to say, my sleep patterns were about as normal as Michael Jackson's sexual perferences. *click* *click* I'm channel-surfing like a pro at Mavericks when I happen upon the MIT Team story on the Discovery Channel.
Visions of Rainman... MIT... My SAT scores are running through my head....
F'em I hear a voice from deep inside my soul! Those bastards have been stealing my money for years! (Actually, after I learned what I did, I realize that my visions of me being Rainman are more valid than not - Casino's win, period - why didn't I realize this earlier?)
Anywho. I'm in Vegas. Now running through one of the most run-down sections of Vegas I can find due to nutty Asian cab driver dropping me off way too far away from the Gambling store. I make it there where a gentleman sets me up with the KO Book and some good advice.
I leave - we'll skip how I got back - thats another long story.
My girlfriend and I start reading the book and we both begin to hear the Rocky "Bells" ringing in the room. We practice...we learn...we train... she stands up, rips her bra of...wait.. that's another story as well....
Friday night - learn the system. Saturday night - turn 5 hunny into 4 G's. Yep, this corporate dorko got one over on those son's a bitches!
Now, here is the kicker. My counting sucked that night. I was scared and drinkin and really couldn't do it well at all. My girlfriend was much better at it. And frankly, after learning to count, learning the odds, etc. I realized that I don't have a friggin chance against these guys. I literally went to the tables and loose with a sense of empowerment. That empowerment was that I couldn't win! I understood it! I at least - had control! I knew the statistics, I knew how bad I had played previously not doubling or splitting with any sense of normalcy. I was now in the drivers seat of my own demise, and happy is how I felt.
So, I start playing. My girlfriend is counting, as she is better with the observance of details than I am. I am just playing right, and winning, some, loosing some, all the time, talking to the dealer about "Have you ever had a card counter here?" as I sip my Jack and Coke. This smileing bloke says "Well, you certainly aren't one!"
The dealer deals, everyone on the table is hitting - cards are falling like snow in Colorado - not one a face card. Six players at the table plus the dealer. Now, I am not counting but my brain says "Well, if the count was close, it just has to be there now". I take a 1 to 10 spread. BAM. Black Jack.
This non-counting technique, of watching for runs of low cards, fazed by Jack and Coke's, and basically 1 to 5 spreads, and a few hours later, I am sitting there with 2500 bucks. 5 Times my money. As the dealer is shuffling, I remembered what the MIT Team said "Get the Money out." Time to leave.
"You have a good run going" says first base
F-it I say - it takes money to make money.
500 down - my original bankrole.
A 3 sotfly lands in front of me. "Give me an 8 dealer, let's make this interesting".
My eight, compliments the three on the table, in an almost taunting fashion.
Without hesitation, I double my bet. My chip almost races the card to the table.
The dealer is showing T.
Turns over a three.
By now, the three stooges, ie. the pit bosses who seem to think my drunk ass is some sort of a threat, have circled the table like hockey players waiting for a ref to throw down a puck.
The dealer adds a T to his T3 and I win.
2500 becomes 3500 and I leave.
What a night. All thinks to a book, a man, and some luck. I do believe I played perfect blackjack, I believe I did spread my bet while trying my best to count off of strings of low cards - large strings at that - and having some fun and luck.
The next night I won another 1000 bucks. And over the next two days, gave that back.
I became much better at counting, even to the point of 'acting'. I didn't want to get caught. It actually became fun. I mean real fun. Acting like I didn't know what to do - the F-ing college kids slowly giving their money away slowly, helping me decide what to do, when...
I was honestly even when counting, and the only time I lost the grand was when I bet big, without counting, for fun. Well, that fun turned to 'Ah shit' when the dealer hit 21, 20 and oh hell, something that beat me.
I am now getting better at counting and eager to try my luck next time. All in all, this has added an entire new dimension to my gambling. It became fun, and I know where I stand. I no longer look at this as gambling, I look at this as trying to go as long as I can without getting caught, and hopefully, making some money.
Cheers,
Boarding....
Visions of Rainman... MIT... My SAT scores are running through my head....
F'em I hear a voice from deep inside my soul! Those bastards have been stealing my money for years! (Actually, after I learned what I did, I realize that my visions of me being Rainman are more valid than not - Casino's win, period - why didn't I realize this earlier?)
Anywho. I'm in Vegas. Now running through one of the most run-down sections of Vegas I can find due to nutty Asian cab driver dropping me off way too far away from the Gambling store. I make it there where a gentleman sets me up with the KO Book and some good advice.
I leave - we'll skip how I got back - thats another long story.
My girlfriend and I start reading the book and we both begin to hear the Rocky "Bells" ringing in the room. We practice...we learn...we train... she stands up, rips her bra of...wait.. that's another story as well....
Friday night - learn the system. Saturday night - turn 5 hunny into 4 G's. Yep, this corporate dorko got one over on those son's a bitches!
Now, here is the kicker. My counting sucked that night. I was scared and drinkin and really couldn't do it well at all. My girlfriend was much better at it. And frankly, after learning to count, learning the odds, etc. I realized that I don't have a friggin chance against these guys. I literally went to the tables and loose with a sense of empowerment. That empowerment was that I couldn't win! I understood it! I at least - had control! I knew the statistics, I knew how bad I had played previously not doubling or splitting with any sense of normalcy. I was now in the drivers seat of my own demise, and happy is how I felt.
So, I start playing. My girlfriend is counting, as she is better with the observance of details than I am. I am just playing right, and winning, some, loosing some, all the time, talking to the dealer about "Have you ever had a card counter here?" as I sip my Jack and Coke. This smileing bloke says "Well, you certainly aren't one!"
The dealer deals, everyone on the table is hitting - cards are falling like snow in Colorado - not one a face card. Six players at the table plus the dealer. Now, I am not counting but my brain says "Well, if the count was close, it just has to be there now". I take a 1 to 10 spread. BAM. Black Jack.
This non-counting technique, of watching for runs of low cards, fazed by Jack and Coke's, and basically 1 to 5 spreads, and a few hours later, I am sitting there with 2500 bucks. 5 Times my money. As the dealer is shuffling, I remembered what the MIT Team said "Get the Money out." Time to leave.
"You have a good run going" says first base
F-it I say - it takes money to make money.
500 down - my original bankrole.
A 3 sotfly lands in front of me. "Give me an 8 dealer, let's make this interesting".
My eight, compliments the three on the table, in an almost taunting fashion.
Without hesitation, I double my bet. My chip almost races the card to the table.
The dealer is showing T.
Turns over a three.
By now, the three stooges, ie. the pit bosses who seem to think my drunk ass is some sort of a threat, have circled the table like hockey players waiting for a ref to throw down a puck.
The dealer adds a T to his T3 and I win.
2500 becomes 3500 and I leave.
What a night. All thinks to a book, a man, and some luck. I do believe I played perfect blackjack, I believe I did spread my bet while trying my best to count off of strings of low cards - large strings at that - and having some fun and luck.
The next night I won another 1000 bucks. And over the next two days, gave that back.
I became much better at counting, even to the point of 'acting'. I didn't want to get caught. It actually became fun. I mean real fun. Acting like I didn't know what to do - the F-ing college kids slowly giving their money away slowly, helping me decide what to do, when...
I was honestly even when counting, and the only time I lost the grand was when I bet big, without counting, for fun. Well, that fun turned to 'Ah shit' when the dealer hit 21, 20 and oh hell, something that beat me.
I am now getting better at counting and eager to try my luck next time. All in all, this has added an entire new dimension to my gambling. It became fun, and I know where I stand. I no longer look at this as gambling, I look at this as trying to go as long as I can without getting caught, and hopefully, making some money.
Cheers,
Boarding....
