||When You Have to Shoot, Shoot... Don't Talk
BY: Michael Vernon
There is only one game in the casino where the casino turns control over to the player. Amazing, when I think about it now. It was during a craps game that I remembered this gift of power and took advantage of it.
It was just before six in the morning when I sauntered down from my room at Treasure Island for a game of craps, before having breakfast with my wife. The casino was quiet at that time in the morning. Only two dice tables were open. One was empty and the other had three players, who were just hanging on to their meager rack of cheques.
The working game had the energy of a hangover, with cocktail glasses still littering the drink rail from the night before. It was obvious, by their appearance, that the boys were leftovers from a long night out. Rule one, if conditions are not honoring, don't play. I will not play at a dirty table and with the alcohol induced demeanor, confirming the low energy of the game, I had one choice.
Naturally, I bought in at the empty table. Shooting from table end, my dice were looking okay. The crew were quietly chatting amongst themselves. After a short time, the boxman joined the game. On a come out roll, setting for sevens, I rolled a one/two. I followed that with another craps roll, same combination.
The boxman took obvious notice that I was setting the dice. He politely shared that he had a solution for my craps roll. I politely ignored him and tossed a third ace duce. The boxman asked me if I wanted to know the cure for rolling "Jesus", patting the craps check bet. I replied, "No hablo espanol".
Side tracking here a bit, rolling three craps in a row signaled a warning. My game was upside down. The three threes could have just as easily been three winner Yo's. I did not know exactly what to expect, but I was put on notice with the three crap rolls to be alert.
From silent power comes consolidated energy. Yet, it is still possible to communicate by holding to a discipline of not talking. If it becomes necessary to speak, at the least keep comments short, and only address matters of relevance. In a game of chance I never want to create an opening for a conversation.
The next thing I knew, after being cute with my Spanish, I received a barrage of questions from the boxman, while trying to shoot the dice. "Where are you staying, where are you from, what do you do." Even the dealers chimed in to the act.
I quickly became aware that they were messing with me while I was shooting. I couldn't blame them. What else did they have to do at six o'clock in the morning, without any customers?
Once the dice were in the air, "twenty questions" came to a halt, with the crew attending to their duties. The sudden shift in energy was like a flash of light. That's when my inner voice reminded me of the power I held between my thumb and middle finger.
The stickman pushed the dice down to me and again the interrogation ensued. However, this time I was ready for a new game. After the dice were passed to me, I made my set, picked up the dice, and began the motion of shooting. Only this time, as my arm extended, I did not release the dice, which totally faked out the stickman.
In a choreographed sweeping movement, I nodded my head to the left, gesturing silently, "Okay, you want to talk, let's talk." Waving my dice hand like a conductor leading the band, I subliminally projected a message into the heart chakra of the boxman. I beamed him with, "If you want to talk, fine, I will answer your questions, but, I'm holding the dice."
My answers switched from short responses to storytelling, all the while nonchalantly gesturing as if I had forgotten about the dice in my hand. From my inner focus, I continued to project a silent message, "You see, boys, I just want a nice quiet game, but if y'all want to mess with me while I shoot, I'll be holding on to these cubes and making up long answers to your dumb questions."
I could see by the boxman's eyes that he was a bit freaked out with me waving his dice around like a flag. Upon feeling that my message was understood, I stopped my rambling, and politely said, "Ah, but enough of my bullshit, I came to play dice." That ended "twenty questions". It all went quiet after that act and it lasted for the rest of my session.
Sure, I suppose I could have been more direct, requesting a stop to the interrogation. It may have worked. Who knows? On the other hand, doing so would have, no doubt, confirmed that the questioning was working as a distraction. Even now, I feel a rise of emotion as I write this. It is quite possible that a confrontation could have erupted with continued attempts to mess with me.
Bottom line, I got what I wanted without any argie-bargie. I was able to keep my composure and subliminally fired a warning shot across their bow. Emotionally, I was still in control and I felt that I had regained control of the game. Other action may have ruined the game and my only recourse would have been to walk away.
For the record, I did not do any real damage. I colored up with enough profit for the breakfast and a toke for the boys.
Perception of energy is a two way street. It serves best when perceived as an early warning that something is amiss. In this case, rolling ace duce, three times, was the signal. I admit that my engaging in the conversation may appear as a contradiction. Never the less, the episode lasted less than a minute. The silent power came in the form of my projected thought, which was clearly perceived by the crew. They too received an early warning.
More about "perception of information from the near future" in a blog to follow. I think I will title it, "Early Warning".
Copyright ©2017 Michael Vernon
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