Online Casino Reviews

I was sitting at the bottom of a shabby roulette table inside the dingy Silver Spur at the intersection of Main and Fremont in downtown Las Vegas.

When it first hit me that I had probably discovered the best  cheating move in the history of casino gambling, one that appeared absolutely flawless, with minimal risk-even when getting caught red-handed-I experienced a feeling of euphoria that would have been complete had it not been for the sliver of doubt that naturally crept into my brain. During two decades of cheating the world's legally operating casinos at their own games, using a variety of sleight of-hand moves, some rank, others good, still others really good, that so-called dream move had eluded me until that hot August night in 1995,

I was sitting at the bottom of a shabby roulette table inside the dingy Silver Spur at the intersection of Main and Fremont in downtown Las Vegas. Diagonally across the worn, coffee-stained layout sat my partner in crime, Pat, who'd been working the casinos with me for the past sixteen months. We were both casual in jeans and cotton shirts. Also at the table was the usual downtown assortment of multiracial degenerates, some wagering with two-dollar-gets-you-  three-dollar paper coupons that dripped beer-or God knows what else-others with the remnants of their social security checks, which by the looks of what they were wearing could have certainly been put to better use. The occasional tourist dropping a bet on that table didn't even hang around for a second spin when it won. If it wasn't the bowling-alley smell or clanging slot-machine noise that chased them out, it was the horrific click-clack cocktail-waitress call emanating from the device being squeezed in one of the oily-looking pit boss's hands. I would have been chased out of there myself, had it not been true that the Silver Spur was probably the only casino left in Vegas where I wouldn't run into anyone I knew or, better yet, run into someone who knew me.

Pat and I often went downtown to test new cheating moves be¬fore going for the real money on the Las Vegas Strip. The trick here was to place a red five-dollar chip atop a green twenty-five-dollar chip on the roulette layout in such a way that the dealer would not see the bottom chip's greenness and therefore assume both chips were red. Knowing that dealers in the bust-out joints downtown were required to announce green chips on the layout, we'd know right away if the little Korean girl named Sun saw the one I was trying to hide underneath the red. We hoped she didn't, but as I delicately placed the two round chips in the first of the three 2-to- I column boxes at the bottom of the layout, carefully measuring the angle and distance that I let the top red chip protrude off the green, I had serious doubts about the whole damned scheme. I even thought about saying good night to Pat so that I could rush home to catch a rerun of Law & Order.

But Sun never called out, "Green action on the layout," and I was absolutely sure she'd looked at my bet-at least three times. Seeing it from the back, the green chip stuck out like a sore thumb.

Pat and I shot each other surprised looks. I furrowed my brows at him as if to say, "Maybe she actually didn't see it." But I was thinking she had to see it, that perhaps she was just too lazy to call it out to the supervising floorman, or she had indeed called it out but had one of those ultra-soft Oriental voices that didn't carry well amid  the din in the casino. As an ex-casino dealer myself, I knew a lot of dealers didn't give a shit and wouldn't bother straining their voices to alert superiors about the presence of a lousy green chip.

Sun spun the ball and we waited. If the bet lost, we'd place it again; if it won, we'd have our answer. Would she correctly pay me twice the $30 in chips sitting in the betting box, or mistakenly pay $20-2 to I for the two red chips we hoped she thought were there?

Duke and Jerry showed up at the apartment at 8:30. Duke was wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and a ball cap. Jerry had on a dress shirt and slacks. Their respective functions as mechanic and check-bettor made no particular demands on their wardrobe, so each attired himself to his own taste. I, however, had to put on the suit, despite the heat that didn't let up much summer nights in the desert. Joe had gone through my bedroom closet and decided that the lone suit hanging there wasn't suited to my role, so he bought me two new ones with money from the team bankroll. Everybody's clothes came off the top; nobody got chintzy if one guy got a suit while another only a shirt or a pair of pants. Joe tolerated no un classy acts in his operation.

Our goal for the night was two paid roulette moves, to try and pick up $7,000. The first target was the Sands, another classy Strip casino used to the big action. Jerry got on the table first and bought in for their dark brown chips. They went best with the black. Joe followed a few minutes later and bought the off-whites from the stacks at the rear of the dealer's chip well. They both sat at the table making minimum bets, waiting for one of the chairs at the bottom of the table to become vacant. Duke stood nearby, waiting to pounce on it; he didn't want to lose it to yet another player who might end up staying there a long time, further delaying our move. 

Again, it took over an hour for the team to get properly in position another wheel across the pit. Joe signaled, and I walked up to the table and made the setup bet, again on 33. The dealer alerted the floor man, who came over and watched her spin the ball. I lost the bet and retreated back to my position across the pit.

Four spins later, the dealer hit number 31, and Joe joined me back to the table. In the same basic fashion as at the Tropicana that afternoon, the dealer swept the losing chips off the layout, then turned to get the two off-white stacks he needed to pay Joe's winning bet on the third-dozen box. This particular female dealer's turn was more pronounced than Willie's had been at the Trop. Duke went right out and popped in the move, casually leaving the table.

While claiming, I noticed that two of the dark brown chips now underneath the marker were a little beveled, one slanted slightly off the other, and that all four of them, including the black, were slightly off center. Duke's speed had been good, but his placement was just a little off. I feared the inaccuracy of the move might cause me a problem but didn't let it stop me from claiming. I had discussed that exact situation with Joe. He'd said that if I ever noticed something amiss during a move, I had the final say regarding the claim and could cancel or abandon it at any time. The chins he gave only concerned conditions inside the casino and at the table. They represented a positive evaluation of casino personnel, determining that the atmosphere was right for a move. It was also Joe's responsibility as head of our security to observe the other players wherever the move went down. Had he seen somebody that bothered him-a potential rat or, undercover gaming agent-he would obviously nose off the move.

Nobody in the pit seemed to notice the imperfection of Duke' move, and I was quickly paid the $3,500. I let the black chip rid on number 31. After it lost, I left the casino and walked to the bar in the Castaways casino.

The second $3,500 payoff came off a roulette table at the Bal1 bray Coast, a casino we didn't work much because of its proximity to the Four Corners, the intersection of the Strip and Flamingo Ro: where Caesars Palace, the Dunes, the MGM Grand, and the FI mango Hilton all stood. Since those four casinos were all majors one.

Cat-and-Mouse

The pit boss approached the table and got as close to Jerry as possible, then said to him rudely, "Why don't you pay him." Then he turned his back to us and picked up the phone which was on the podium right behind table. It would have been to our advantage had the podium been father down the pit in a sticky situation like that. I would've been able to disappear easier without the pit boss seeing me go. But now he was able to keep me in his sight, looking me dead in the eye as he talked into the receiver, undoubtedly the surveillance room on the other end. He did absolutely nothing to mask the contempt he was feeling. Before he hung up, Joe crossed behind me and distinctly said, "Gallo!"

Without any further ado, I swiped the purples from the betting square along with the backup chips, stuffed them into my jacket pocket, bolted out of the chair, and sprinted for the side exit at the far end of the casino. The dealer panicked and shrieked his protest. I was about halfway to the exit when I heard the pit boss that’d been on the phone cry out, "Security! Grab him!"

I plowed into the exit doors, bursting them open with my palms acting as a battering ram. I ran as hard as I could through the parking lot, trying to get off the property as fast as possible. I looked behind me; there were two uniformed security guards chasing, but I had at least a hundred yards on them. To my right was Las Vegas Boulevard (the Strip). I debated whether I should cross the street to the other side. There were throngs of people walking along both sides; I figured it would be easier to disappear along the boulevard. I'd pull the chips out of my pocket and toss the jacket, blend in with everybody else.

I started angling for the street, looking for a spot where I could cut through the endless parade of yellow lights, but the automobile traffic was just too heavy. I would risk never making it to the other side if I attempted to cross, so I continued running straight ahead as  fast as I could, weakening slightly but still confident I could shake the security guards, who were bogged down by their equipment belts- and their guns.

Another look behind me and I didn't see them. I slowed down a little.

"Freeze!" a husky male voice suddenly called out.

I turned around as I requisitioned my stride. Unbelievably, there was a new uniformed security guard right on my heels-ten yards behind. He couldn't have been from the Desert Inn, I thought, as I ran again for my life. He had to be from one of the little motels I had passed en route. Security from the Desert Inn must have radioed ahead.

I kept running.

"Freeze!" the guard ordered again.

I turned around again in midst ride. The gap between us had widened-doubled. I felt a surge of adrenaline as my confidence soared. I would outrun this guy, too. A flash from the backroom experience I'd had in Lake Tahoe five years earlier passed through my mind. I didn't want to go through that ordeal again, perhaps face a bust.

"Freeze, or I'll shoot!" the officer demanded.

I didn't stop and wasn't about to-until I heard a loud report from his gun. The fucking guy actually fired a warning shot!

"Freeze, or I'll drop you!"

I turned around, still running, but now panting and out of breath.

The security guard was about twenty yards behind and still had the gun in his hand. When he saw me turn around, he squatted into a shooting position, the pistol barrel aimed at my chest. I could see a flicker of light bounce off the metal.

I flung my hands above my head in surrender. It was over. The gunshot unnerved me. I couldn't believe the guy had actually fired a shot. Had I not stopped, would he really have shot me in the back? I was just a fleeing past poster.

Casino story

Meet celebrities at Casino

Las Vegas is known as `sin city’ because of its wild and rampant casino playing, however now a days it has spread to all over Europe and US. On my last visit to the Sin City, it was teeming with casinos. Though, I do not remember vividly the name and address of the casino; I had a gala time there. I engrossed myself in the play of roulette. And believe you me; I had a ball of a time there. Apart from winning a mammoth amount, I had good recreation as well. Frankly speaking the casino was smoke infested. I inhaled a concoction of a variety of highs; nevertheless I enjoyed myself. From my point of view one visit to a land casino is a must; the experience would be worth remembering.

The ambience of the casino was quite weird, though it depends on how you take it. People from all walks of life were present there. In the hullabaloo, it was quite difficult to identify myself with anyone. I met John Forgerty of the renowned band Credence Clear Water Revival (CCR) there. Incidentally, he was one of the campaigners for the presidential electoral, apart from Bruce Springsteen. He happens to be a very talented musician and an ardent casino player. Unfortunately, I was not fortunate enough to play with him. When a personality like him is attracted to casinos, one can imagine the effect such a happening would have on a layperson like me. This occurrence changed my concept for the game. This generated my desire to learn the game pattern and sharpen my mind which helps me get relaxed after hectic business tours. This paved the way for my psychological and mental growth too.

Further often, I continued my visit to land casinos to see and meet celebrities playing different casino games and enjoy my late evenings with my business partners at the visiting city’s promising casinos.

 Later on when I returned to my hometown Sarasota (SRQ), I joined online Virgin and `888- Casino on net’ Casino and have won a lot of money there. At times, I found similar feeling like being in any land casino that too within the comforts of my home. At online also I invited few celebrities for the game, and I am glad that today I have two celebrities who are my regular game partner which whom I enjoy the most. Further I have observed that in online I have stood winner often, which was not so at the time of land casino play. Might me, online I have more concentration over the game rather than else ……..

Casino Business

Casino Countermeasures

The casino is a business just like any other. Let's face it, competition is steep and upkeep is expensive. It costs lots of money to build hotels with suites the size of small cities, give out free drinks all night long, and maintain a workforce right down to the guy whose duties include imprinting the hotel's logo in the sand of every ashtray. A well-run business tries to address or eliminate all inefficiencies, no matter what size. Imagine a house in the dead of winter. Advantage players are like open windows in that house-window open perhaps only a crack, but nevertheless open. Another example: why do most companies turn off the warehouse lights when the warehouse isn't operating?

  Card counters take up space. In a casino, a blackjack table is worth so many dollars per square foot. And a seat at that blackjack table is worth "x" dollars an hour when filled, with "x" being dependent on a number of variables ranging from player skill to average bet size. To the casino, a card counter playing at a positive expectation represents a reverse cash flow. In fact, it's a situation similar to the swing experienced when you lose a hand you normally should have won. Instead of winning $450, you lose $450, resulting in a $900 swing. If a seat is worth $69 per hour to the casino, and you're making $63 per hour, then the total swing for the casino is actually $132 per hour-a bit higher than just your take-away amount. Word gets around, and coming down hard on any and all advantage players prevents a casino from becoming known as easy.

''J.J. mentioned the Galapagos Island Casino is dealing its four-deck game down to under half a deck."

"Really? I'll be in that part of the world next Tuesday. I was planning to hit Easter Island's casino, but since penetration in the Galapagos is so good I'll go there instead. And I think Kaitlyn is planning a trip next month. I'll mention it to her as well."

From the casino's perspective, call it the gnat syndrome: one becomes two becomes four becomes eight and so on. One gnat isn't bad, but when is there ever only one?

Note, too, that information like penetration levels is meaningless to non-counters. The casinos aren't getting extra market share from normal losing players, only an increase in visitation from card counters.

Situations become personal confrontations. I've experienced all kinds of heat in my career, from civilized back offs to uncivilized barring to procedural changes that were made with an undertone of hostility. In the instances when I've encountered uncivilized treatment, it was obvious that the parties involved had it out for me simply because I was an advantage player applying a skill with which I had become proficient. It seemed to become somewhat of a personal confrontation-my playing in their pit, or on their turf, and beating them. I suppose it's just the sadder side of human nature for some people to become antagonistic towards others who are good at something cerebral, or who stand to gain from their ability. If card counters must be barred, backed off, or treated unlike everyone else, then why not make it strictly an unemotional business decision, and leave the antagonism out of it?

Resistance exists because it's allowed to exist. After all, what industry provides the number one source of income to the state of Nevada? With that said, why should the law limit what casinos can and cannot do while staying within the law? I don't believe it's really any more complicated than that.