Blackjack Apprenticeship Card Counting Resources

Here is a story from a friend and fellow card counter about getting detained by the DEA.  I though you would all enjoy it.

I got detained today by TSA (airport security), the Detroit police, the DEA, and the FBI. How’s that for a day of fun?

It all started out at the Detroit airport at 6:15 am. By the time I got to the front of the security line, it was 6:45, and my flight would leave in 30 minutes. I only had 2 envelopes of cash, and I had stuffed them into the front right pocket of my new jeans. As I neared the front of the line, I noticed that one of the TSA supervisors (think T2 bad guy, Robert Patrick) was eyeing me down and whispering something to one of the screeners. I reached the metal detector and proceeded with no problems as normal. But this time when I stepped through, instead of letting me pass, the screener told me to step aside.
They gave me the full cavity search, and then began to question me.
Okay maybe not full “cavity” but there was definitely some heavy petting that.

Questions:
TSA: Why are you here?
Me: I was in town for my wife’s high school reunion.
TSA: Where’s your wife then?
Me: She’s still sleeping. I had to fly back early to work.
TSA: hmmm…what do you do for a living?
Me: I’m a video editor/filmmaker,…oh yeah, and I play professional blackjack on the side.
TSA: Looks like you did pretty well.
Me: Actually, I lost a lot.
TSA: But you’ve got 2 envelopes stuffed with cash.
Me: Yeah, I lost 5 of those.
TSA: 5 THOUSAND DOLLARS!!
Me: Uh, not really, but sure, something like that.
TSA: So, why is your ticket wet?
Me: I left it by the open window and it rained.
TSA: hmmmm… (acting like he doesn’t believe me)

The TSA supervisor has now called the Detroit police, and they are on their way. My mouth has dried up. I’ve never experienced cotton-mouth, but this must be what it is.

10 minutes later, the police officer arrives and precedes to ask me the exact same questions:
Police Officer: Why are you here?
Me: I was in town for my wife’s high school reunion.
TSA: Where’s your wife then?
Etc,etc,…

The officer continues his questioning as the time of my flight gets closer and closer. He starts getting deeper and deeper into the details of blackjack. Somehow, it has now become my responsibility to give him a crash course on Blackjack 101.

Finally, after 30 minutes and repeatedly telling the bastards I was going to miss my flight, I ask, “Can I just put my shoes on and go?” The Police officer acts like he wasn’t holding me up anyways, and agrees to let me go.

I sprint down the jet-way to the gate.
Stewardess: The plane just left, sorry.

I Nap for 3 hours on the hard benches.
I wake up to find the TSA supervisor who initially noticed the bulge in my jeans pockets standing at the airline counter. I walk over to him.
TSA: Oh hey there. I felt really bad about you missing your flight, so I came down to check on you.
Me: [silence] – I thought about saying a few things here, but held it in.
Stewardess: It’s not looking good on your stand-by flights, but we’re pulling for you.
Me: Oh, thank you so much.

I get on a plane an hour later. It’s not a direct flight, and they can’t get me a flight into my original destination, Burbank. I’m re-directed to LAX instead while my baggage sits on the carousel in Burbank, having arrived 4 hours earlier.

I sleep the whole way, and when I exit the plane, I look for the nearest bathroom. As I walk towards it, I hear someone say my name. I turn. There is a man in a Kansas City Chiefs jersey walking towards me quickly and pulling something out of his shirt.
It’s a police badge, DEA to be specific. The Drug Enforcement Agency. There are several DEA officers, and several FBI agents. They think I have drug money.
Me: Is this about that whole Detroit thing?
DEA officer: Yep, that’s it.
Me: Can I go to the bathroom first?
DEA officer: Sure, but I have to go with you. You don’t have to take a crap do you?
Me: Yeah, it’ll take about 30 minutes,…[pause]
The officer laughs awkwardly.

We exit the airport, and walk across the street.
DEA: so, what do you do for your main job?
Me: I’m a filmmaker.
DEA: What kind of stuff have you made?
Me: Documentaries, TV shows, stuff like that.
DEA: Any in particular? Then he goes on to recite some of my past work?
(At this point it becomes clear that the officer has Googled me. Evidently he’s found some clips of stuff I did for my local TV show a few years back.)
He proceeds to recite the plot of my short film. Obviously, he watched it and enjoyed it.
Me: You’ve done your research.
DEA: Yeah, what did you expect? You’re all over the internet.

The officer unlocks a metal gate. He leads me up a ramp and unlocks a door. It’s dark inside.
DEA: See, nobody’s here. They called us in from home just for you.
He leads me into a room with a desk and 2 chairs. It’s just like in the movies. It’s a plain white room with fluorescent lights and nothing on the walls. He offers me a glass of water. I decline.
DEA: Have you seen Jackie Brown?
Me: Yeah, but it’s been a long time.
DEA: Do you remember the opening sequence? That’s what we do. We seize about $10 million in drug money from the LAX airport every year.
Me: Really?
DEA: You need to go rent the movie again. You’ll like it.
Me: I will now!
DEA: We can actually just take your money, and you have to show up in court to prove that it’s legit. I’d rather let you prove it now though, and not bother.
Me: Thanks, I appreciate it.
DEA: These guys here are with the Bureau. (He points to the 2 large men that are squeezed into the small white room with us.).
DEA: I’m just waiting on my big case so I can get my FBI badge. It could be today. Are you it?
Me: I hope not.

I proceed to explain my Blackjack involvement to them. They are intrigued to say the least. They ask if they can call Greektown to verify my play there.
Me: I don’t want you to say anything about me playing professionally or being on a team or anything.
DEA: We won’t say anything. Those fuckers have ripped me off one to many times. I’m all for you taking all the money you can get from them.

They called Greektown to verify that I had played there. Then we called Bank of America and verified that I have made large transactions in the past. I guess drug dealers don’t use banks.

I’m feeling more comfortable now, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to be released soon. The officer begins to give me more details of what goes on at the LAX airport.

DEA: Yeah, you can buy 20k in drugs here, bring it back to Detroit, and sell it for $80k.
Me: Wow
DEA: It’s kind of like gambling.
Me: A little higher risk though, don’t you think?…and not quite on the up-and-up.
DEA: Yeah, but still similar.
Me: Hmmm…
DEA: Well, I’m satisfied, how about you guys? (to FBI agents)
FBI: We’re good too…My son is the manager of a casino in Vancouver. What was your name again? (he picks up my id and looks at it)
Me: Which casino is he at?
FBI: [Silence]

The DEA agent goes into the next room to get me his business card, and the FBI start asking me gambling questions.
FBI: So, is it better to play a single deck game?
Me: Unless it pays 6:5 on a blackjack.
FBI: Oh, maybe that’s why I never win. I don’t ever pay attention to what kind of game I’m playing.
FBI: So, can we be in your next movie?
Me: Yeah, let’s shoot it! It sounds like you guys have some pretty crazy stuff going on here.

The DEA agent returns and hands me his card.

DEA: Now don’t try to use this to get yourself out trouble. Don’t get pulled over and tell the cop you’re my cousin or something.
Me: haha… don’t worry, I won’t.
DEA: Seriously, I don’t want to get some call from a cop saying he’s got some kids pulled over with a bong in their car that say they know me.
Me: laughing again,…Don’t worry.
DEA: NO, SERIOUSLY.
DEA: So,… you’re free to go. At least now you can say that we don’t just arrest Black people. [laughs]

- Ryan