I wandered past our local pub this evening and saw a young guy shuffling some cards in front of what I assumed was his date. The weather wasn’t kind so it kept strolling, but if I had to guess, he was mid or pre magic magic truck.
Bold strategy.
Many, many, many years ago, I wasted an immeasurable amount of time practicing illusions. It’s a niche interest, so unsurprisingly I thought I was pretty good, pretty quick. As with all false illusions, this one crumbled fast.
I was in an Edinburgh pub when it happened. Three of us were playing cards, talking rot, waiting for the evening Fringe activities to kick off. Every hour or so, I would “wow” my friends with something I’d been working on. After a few pints, my confidence was elevated.
Unannounced, and older gentleman in a tweed suit came over and remarked on the cards, and asked if he could show us something cool. He borrowed my cards, shuffled them, made us pick a card (“any card”), then lost and found it multiple times, until finally showing it lodged in his wallet, that had been in his back pocket.
We were amazed. His wife, who I assume sees this behaviour all the time, less so.
It turns out the man was the chair of the Yorkshire Magical Arts and Wizardry council, and knew his way around a pack of cards.
I was completely mogged, and happily so.
