When I was much younger I caught the attention of the British Government.
Not in a good way.
It decided I was a gangster.
Yes, I have a shady past.
Women love men with shady pasts.
My father was looking at buying an island in the Bahamas and invited me to tag along while he went to his meetings.
Sun, sea, beach, bikinis.
I really was missing Hawaii.
Of course, but I’ll skip the meetings.
So he did meetings and I rented a motorbike to putt around by day and hit the casino and/or bars by night.
I figured when I ran out of money I’d go back home.
So I lived the good life until I was down to my last $50.
Putt-putt over to the casino, plop it down on the Blackjack table and let her rip.
Lose – I go home.
Win – I stay until I’m down to $50 again and back to the casino.
A simple plan is always the best one.
It probably is important to note I never had gambled much and my total knowledge of Blackjack came from a five-minute chat with one of my father’s friends months earlier.
I figured I’d go broke – and out of there – quickly.
I cleaned up.
I walked out of there with a fist full of cash and I was good for another week of the high life.
Down to $50 again – back to the tables.
This went on for six weeks.
It was amazing and I was awesome.
They should make a movie about that.
I’d like Leonardo DiCaprio to play me please.
And the love interest – a short brunette would be nice.
It was like dropping by a bank with my hand out.
Then one night there was a knock at door.
The Bahamian police had arrived.
Three very big gentlemen.
“The government of the Bahamas sends its regards and it’s time for you to leave.”
Seems someone in the Ministry of Whatever decided I was a professional gambler.
This was back when the Bahamas were still under Great Britain and the Queen was the boss.
I can only assume she was not amused by my good fortune.
It was like a bad movie.
Get out of Dodge by noon the next day or I would be arrested and deported.
One officer said, “You can do it the easy way – or the hard way”.
I suppose he’d been watching the same bad movies
But it really sounded weird in a Bahamian accent.
Anyway, If I left they’d skip all that messy fingerprinting and jail stuff.
I’d seen enough bad movies myself to figure out what might be the best path.
10 o’clock the next morning I saved taxi fare by riding in the back of a police car to the airport and they walked me to the plane.
We shook hands and laughed about how stupid the whole thing was.
I was then thrown out of the country.
I didn’t know whether to be proud or bummed.
Decided number one was best.
That ended my life of crime.
Is there a moral to all this?
Of course – women love men with shady pasts.
Except for the Queen.