It’s funny how everything illegal is universal. Drugs, gambling, prostitution. Making a law to fight it doesn’t snuff it out. It’s just a reality. It’ll be done somehow, someway.

I live in Daejeon, South Korea. I went north to Seoul to see my friends off for their going-away party. It’s about an hour away on the fast train.

At the bar we banter and celebrate our friends’ imminent departure. Shockingly fast, the games began.

강남스타일

My friend took out five dice and tossed them onto the pool table. We’re gonna play Threes. I didn’t know how to play but learned fast. Skin in the game incentivizes immediate understanding. You roll the dice up to five times. Low score is the winner. Every roll you have to keep at least one die. A three is worth zero and everything else is face value. A score of four is respectable and under is gravy.

We started out low stakes, a buck a player. The rounds came and went, winner taking seven or eight per. One game went particularly long—twenty bucks to me. I’m up $15.

We ratcheted up. Buy-in went from a buck to ten. It really is remarkable how the changing stakes heightens your focus.

We’re not high-rollers. We’re poor-ish English teachers. Every game now is worth close to $100. Green notes stacked on the felt, this is serious money for us. And I hate losing.

I lost a few rounds and was very near to bowing out. I throw ten bucks in anyway. I played conservatively and won the pot. Eighty bucks to me.

That was the end of my line, for the most part. I had to float my friend $20 for two bets and enough-is-enough after they raised the stakes to $20 a roll. I later learned that one of the players was a bit of a gambling addict. The Madness had set in as I wisely stepped out. I became an accepted spectator. The last few games netted the winner something like $180 each.

The bar turned a blind eye to all of this. They were excited for the business. The game was organic and started of its own accord. The people who wanted to play flocked to the table and those that didn’t did not. People who didn’t want to put money down still could watch and bought drinks to entertain themselves whilst vicariously living through our wallets. No one gave a shit. It was glorious.

It struck me during the game how we all instantly agreed to the rules. People came together to play a stupid game for a shot at making some money. And those that won and lost understood that the rules to play were arbitrary. But they were agreed to. If it’s arbitrary for one and all then it’s not so arbitrary after all. A beautiful system with no leaders, no kings—simply a mutual understanding between blokes, a glint in the eye for some weekend cash.

We self-regulated. There was no muscle involved, but we all understood that if someone tried some fuckery, there were plenty of eyes and arms to make sure the money didn’t flee unjustly. Having money on the felt makes one very mindful.

No police; no guards; no threats; no violence; no force. Just fun.

I ended up $26 even after I gave the twenty to my friend. Damn good in my book, paying for the entertainment and festivity for three hours and still ending up in the green. Another fun foray into the life of “sin” that people wrongfully cast shade upon.

At least half of the fun is the seediness of it all. Adrenaline and cash naturally make up the rest. That’s what the government can’t ever learn: That which is illegal is inherently desirable. Tell people that they can’t do something and a portion of the population is going to say “Fuck off” simply to thumb their nose.

I know I do.

It was a beautifully organic experience. Out of sight from the law, and everyone regulating each other voluntarily. Curious how that seems to work out.

And I’m still in the green.