You pick your butter knife up off the table and stare at everyone. "I'm not going to have this decision made for me," you say, pointing your knife menacingly.
The End?
Now look, I know a lot of the effects I write up don't read like "tricks" in the traditional way. But fooling people is not the only way of giving people a magical experience. I love performing tricks and working on tricks, but that is just one aspect of creating magic.
If you google "magical," the second definition is the one that guides my relationship with magic:
mag·i·cal - beautiful or delightful in such a way as to seem removed from everyday life.
Or, from dictionary.com: Magical = mysteriously enchanting.
When someone sees a performance of Cups and Balls, or 3-Fly, I don't think they're being delighted in a way which seems "removed from everyday life." They may be fooled and entertained and amazed, but they know they're watching a performance as opposed to taking part in an experience. There is nothing wrong with that, but it's a distinction you may want to make if you're interested in giving people a different type of "magical" moment.
A personal experience is generally more affecting than a performance, even if the performance is stronger. A woman buck-naked and spread-eagle on a stage, fucking herself with an eggplant is less sexually charged than that same woman sitting next to you and resting her hand on your leg, even though that's less sexually explicit. And it's true with magic too. Something personal will often seem more magical than something more amazing but less personal.
The purpose of this trick is not to convince people that you were really all singled out by some mysterious madman to be murdered that evening. On some level they will realize the situation is orchestrated by you and it's a little production that they're taking part in. That's 100% okay. It's not about convincing people of the reality of the situation, it's about having them engrossed and intrigued in this brief interlude while you wait for your food to come or whatever. There is a magic trick (borrowed bills all have secret markings on them), but that's not what makes this magical. It's the way the situation unfolds and the implication of a broader connection between strangers that makes it "magical."
The method is Richard Sanders' Extreme Burn 2: Locked and Loaded. You pull out the gimmick as your bill and take the other bills on top. The switch now becomes an invisible switch and there is absolutely no heat on your bill, the switch, or the handing out of the bills because, as far as they know, nothing has happened yet. The bills you switch for should include at least one new-ish bill, and one old bill. That way you're covered no matter what types of bills you borrow. It's like the Tossed Out Deck principle. Anyone who remembers giving you a new bill will assume the new one is theirs, and anyone who remembers giving you an old bill will assume the old one is theirs. Make sure to draw their attention as you collect their bills. The switch is so invisible that you want them to remember that you simply gathered up the dollars, noticed something weird, and then handed them back out. As I said, there's no heat on the switch, and the markings on the bills are ten times the misdirection you need to ditch the gimmick.
A lot of you have had enough experiences with disengaged spectators that you think this type of thing will never connect with people, but I've done similar things frequently enough that I can tell you it does. I've found the more you can remove yourself as the magician from the experience, the more on board people will be. In this presentation you are not "the magician." You are not looking for acclaim or appreciation. You're just facilitating this magical experience.
People want to play. They just don't want to be forced to play, like in some corporate team-building exercise. This presentation allows people to play along if they want, or sit back and let the situation unfold without their input. Either way, I think they'll see it as a welcome break from the potentially awkward and dull chit-chat that they may have been dreading at a table full of strangers.