Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Tonight’s Bingo crowd was the smallest ever—just 10 people to start. And since 10 bingos are rewarded per game, that meant everyone was a winner; the only suspense was the prize-picking order.
It was a good group of Bingo regulars: Ken Levick, Dorothy, Jim, Ray McDade, Ann Lawson, Leo Martell, Leo Burton, Cal Bush, David Fox and Royal, plus Ari the caller. The mood was light and fun, and everyone was cheerful and happy. Of course, everyone was winning. And even though a couple more people joined in later, everyone was winning a lot.
It was one of those nights when Bingo didn’t seem like work at all—just fun and games with friends. Ray said he wasn’t feeling totally right, and I told him I saw the problem: His suspenders were twisted. Dorothy showed me her new shoes. Cal said he hadn’t gone to the casino Tuesday because he’s going Saturday with his son. And to top it off, Gary and Bill Crowell both stopped by the door to talk. (Gary updated me on the rest of his casino trip: He’d found another Fireball machine, hit a rare six-Fireball bonus that paid nothing, and then put a dollar in a different, random machine that paid him $39 immediately. He was just settling in when, naturally, they announced it was time to leave. And Bill told me he needed to call me. That was all.)
I packed up everyone’s loot and went to say goodnight to Mike. He was nervous about Thursday’s Valentines Dinner.
“There’s just so much that can go wrong between now and then,” he told me.
I told him we’d be fine, and I asked him what time I should come.
“Get here at 3,” Mike said.
I laughed out loud. Our reservations are for 4:45.
“I can’t come at 3,” I told him. But I promised to shoot for 4 or 4:15. That’d give us time to exchange flowers (I had heard that the Soldiers Home was ordering corsages for the men to present, so I had stopped on my way to Bingo to order a boutonniere), take pictures—and take a few deep breaths.
Tonight’s Bingo crowd was the smallest ever—just 10 people to start. And since 10 bingos are rewarded per game, that meant everyone was a winner; the only suspense was the prize-picking order.
It was a good group of Bingo regulars: Ken Levick, Dorothy, Jim, Ray McDade, Ann Lawson, Leo Martell, Leo Burton, Cal Bush, David Fox and Royal, plus Ari the caller. The mood was light and fun, and everyone was cheerful and happy. Of course, everyone was winning. And even though a couple more people joined in later, everyone was winning a lot.
It was one of those nights when Bingo didn’t seem like work at all—just fun and games with friends. Ray said he wasn’t feeling totally right, and I told him I saw the problem: His suspenders were twisted. Dorothy showed me her new shoes. Cal said he hadn’t gone to the casino Tuesday because he’s going Saturday with his son. And to top it off, Gary and Bill Crowell both stopped by the door to talk. (Gary updated me on the rest of his casino trip: He’d found another Fireball machine, hit a rare six-Fireball bonus that paid nothing, and then put a dollar in a different, random machine that paid him $39 immediately. He was just settling in when, naturally, they announced it was time to leave. And Bill told me he needed to call me. That was all.)
I packed up everyone’s loot and went to say goodnight to Mike. He was nervous about Thursday’s Valentines Dinner.
“There’s just so much that can go wrong between now and then,” he told me.
I told him we’d be fine, and I asked him what time I should come.
“Get here at 3,” Mike said.
I laughed out loud. Our reservations are for 4:45.
“I can’t come at 3,” I told him. But I promised to shoot for 4 or 4:15. That’d give us time to exchange flowers (I had heard that the Soldiers Home was ordering corsages for the men to present, so I had stopped on my way to Bingo to order a boutonniere), take pictures—and take a few deep breaths.