February 14, 2010
I almost bailed on Bingo Friday night. The two-week adrenaline rush that accompanied the launch of this Web site thudded to a crashing halt at about 4 o’clock, and I just could not picture myself driving in the dark and cheerfully flitting from Bingo to Bingo. But the show must go on, so on I went. And Friday night, Bingo was a show—a full-fledged comedy show. I’m so glad I didn’t miss it.
Everyone seemed happy. There was no tension. No one raised his voice. And everyone was funny.
** Ray McDade usually doesn’t settle for simply calling "bingo." He usually calls, "bingo, bango, bongo." Friday night, he even sang: "Bingo, Bango, Bongo; I don’t want to leave the Congo." I’m not sure anyone applauded, but a lot of people smiled.
** Victor, the man who had tipped over in front of me not too long ago, strolled through Bingo, reassuringly strong and steady, but he didn’t stay to play. He did, though, stop to give me a unique compliment. "You just look so clean," he said. I laughed, but thanked him sincerely. There are certainly worse things to hear.
** A few numbers on the Bingo board weren’t lighting when they should, and lots of people were calling Bingos without really having one. I was standing near Gary when he erupted into a loud "Bing!" "What was that?" I said. He thought he’d had a whole Bingo, but didn’t, and caught himself after the first syllable. "I just like saying ‘bing,’" he smiled.
** A lot of people start to pack up during the last game of Blackout, eager to beat the rush out the door. Dorothy, who had won the first Blackout, had on her coat and scarf and was standing just inside the doorway when she won Blackout again. "Wow! You are hot tonight!" I told her. "It’s because I have my scarf on," she grinned.
** Ed asked me to give him a push back to his room. I’d never been there before, and I was awestruck by the beautiful plants he had along his windowsill. They were huge, lush things, deep green with new growth. "Would you like to know what I feed them?" Ed asked. "Everyone thinks I use Miracle-Gro or a special fertilizer." It sounded highly secretive, and obviously successful. I was hooked. "Water," he deadpanned. It was the first time I’d seen Ed laugh, and it was the perfect happy cap to a laugh-filled—and very reinvigorating—night of Bingo.
I almost bailed on Bingo Friday night. The two-week adrenaline rush that accompanied the launch of this Web site thudded to a crashing halt at about 4 o’clock, and I just could not picture myself driving in the dark and cheerfully flitting from Bingo to Bingo. But the show must go on, so on I went. And Friday night, Bingo was a show—a full-fledged comedy show. I’m so glad I didn’t miss it.
Everyone seemed happy. There was no tension. No one raised his voice. And everyone was funny.
** Ray McDade usually doesn’t settle for simply calling "bingo." He usually calls, "bingo, bango, bongo." Friday night, he even sang: "Bingo, Bango, Bongo; I don’t want to leave the Congo." I’m not sure anyone applauded, but a lot of people smiled.
** Victor, the man who had tipped over in front of me not too long ago, strolled through Bingo, reassuringly strong and steady, but he didn’t stay to play. He did, though, stop to give me a unique compliment. "You just look so clean," he said. I laughed, but thanked him sincerely. There are certainly worse things to hear.
** A few numbers on the Bingo board weren’t lighting when they should, and lots of people were calling Bingos without really having one. I was standing near Gary when he erupted into a loud "Bing!" "What was that?" I said. He thought he’d had a whole Bingo, but didn’t, and caught himself after the first syllable. "I just like saying ‘bing,’" he smiled.
** A lot of people start to pack up during the last game of Blackout, eager to beat the rush out the door. Dorothy, who had won the first Blackout, had on her coat and scarf and was standing just inside the doorway when she won Blackout again. "Wow! You are hot tonight!" I told her. "It’s because I have my scarf on," she grinned.
** Ed asked me to give him a push back to his room. I’d never been there before, and I was awestruck by the beautiful plants he had along his windowsill. They were huge, lush things, deep green with new growth. "Would you like to know what I feed them?" Ed asked. "Everyone thinks I use Miracle-Gro or a special fertilizer." It sounded highly secretive, and obviously successful. I was hooked. "Water," he deadpanned. It was the first time I’d seen Ed laugh, and it was the perfect happy cap to a laugh-filled—and very reinvigorating—night of Bingo.
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