My Doctorate Thesis: Bingo Halls are the Microcosm of American Society

Alright, I'm not really writing my thesis on bingo halls and come to think of it, I'm not even going to get my doctorate (at least not on Bingo). But, my experience last night at Jackpot Bingo in Brandon, FL, was definitely one for the books -- and as Shelley suggested, a possible documentary we might need to put together for the Discovery Channel.

Before I left for Bingo last night, Ryan told me that he didn't want me to get addicted and I laughed at him. I mean, come on, how could I possibly get addicted to this game? I never win and let's be real, I only have 2 daubers. If I were addicted, surely I would have more daubers than that AND a bingo-themed chair pad for my butt AND a bingo-themed bag to carry all my daubers and lucky charms and tape and garbage bag. The list goes on and on.

I met my friend, Shelley, for dinner and planned to meet up with my other friend, Nikki and her friend at the Bingo Hall. We arrived at the Bingo Hall and as I looked into the window and saw the bingo boards hung up on the wall, I got this little tinge of excitement that ran up my spine. As I took a deep breath, held it as I walked into the smoky hall, I really had this feeling that tonight was my night. Yeah, tonight was going to be the night I was going to come home with the big money.

And then, this husky voice came from a lady behing the counter telling us to get into the back of the line and I snapped out of my daydream and realized I was in for some serious bingo playing. This isn't like your momma's bingo with the little bingo chips -- this crowd had one mission and that was to win and win it all. Still dozing in and out of fantasyland, I was mesmerized by all the different daubers. There were little ones and normal sized ones (all about size, I know) and ones with metallic lids and some with glittery lids. I felt like a kid in a candy store. Since I didn't need to add to my dauber collection though, I passed on the daubers and asked for 36 cards and paid my $21 to play for the night.

I looked around the room and there wasn't one smiling face in the crowd. I went from the nostalgic feeling I got at church bingo, to this "oh my gosh, what did I get myself into" feeling and wondered if Shelley and I were going to be safe. It was apparent that we were Bingo Hall virgins and looking like lost souls, we longed for some guidance and someone, anyone who would take us under their flabby bingo arms and point us in the right direction. We wandered into the "non-smoking" (and I use that term LOOSELY!) looking for two seats next to each other plus room for our friends and wouldn't you know that not one person offered to move over an inch to hook us up!

We finally found a spot where Shelley could sit across from me and as I started to set-up and ask questions to the lady I was about to sit next to, she gets her stuff, starts packing it up and moves to another table. It was almost like it was out of a movie. New girl sits down at popular kids table. Popular kid gets disgusted at new girl and popular kid gets up and moves. So to make the best of it, I smile and think to myself, "oh goodie more room for me and now the other two girls can sit next to us when they get here!"

My friend finally arrives with her friend and as I'm showing her where she is going to sit, the little old lady sitting diagonally from me tells them they can't sit there because that is all her stuff and she wouldn't move it. Let's just say I was slightly shocked and not all little old ladies are nice. (I'm being polite by saying that.) Needless to say, we didn't get to sit with Nikki and her friend. Keep in mind that bingo hasn't even started yet.

We played as many bingo games as we could, bought a couple extra games here and there and unfortunately, I left a loser. But, I didn't leave without taking away a few thoughts about what I saw last night.

Bingo Halls are filled with the most diverse people. Much like American society, people come in all different shapes and sizes and from various financial backgrounds. The Bingo Hall was no different. You had people in there that looked like they walked right off the street with what donations they could get from the corner of the highway trying to win the big jackpot. Then you had the newcomers, like us, who just wanted to go and have a good time -- and maybe win some money while we were at it. Then there was Ruth, who comes everyday - through sickness and health (she was vomiting midway through the night and had to leave...and she was sick the night before at bingo, too...nice of her to share!), has her seat reserved with her butt cushion and was helpful during every game telling us what to do if we fell behind. You've got the mean old ladies who are just plain old mean. You've got the younger old ladies who had plastic surgery and wear tight sweaters embroidered with their names and a bingo board and don't forget the ladies that cash their social security checks and spend it all on one night of bingo.

But you can't beat what I saw to be the biggest sacrifice I saw last night. This is a lady who truly loves bingo. She was the lady that was attached to a nebulizer, sitting in the non-smoking room that clearly was still smoky, and doing breathing treatments all night while she played her 45 cards. Talk about a love for the game.

I couldn't help but feel slightly bad last night for some of these people. To many of them, it's probably their way of life. This is the way they lose their money. This is the way they win their money. Are they gambling their retirement away? Is this all the money they were left with after their spouses passed away? Is the root of all evil actually bingo because it really made some of these people so darn mean?!

I had to think about how lucky I was last night...even though I didn't win. I mean, I got to play bingo as a leisure activity. I went to try and have fun. I wasn't there to try and make a ton of money. I was looking for some "therapy" and to have a good time. There were so many miserable people there, I wondered why they would even go if they were going to get so upset over someone new sitting near them. Oh well, fooey on them. The meanest thing I could probably fight back with was the hope that they wouldn't win anything!

So now, my entrepreneurial blood began to flow and bingo is such an untapped market! We should really position it as a sport -- create bingo jerseys with numbers like 'B-4' or 'O-69'; have pants that already have padding built in; customized dauber cozzies that keep your dauber nice and cool while you heat it up playing bingo; glittery bags for daubers; maybe a bingo athlete to help promote products like ointments or something...this could be such a moneymaker! Who is with me?

Oh, and can we just talk about the fact that they took the fun out of calling "bingo" because now, these fogies just raise their hands. If I ever win at that place, call and ambulance because I'm gonna give those people a heart attack when I scream "bingo" at the top of my lungs and maybe I'll even do a dance to accompany it. That's how I'm gonna roll.