As I walked into the doorway of the bingo hall, the first thing that hit me was a fifteen-year-old wall of smoke. It immediately saturated every stitch of clothing I had on. I stepped in and the place fell silent. I shivered as the stares of the bingo veterans pierced my very soul. Being intimidated, I took my hat off and held it in my hand. I slowly bowed my head and headed to the check in area. The woman who was in charge started firing questions at me. I only somewhat understood what she was saying, for she seemed to be speaking in some broken bingo English. After receiving my instructions, I slowly made my way to the new guy table, but before I got there, several bingo ruffians shoulder checked me and knocked my bingo packet out of my hands. The biggest one screamed…”Get outta my way New Fish!” I gathered my things and hurried over to my table. As I sat down the warden made an announcement over the loud speaker. She stated that conversation between inmates would not be tolerated. She then proceeded to call the first game…I kept up pretty well until I realized that I was daubing the wrong card. I could hear several pros snickering at me. After the first game we moved on to a game they called blackout. I was confident that I had the right card and understood the rules, but then they brought in an auctioneer to call the numbers. After about ten missed numbers I wadded up the card…stuck my fingers in my ears and then started rocking back and forth while chanting…la la la la la. Eventually one of the old time cons got tired of me freaking out and slapped me around a little bit. She then dragged me to the bathroom for a series of swirlies. Therefore, with my mind clear and my hair in a perfect swirled point I went back out to finish my night of torture. I realized soon thereafter that I probably should have started out on the bunny slope.
Posted on: Fri, 27 Sep 2013 19:51:22 +0000
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