Bingo Phobia (#19)

Really?  Really.  I have a bit of Bingo phobia.  It’s true.  Weird, but true.  Why?  Well it goes like this…

Once upon a time I went on a cruise.  This was a while ago – like around ten years ago.  I was on a ship that had a more, shall we say, ‘mature’ audience.  In other words, it wasn’t a super booze cruise, party ship.  So one of the nights, we decide to play Bingo on the ship (raging good time, I know) and it was being held in the theater.  As you can imagine, with a ship full of more ‘mature’ passengers, the theater was loaded with Bingo players.  So much so, we had to go sit in the balcony.  So we settle in with our cards.  Now, I’m not one of those multi-talented, multi-faceted players that can manage 18 cards at once.  No.  I like to keep it simple, with one card – two if I’m feeling wild, crazy and ready to rock.

So there I sat in the balcony with a card or two, blotting the letter/number combinations as they were called from the stage below.  Several games in, I’m thrilled to see I have Bingo!  So of course, I raise my arm in the air and yell, “Bingo,” and I do so extra loud since I’m up in the balcony.

Feeling a bit like The Price is Right, they summons me down to the stage.  This takes a few minutes since I’m so far away.  I go happily trotting down the aisle and up the stairs to the stage and hand the Bingo Caller (is that what they call them?) my card.  He starts rattling off my letter/number combinations and gets to the last one and says, “Ohhhhh. I’m sorry Miss, but you don’t have Bingo.”

Mortified.  I am simply and totally mortified now.  I’m on stage, in front of an audience of Blue Hairs – glaring at me, pissed I stole their Bingo.  And now.  Now…I don’t even have freakin’ BINGO!!!  Are you kidding me?

He hands me back my card and kindly points the direction of the center aisle that leads to the exit of the theater.  Shameful and dejected, I walk up the aisle, with my non-winning Bingo card in my hand, turning every shade of read that comes in that giant Crayola pack of crayons.  Meanwhile, as if I’m not already embarrassed enough, all of the Blue Hairs (they are no longer ‘mature’ passengers) are booing me.  BOOING me!  Seriously?  It’s freaking Bingo.  And you’re on vacation!  Quit booing me and have a Metamucil already.  

I went back to my seat and that was it.  No longer could I play a game of carefree Bingo. And now I’ve developed this anxiety around playing it!  Seriously.

Every year, Noah’s school puts on a fundraiser around Thanksgiving called Turkey Bingo.  And every year, we go.  And I buy a stack of cards for Noah to play.  I play too, but half the time, I just pretend I’m playing – because heaven forbid I think I really get Bingo and find out I’m wrong again.  Nobody notices anyway, because they’re all playing multiple cards.  And I just sit there with my one card, sometimes blotting my letter/number combinations…and sometimes not.

Seriously ridiculous, right?  A Bingo Phobia?  Yes.  Anxiety around playing Bingo.  Sheesh.  I’m thinking, that perhaps I need to add this to my Bucket List.  I should take another cruise and play Bingo on it, from the balcony.  Sounds like a good enough excuse for another tropical vacation.

What do you think?