Cheatin' At BINGO

I’ve told this most of this story dozens of times. It’s one of my favorite tales from my childhood. Actually, this specific story is from what for me, and for many people, is that most awkward part of life: adolescence, the wonky chapter between childhood and adulthood, and the one where we often do embarrassing things and keep secrets. So if you think you know, or want to know, the whole story, read on.

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I was 13 in the summer of ‘76, and with the Nation’s Bicentennial Celebration in full swing, people were generally in a festive mood, especially after the prior years of the “Energy Crisis” which crimped everyone’s ability to gas up their cars and RVs and hit the road. Our business sucked in 1973 and 1974, and started to improve in 1975, but in 1976, it went completely bonkers. We were so busy that on some weekends, we jammed campers into our scrabbly grass field near the road, just to give ‘em a place to sleep.

I was also just hitting puberty (a story for another day), and I seemed to have a crush on a different guy every week; sometimes a townie, other times a camper. There were plenty of teenage boys in the summer rotation, and this week, I thought Ronnie was cute. He was a grade younger, but he was athletic and nice and drove a little mini-bike.

My brother, by contrast, had an unrequited long-time crush on one of our regular campers. She was my age, much cuter, and about three cup-sizes ahead of me. She also seemed dumber than a doornail. Eddie was a pretty typical 15 year-old boy, aiming for boobs, not brains. Despite that, he was a good one; he worked hard alongside me, played his beloved trumpet during the school year, and so far, he’d resisted falling into the high-school beer-party trap, despite loads of peer pressure.

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“B-13,” I called to the room full of campers. I watched as they scanned cards, placed chips, anticipated winning. The most experienced players often sat near the Bingo caller, who at this moment, was me. Eddie and I rotated shifts calling the games, held in our upstairs rec room every Saturday night from 8-to 10 p.m., while Dad monitored the beer keg and doled out pitchers to tables with empty cups. The attic was hot, but as long as the beer flowed, people played. We took a short half-time break, and ended every night with the closing “Goodnight Special Double Jackpot” Game, a guaranteed crowd-pleaser. Eddie and I could not wait for that game to end, as it signaled our freedom for the rest of the Saturday night. Our friends were always waiting across the road, deep in the woods, with a campfire, a radio, and some cold cans of Gennesee Cream Ale.

The games moved briskly this particular Saturday because of the large crowd: more players, more cards, faster “BINGOs.” Dad decided to add an extra “Goodnight special” with a Triple Jackpot because we had enough time, and it would mean more cash for us. Campers cheered! The beer keg floated and tipped over in the ice bin, signalling a successful evening. Eddie and I sighed, as it meant a delay in our arrival at the teenage makeout-in-the-woods party.

“G-55,” I called. Still no BINGO. Eddie and I swapped looks of frustration, just as the sound of “Afternoon Delight” wafted up from the Juke Box in the rec room below. I really wanted this extra game to end, to begin our Saturday night extracurriculars. Ronnie, the guy I liked that week happened to be at the campfire, and he didn’t have a girlfriend. I was full of hope. Even if we only held hands, that would be a big step for me. I wasn’t sure we’d kiss, or even if he tried, that I would know what to do. I wasn’t a fast girl, unlike the dumb blonde Eddie liked.

I noticed that one of our regulars, seated near me. who I will call “Pat,” needed only one number, I-25, to win. I rolled the wheel, and a ball rolled down the little chute.

“I-25,” came from my mouth.

“BINGO!,” came from hers.

“Eddie, check Pat’s card,” I asked, to the boos and sighs of the other players.

He called out the four winning numbers, which I verified against my board. Only problem, the last ball wasn’t I-25. It was O-75. I lied. I cheated. I called her number to end the game. I really didn’t care and it didn’t feel like cheating at the time. It felt like victory. The bonus game was finally over. Pat collected her cash and packed up her chips. We counted our cash, drained the keg, tidied the room, and helped Mom close the store.

Eddie and the dingbat disappeared behind a pine tree. Little Ronnie kissed me. I still remember the tickly feel of his peach-fuzz mustache against my lips as we embraced in the warmth of the fire, and I always smile when I think about our Saturday nigh BINGO games and my first kiss.

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*Adolescence is the period of transition between childhood and adulthood. Children entering adolescence are going through many changes in their bodies and brains. These include physical, intellectual, psychological and social challenges, as well as development of their own moral compass.