My excitement about leaving town is growing steadily. And since I’m sure you don’t want to read a post every day for the next 5 days about Mexico I’m going to have to come up with another topic. On Friday, I went to Bingo.

No, I did not age 30 years overnight. A friend invited me and I said yes, seeing as when I was a kid I loved the game. That may have been before I matured and realized that I have absolutely no luck whatsoever.

Goes without saying that I did not win a thing. So, all in all, it cost me $30 and provided me with a couple hours of entertainment. Not too bad. Not only were the games entertaining, but for an experienced people-watcher such as myself, I was in heaven.

And, oh, the people that go to Bingo… that’s a demographic that is just a hair’s width away from circus side show (present company not included, of course).

Let’s see. First, there are the old ladies and gentlemen that all seem to know each other and use it as a social outlet. Then there are the old ladies and gentlemen that scurry about in between games in order to get more cards/pull tabs/kenos. The look of sheer determination on their faces is somewhat cancelled out by the grease stains on their t-shirts.

Then there are the young people. Some, usually in groups, are normal respectable people that are there for a gag (and hopefully to win some money). Some, usually alone, may or may not have a touch of meth-mouth and do this as means of weaning themselves off meth, by starting another addictive behaviour.

At one point, a group of young girls came in that were obviously supposed to go downtown to a club, but found themselves outside of Planet Bingo and thought why not? They were wearing 4 inch heels, short skirts and too much makeup. They didn’t look dirty enough to be making money dressed like that, if you know what I mean.

I mean, hookers.

Then there are the crazies. They come in all shapes, sizes and colours. There was one woman that was trying to buy tickets or something and the manager walked up and started asking her to leave. He was quiet. She was not. She started putting her hand up in the air and saying “Get the fuck out of my face” and once he continued talking with her, she started getting really irate. And not just at him, she started calling a random patron a “buttfucker”, he got mad and said “Don’t call me a fag, whore” and she said “But you are. Be proud, faggot, be proud of it. So what if you like getting fucked up the ass?!”. I stared in disbelief.

When I finally managed to tear my eyes away from the train wreck, I happened to make eye contact with an older lady across the way. She widened her eyes with an “Ooooh boy” look on her face. Then she said “This doesn’t happen very often, just so you know!” I said, “Oh, okay… *nervous laughter*” and she said “Yeah, only, maybe once a month”.

Once a month is pretty often. Unless you’re there everyday, then it’s not often, but if I decided to go weekly, I’d have a 25% chance of seeing that. Thems pretty good odds.

Better odds than winning at Bingo!

The funniest thing about that train wreck was the fact that the bingo game was apparently on pause, because as soon as the crazy lady walked out the door, the bingo caller started the next game.


So the girl that was sitting across from me & my friend was pretty young with a touch of meth-mouth. She ended up winning a game. I was pretty excited for her. Maybe more excited than she was. A friend of hers ended up joining her shortly after her win. I overheard (read: eavesdropped) the conversation she had about her win:

“So, I won just before you got here. I won $240. So that means… I’m only down $10 for today. It’s so nice to play without having to worry about how much money I’ve spent”.

I was floored. She spent $250 on Bingo?? Her friend said what we were all thinking:

“So… you’ve been here awhile then?”

No fucking kidding.