I can’t bring myself to play Bingo on a cruise ship. I’m not going to lie: I have done it, but just once. I didn’t mean for it to happen; it was a weak moment. I didn’t win and I still don’t get the attraction.
Maybe it’s because I worked at a Bingo hall taking pizza orders as a teenager. The pizza was good. The Bingo? Not so much. There were the good luck charms and the gazillion cards per person, as if one card wasn’t enough to win. And when someone won a jackpot, somewhere in the vicinity of twenty bucks, the reaction was equal to winning a million bucks in a lottery today. Of course, as we Wrinkleds know, there was no lottery back then; no computers; no internet. Unless you visited Vegas, Bingo was pretty much the only form of legalized gambling. Okay. There was one other gaming option in my neck of the woods. You could play numbers with the local Bookie which was illegal, but rampant in my neighborhood. In fact, when I was six, I recall giving a nickel to a relative, also a local Bookie, and winning a cool $5. When my parents found out, they reprimanded the relative, but I got to keep my five bucks. I learned early that Bingo winnings were a pittance compared to what you got from a Bookie.
But I digress…
Every time there’s a Bingo game happening onboard, the room is packed with players. I’m not playing because, well, I’m not bored enough to do so. And let’s face it, at $20 or more a game, two or three times a week, I could save enough by not playing to take a tour or dine at a specialty restaurant because the odds are I’m not going to win.
I know I am probably alone in my anti Bingo stance. I am a minority in a Bingo frenzied world.
Sometimes it’s hard being the only voice of reason when everyone else is playing …BINGO!