amvets bingo night

There I was minding my own business and the next thing I knew I was surrounded by a flock of elderly folks waiting for the next number to drop.  The coming solar eclipse had paved the way for a marathon bingo night, slated to last for nearly five hours.  I had not done this since I was about 10 and was in for a ride.

It all started reasonably enough, with food and general comradery.  All of that quickly dissipated when the numbers started to drop.  Things got serious then, so much so that our crew got shushed a couple times.  Throughout most of the event, the only noise in the room, aside from the lady calling the numbers, the ceaseless whir of smoke-eaters gobbling up the haze of cigarette smoke as quickly as it could.  The efforts was wasted.

The crowd carried on undeterred, skillfully dabbing each number called, enraptured by the sound, or lack thereof, and the promise of striking it rich.  A few did, though not quite enough to address the potential medical bills from lingering in this environment too long.  The greatest prize turned out approximately $400.  Everyone seemed to have a good time though, as long as you spoke in whispers, left the trolls where you found them, and did not count too much on making payroll.  I cannot say I would do it again. It does not pay good enough.  The rest of our crew will almost certainly return as they have before.


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