A SANDYCOVE MOMENT

Recently I started going to bingo nights at The Wheel here in SCA South Park – residents only allowed, although security is kinda of lackadaisical and the odd outsider probably sneaks in, especially former residents who used to attend but have now moved out of SCA, north or South Park.  

A relative newcomer to The Park (I knew her in my old life in The Town Down Under) invited me to go with her a few weeks ago for the first time.  Funny how life can take you places you never thought you’d go.

When I was a child, bingo was a very popular delivery method for giving kids their loot bags at birthday parties.  It was simple - you played until you won your bag.  As soon as you won, you stopped playing.  Ah, I can still remember those days.  I had to play to the bitter end and even then, most of the time, the party hostess had to give me my loot bag ‘cause I hardly ever bingo’ed.  What kind of karma is that?  And why, with that kind of history, would I even go to bingo as a grown up?  Am I a closet masochist?  And now I even have to pay for the pleasure of playing? 

Here in the land of the Adult Lifestyle Community, the silver hairs get off relatively lightly when it comes to buying bingo ‘cards’ (not cards anymore - with the invention of the dabber, they’re printed on paper now and discarded after each game).  I can just imagine how many trees die for the bingo cause.

The basic package, which includes a set of warm-up cards and the mutli-paged main games, costs $7.00, commonly referred to as the $7.00 special.  You can spend more if you like.  You can buy as many of the warm-up sets as you want, @ $1.00 and the main games.  Extras of the last game of

the night, which is the jackpot card, can be purchased for $1.00, as many as you want or, more precisely, can keep up with, dabbing at the speed of a very fast tortoise.  The many long, rectangular tables are a-blur of colour as the bingo caller murmurs into the microphone, “B4” and the bingo dabbers march robotically down one set of cards and then up the next.  It kinda reminds me of a well-choreographed dance.  Groans of disappointment rise, a palpable cloud as someone in the far back corner, screams “BINGO”.  Then another groan, as someone else yells, “BINGO” from the opposite side of the cavernous room. 

The ‘Confirmers’ as I think of them, trundle across the room, some with a rolling gait which reminds me of the sea, as fast as they can to the bingo players and with admirable clarity and speed, call out the winning numbers, via battery operated microphones.  You can tell that they have had a lot of practice and each have developed a certain style over the years.  One of the Confirmers kinda goofed the other night and read out a few numbers which didn’t ‘go’ and then got us laughing by exclaiming, “Oh, silly me.  Those ones weren’t the right ones.  No doubt it won’t be my last mistake of the night.”  Peter, sitting one person down from me and the owner of the large container of fresh gummy jujubes and big, brightly coloured bubble gums balls, brought to share with our table, said, “Ah, Martha must be having a Sandycove Moment!”  A smile twitches my lips as I instantly relate to Sandycove moments, having had one or two or maybe a few in the last couple of years since moving to South Park, Sandycove Acres and it feels good that I have ‘em in a place where everyone knows what having a Sandycove Moment feels like. 

How many Sandycove Moments have I had?  Hmmmm, let me count the ways…on the other hand, maybe not count, lest my Power of Attorney for my health, which includes mental, feels that there are way too many ways and decides to commit me to the nearest Looney Bin!

Martha gets back on track and the card is declared a “Good bingo” by the official Bingo Caller (who just happens to be my new(ish) next door neighbour, bringing a few sighs and a couple of groans and play resumes.

My first game is a bewildering blur, as my bingo mentors try to ed-u-mi-cate me on the finer points of bingo organization.  For, as you can see by the ‘Game Plan’, it’s not that simple.  Other than the basic four warm-up games, which you can win by dabbing 2 lines ‘anyway’, all the other games have multiple winning possibilities, so that your $7.00 special will bring you hours of playing pleasure for the price of a pack of cigarettes (maybe less these days?).  Speaking of cigarettes…back in the ‘olden’ days, smoking was not only allowed in bingo halls but accepted as a lifestyle choice.  A thick greyish cloud of smoke hovered

above the bingo players’ heads, who hacked and coughed a discordant melody accompanying the bingo caller’s sing-song cadence.  Now-a-days, smokers make a frantic run for the exit doors when break is called and return reeking of their guilty, carcinogenic pleasure.

One ‘card’ can bring many minutes of bingo ecstasy.  For instance, on the regular games, say #7, Olive (each game has its own colour) and depending on the complexity of the winning criteria, depends how long it’ll take a player to cry out a triumphant “BINGO”.  For this game, you first need to dab each of the 4 corners.  That doesn’t usually take too long.  The second game on ‘Olive’ is the 4 corners (so if you’re the 4 corners winner, you’re already ahead of the game) and now you add the inside square.  That’s 8 more numbers, bordering the FREE square in the centre.  This takes a bit longer and usually, just when I’m within the win zone on one my of cards, someone else beats me to the punch.  Big groan.

A few weeks ago, I did win with one line, the top one on Orange ($15.00 whole dollars), and haven’t been back since.  I figured I’d go out on top!  Like Seinfeld.

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