Kiana Blacker
Guest Writer
The room was nearly silent, only filled with small chatter and impatient taps of people’s feet. Everyone was focusing on one thing only: what the following number would be.
“B3,” announces Chance Reynolds.
Yes! Maybe I’ll win something this time, I thought naively with only two numbers left on my bingo board until I achieved a blackout. The prize was the best one yet, a 43-inch Fire TV. The anticipation in the room was overwhelming, with people eager for a chance to win.
“G70,” Reynolds says next.
Now I was only one number away, along with my roommate Josie. We were both preparing to stand, with a new layer of hope filling our thoughts. And then I heard it. A guy in the back of the room with a green shirt shouting the ridiculous word, bingo. All my hope and everyone else’s had diminished with that tragic word.
Tables were being pounded on, and the chatter level rose with anger and defeat. There was still a chance the guy misheard a number, meaning there’d be no bingo or prize. If only that were the case. But Reynolds confirmed the win by shouting, “And that’s a bingo!”
Bingo is a free monthly event hosted by the Student Activities Board in the Student Union Building’s Ballroom for Idaho State University students. It is also open to staff and faculty members for $3 and the public for $5. The event normally takes place on Thursdays from 7-9 p.m. This time, it fell on Thursday before spring break, resulting in little attendance and better chances of winning a prize.
Tara Winner, a writer for The Strong National Museum of Play, explains that bingo dates back to the 1530s, deriving from a game in Italy called “Lo Giuoco del Lotto de Italia.” The U.S. version we play today comes from Edwin S. Lowe and his discovery of the game at a carnival in Georgia. There, people played the game with beans and hand-stamped boards. The word “beano” was shouted when a player created the correct pattern.
On the first bingo nights of the semester, students filled the 16 tables in the room, strangers sitting inches away from each other. Chaos consumed the room. Chatter, laughter, music, and the pounding of tables could all be heard. But tonight, the room was eerily quiet walking in, prompting students to conspire in hushed conversations. In the background, a song from the 80s was playing, lightening the library-like mood.
Despite getting there 15 minutes before the door opened, my friends and I sat in the front. Josie and I sit across from my brother Kelton and his best friend Jacob. In the front, the bingo ball spinner and wooden frame that holds the bingo balls sit on a long table, along with the five prizes. Black tablecloths droop from the tables, trying but failing to appear fancier.
A fuzzy projector screen displays a bingo tracking board at the front, with the first pattern being the letter O. As we wait, we sit on our phones, watching the ongoing March Madness game between Arkansas and Kansas. Arkansas, the lower seed, is currently winning.
Reynolds slowly walks over to the microphone, silencing the crowd to announce three important rules: “No running, stand up when you have one square left until bingo and you must call out your own bingo.”
A bingo board is a five-by-five board with the word bingo spelled across the top, each letter corresponding to a column. The game consists of 75 numbers, split by 15 within each letter. When a number is called, you mark it on your board, in hopes of completing the pattern. Wherever and whenever bingo is played, it is ruthlessly, relentlessly simple.
The night officially begins as Reynolds starts announcing bingo numbers. Jacob, my brother’s best friend, starts the night out on a depressing note, saying, “I’m not going to win anything in bingo.” Keep in mind he’s won two times before this, and I’ve won so much as never. He continues, “I’m not good at this game anymore,” after not marking his board three times in a row. Kelton and I look at each other, rolling our eyes.
Swiftly, my eyes are drawn to the right of the stage, where a girl sits with a young puppy wagging its tail with excitement. It looks like it’s wearing a shaggy brown mop that droops over its eyes, hindering its view. It might be the cutest mop I’ve ever seen, as it rolls around on the rugged carpet.
Suddenly, a guy with a black hoodie, his black hair slicked into a bun, shouts, “Why is it in the corner? If we were playing four corners, I’d be winning right now.” I laugh, thankful for the change of liveliness in the room. The only thing that is keeping us entertained now is the basketball game, with only 12 seconds left. I sit in anticipation, forgetting I’m supposed to be playing bingo as Arkansas pulls an upset, 79-72.
Seconds later, a bingo is called, and people clap and pound on tables with congratulations. The next round goes by in a blur, as someone two tables down wins the magic bullet blender. None of us were close to completing the pattern, and our hopes of winning ran out the door.
Before starting the next round, Reynolds asks the crowd to participate in a game of throwing orange Styrofoam footballs into a large, blue storage bin. Kelton, Jacob, Josie, and I all look at each other, inquiring if one of us should volunteer. We all say no way, and Kelton says, “Why not? It’s just petting a football.” I glance over at Josie in confusion and amusement. “Wait, no, it’s ‘cause I saw the dog run by.” We all bust up laughing, and luckily, everyone is distracted by the ongoing game to notice.
The next rounds of bingo speed by quickly, as we hash about Dachshund puppies during the rounds. While playing for the projector, a guy with shaggy blonde hair, dressed in Western fashion, promptly stood up and shouted, “I hate bingo,” after realizing someone had called bingo when he was one space away.
A scavenger hunt provides another interlude for us bingo players who feel defeated. The room’s gloominess vanishes quickly when people raise their hands, wishing to participate. Four guys are selected to find a belt, a Costco Card, anything green and a shoe. As soon as the game starts, it’s over, shocking the crowd as one of the guys gathers the items in the blink of an eye.
Reynolds announces Y as the following pattern, and someone in the back of the room jokingly shouts, “Why?” The air fryer is up for grabs when the first call, B10, is announced. It took four more calls until I finally had a spot on my board. This game isn’t fun when you aren’t winning.
“I don’t want the air fryer, I want the TV,” says Kelton, amidst my unhappiness.
“Well, you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit,” Jacob responds sarcastically.
In this game, we all might need to take that expression more seriously because none of us were winning anything tonight. Bingo is a game of luck, not made for those persistent in winning, because they will undoubtedly lose at one point or another.
