for the moment

The buzz of the overhead fluorescent lights melds into the soft rumble of revolving ceiling fans, the hustle and bustle of latecomers and the monotone of the announcer calling out "B-9, B-9." Cans of Moxie, beanie babies and glow-in-the-dark troll dolls crowd the long brown folding tables that fill the yellowing walls of the church cafeteria. The scents of stale cigarette smoke and Aqua Net periodically waft into the crowded room as peddlers in blue aprons circulate selling instant Lotto cards. All eyes gaze up at the main stage where numbers dance around the monstrous Bingo Board. The hypnotizing pop of the gyrating bingo balls is only broken by the clickity-clack of chips flying across the players' boards as each selected number is called out over the inaudible PA system.

Looking quite determined, the coiffed white-haired players sit poised with their neon colored "dobbers," waiting for the next number to be called in this intense arena of competition. Suddenly a shrill cry of "BINGO" eminates from the audience and a unanimous disappointed sigh permeates the air. The numbers are read back to check for cheating, as everyone waits with baited breath, hoping that this string of luck is only a farce. Five crisp 20s are quickly distributed to the proud winner, and in true Bingo tradition, the money is laid out over the remaining cards in order to bring luck during the next set of games.

This excitement is just a part of a standard Friday night at Saint Joseph's Parish, where the Bingo tradition has thrived for generations.

"I've been playing since Christ was a boy," jokes 88 year-old Marie.

Although she hasn't ever won a substantial jackpot (the jackpots can reach up to $2,300 in a given month) the spunky octogenarian continues to play because "it gives me a night out with my girlfriends." In fact, it is precisely this social lure to which many of the players are attracted. For most, this is their only night out on the town, and thus their sole opportunity to see old friends and make new acquaintances. Moreover, the attraction to gambling can't be forgotten as a catalyst for the deluge of people spilling into the cafeteria each week. Bingo offers a night of risk taking, chance and, hopefully, victory to the bubbling crowd.

The Bingo subculture, which consists of 90 percent senior citizens, is not often friendly to fledglings attempting to infiltrate the scene. Many times, newcomers are chastised for their playing faux-pas such as, according to 75 year-old Angie, "talking during the calling of numbers, poor eye-hand coordination and slow reaction rates, [which] are all pet peeves for the dedicated players." Furthermore, young whippersnappers often discover a myriad of unspoken rules and traditions that accompany the game, such as the use of Bingo Lingo, the proper places to set up one's cards and, most importantly, the appropriate time to use the illustrious word "Bingo." These nuances--kept secret from anyone who is not part of the old guard--in conjunction with the plethora of prizes offered weekly, is what makes this activity such a communal experience for its repeat players.

Although the most devout players often appear to be picky about who they accept as their playing neighbors, it is only because they are Bingo purists. It was only a few years ago that armed gunmen burst into the Parish cafeteria, taking all the money and a myriad of jewelry (albeit mostly costume) from the contestants. No matter to these die-hards, though, because the game--with its weekly gossip, gregarious interaction and small bundle of change for all--must go on.