QUEEN OF THE BINGO PARLOR

 

We were driving down 1960 East, towards Humble, as we do sometimes to go visit friends or meet them for dinner.  I always look to see if the old bingo place is still there, and it is and probably will always be.  I’m not an avid bingo player, but at one time, a friend of ours talked us into playing a few times.  The Royster went with us once.  We bought our daubers and cards and took our places at the table with our friend.

It’s huge!  And, they are very serious bingo players.  As you walk in, and to the left is where you buy your bingo cards and daubers.  As we stood in line, I observed several very serious bingo players in line ahead of us.  They were buying several cards to play at one time.  Some had their big tote bags of bingo equipment.  This means their daubers, their snacks and whatever else they would need to endure a grueling day at the bingo parlor.  These are the serious ones.  They were from all walks of life…men and women, young and old.  I did happen to see some stereotypical bingo players; the kind one imagines when the term bingo parlor is uttered.  There truly were a couple of those, and I would hesitate to stand in their way or cross them in any way.  You’d want to wait until they find their seat before sitting down.  No, you wouldn’t want to take their usual seat, and probably not even close enough to get smacked with a dauber in a frenzy of bingo card daubing.

I will attempt to describe one lady that I encountered.  She was of large stature, wearing a red, green and yellow floral Mu’u Mu’u with red flip-flops to match.  She wore red horn-rimmed glasses.   Her fresh make-up was well done.  Eye shadow was a beautiful bright blue, with lipstick to match her red horn-rims.  She had just had her roots done, and her bleached blond tresses were in a Texas size mass of individual curls, in a doo on top of her head.  She had just had her nails painted bright red, with a pedicure to match.  Her tote bag matched her dress exactly, and I’d bet dollars to donuts that she had at least six other Mu’u Mu’us at home with totes to match; along with matching flip-flops.   She wore big red hoop earrings, and a set of red, yellow and green bangle bracelets to set everything else off.

I stepped back and waited for her to take her seat.  I noticed that no one took a seat directly across from her or on either side.  She gingerly took her seat, and carefully sat her tote in the chair to her right.  I was surprised when an adorable miniature poodle popped its head out of the tote.  She arranged 20 bingo cards just so on the table in front of her and fished in the bag until she came up with two daubers, one pink and one blue.  She took out a gold lame cigarette case and fished out a long cigarette and lit it. She put the cigarette case in place, just so, on her right next to the ash tray.  The little poodle hopped out of her tote and sat expectantly in her lap.  She was ready.  She had to be the Bingo Queen of North East Houston.   I was in awe and could not take my eyes off of her.

The Bingo Caller announced 5 minutes until game time.   Bingo Queen took an icy cold Pibb out of her tote, opened it and took three dainty gulps while she watched the clock.  We sat just a table away and in front of her.  My friend, Veronica nudged me, and told me that I’d better get my three cards and dauber ready.  I complied by putting the cards side by side and getting my blue dauber situated just so on my right.

 

The big clock above the stage read exactly 7 o’clock, and the Bingo Caller called out, “Let’s play BINGO!”  The first ball rolled out.   “I-16!” she called.  There was loud smattering of daubers hitting bingo cards.  By that time I’d found one I-16, I was ecstatic, and started looking for another.  Everyone else was finished daubing.  There were no more on any of my three cards.  The next ball rolled out, and the Caller hollered, “G-47!”   Thwap! Smack! Pow!   Daubers were flying!  I looked, and didn’t have one.  This went on until I saw that I actually just needed one more number to Bingo!  There was hope.  The ball rolled down and …”N-42!”   I did a double take.  I actually had it!  I smacked my blue dauber on my G-47 and before I could raise my hand and yell out “Bingo”, I heard it from  Bingo Queen.  It was a loud, but casual, raspy cigarette voice … “BINGO”  Her little poodle seemed to know, and yapped an acknowledgement.  So went the first round. 

I bought three more cards and returned to my seat next to Veronica, who had already gotten her fresh bingo cards in order.  I needed to be faster.  Bingo Queen was all set and munching on a king size Snicker’s Bar.  She saw me and nodded with a wry smile.  I must have been staring.  So went my night at the Bingo Parlor; almost winning with each game, but not quite.  Bingo Queen won three times.  How could that happen?

 

I will have to say that I had never encountered quite an event before in my life.  It was really a lot of fun.  My friend, Veronica asked me if I’d go with her again.  Of course I would.  She goes three nights a week, but I only committed to two more times.   I dare say that the next two Bingo nights were almost exactly like the first one … almost winning, but not quite … or I wasn’t fast enough.  Veronica won twice, and one of them was the grand prize of the night.  


We went out to celebrate at Sonic.  As we sat there eating cheeseburgers that dripped down our arms, we talked.  She wanted to know if I’d go again the next week.  I sighed and told her that, alas, Bingo just isn’t in my blood.  I did save my daubers for a few years, just in case I wanted to go back.  Later, I tossed them, fairly new, into a donation bag.

Yup!  I’d play again, but I just couldn’t be a regular … not with competition like The Bingo Queen of North East Houston.