Take me out to the ball game.Jack Norworth
When did people become so nonchalantly rude?
We’re at the ball game, and there’s a bingo promotion going on. You get cards and watch for numbers of hits and foul balls that are caught, and so on. So we’ve been slowly checking off runs, hits, and errors, but about the sixth inning, the announcer begins calling off the numbers on the cards. Now here we are balancing drinks and hot dogs, a pen and two bingo cards.
Okay. I love bingo, but I can’t keep up with the announcements, so I head up the stairs to the white board to see how many spaces are finished. (Each baseball event (?) is associated with a number, and the staff are keeping track.) I step near the board, but apparently most people can’t read white board numbers unless their noses are one inch away. Seriously? I was not aware of this, so, I wait. I’m a patient person. Then, just as the rabble begins to move aside, a woman steps exactly in front of the board. Again.
“Okay,” I said, out loud.”Has someone won the grand prize?” (That would be a diamond shape or a blackout–all the spaces filled in.)
“Yes!” said the staffer.
Crowd disperses amid groans.
So, I have been standing here, waiting and alternately craning my neck, just to get a line bingo, while everyone else assumes no one has won the big prize, although we are over two hours into the game!
I step in front of the white board and finally get a look at the numbers that have been called. Oh, the hell with it. I hand my cards to the staff people who diligently check my numbers, tear off my name and phone number at the bottom and place the strips into an overstuffed fishbowl. There will be a drawing later (for the losers, presumably).
As I turn to go back to my seat, a middle-aged man dressed in shorts and a too-tight Phillies tee shirt returns to the bingo table.
“Uh,” he says. “Is-a there going to be more than one drawing?”
Money for nothing and the chicks are free…Dire Straits