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Kelly Calton

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Kelly Calton

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#storytime Back in the early &#039;90s, my parents had a Wednesday evening ritual. My mom was a bingo enthusiast, and my dad, a connoisseur of grandma&#039;s cooking, only accompanied her for the culinary delights at the bingo hall. Intrigued by their unwavering dedication, my sister and I, both in our 20s, decided to join them one evening to see what the hype was about.<br /> <br /> Upon arrival, we discovered the bingo hall was essentially a senior citizen&#039;s paradise, with an added bonus of a feast that could rival any Thanksgiving dinner. My mom, in her element, began unpacking an arsenal of lucky trinkets, mostly trolls with wild hair, arranging them like a protective barrier around her fortress of bingo cards. Meanwhile, dad was demolishing a mountainous plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, blissfully unaware of the bingo bonanza unfolding, enabled by my Mom who marked his cards also.<br /> <br /> The game started, and my sister and I, armed with a measly two cards each, were in awe of the seasoned players around us. An elderly lady, who had enough bingo cards to wallpaper her living room, gently chided me for missing a number. I thanked her, my ADHD brain already planning an escape to a more exciting dimension.<br /> <br /> Boredom breeds mischief, and noticing my sister was one number shy of a bingo, I whispered, &quot;You&#039;ve got bingo!&quot; despite the last number being as far from hers as the moon from the sun. She shouted &quot;Bingo!&quot; with the conviction of a lottery winner, causing an uproar. As I collapsed into uncontrollable laughter, the truth unraveling, the hall transformed into a scene of chaos as the players had all cleared their cards.<br /> <br /> My dad, caught mid-bite into his red velvet cake, shot me a look that could curdle milk, while my sister sheepishly admitted her mistake. As the grumbling crowd painstakingly reset their cards, the tension was thicker than dad&#039;s gravy. I tried to stifle my laughter, but it burst out of me like a soda can shaken by a mischievous child.<br /> <br /> The bingo caller&#039;s glare could&#039;ve melted steel, but our laughter was a runaway train, each attempt to stop only fueling it further. It was like trying to hold back the tide with a spoon – utterly futile. By the end of the night, after several reprimands and uncontrollable giggling fits, we were escorted out, our laughter echoing through the hall.<br /> <br /> Mom declared it was time for a strategic retreat to the car, lest we face the wrath of the blue-haired brigade. Our parting gift was a lifetime ban for my sister and I. At least we didn’t face death as my Father wouldn’t be mourning the loss of his beloved chicken and dumplings. <br /> <br /> As we piled into the car, we couldn&#039;t help but laugh. That soda can kept shaking, and every time my Mother shot us a disgusted look in the rear view mirror we couldn’t help but laugh harder.

Kelly Calton

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