GO AWAY Bill Windsor
This was written on December 28, 2023 about an event in my life in November 2016.
THERE’S A BIG BANNER AT THE RV PARK ANNOUNCING TONIGHT IS BINGO NIGHT.
I forced myself to get out and drive to the office as I received an email saying I had a package.
I anticipated a few million pennies from Taylor Swift. But there it was — a big banner announcing BINGO NIGHT.
I don’t play BINGO.
When I first moved to Florida as a member of AARP, I bought a really nice triple-wide manufactured home. I closed and needed to rent a truck in Texas so I could move my Divorce Leftovers to my new place. I couldn’t get Internet service for a week, and I needed to shop for the best deal. I was told I could use the Internet connection at the Clubhouse, so I drove over.
Picture a really big room filled with tables and chairs and not a soul in sight. I figured it had to hold 500 people. I found a table toward the rear that had an electrical outlet within the length of a 25-foot extension cord. I got wired up and began emailing Penske, Ryder, and U-Haul.
From out of nowhere, an old woman appeared. She said: “I wouldn’t sit here if I were you….”
I asked why, and the UNwelcome Welcome Wagon-like Lady told me it was probably someone’s lucky seat. I glanced around the room, and nary a person did I see. But I didn’t want to cause any trouble, so I asked her if there was ANY one of the 500+ seats that might not be someone’s lucky seat. She motioned to an area with an overhang just outside the restrooms.
So, I packed up and moved to a spot next to the Ladies’ Room.
I got on the phone with Penske to make arrangements.
The next thing I knew, a decidedly rude-looking old codger appeared above my laptop screen. He said: “Sir, you’re going to have to leave. You are disturbing the bingoers.” I looked around and realized there had been something like the start of the 24 Hours at Le Mans. There were golf carts everywhere and the largest assemblage of old people I had ever seen.
I told Fred that I was not speaking loudly, that I am a new resident, that I was here first, that the manager sent me, that I was not using anyone’s lucky seat, and that I would be only a few minutes. Fred said: “Sir, you’re going to have to leave.” I peered on each side of Fred and saw 1,000 old eyeballs staring angrily at me.
When I got everything loaded up, there was a 500-person standing ovation. I pledged to never play BINGO with a bunch of old farts. And I never have.
It is kind of a Red Badge of Courage. Retired senior citizen evicted form BINGO on his first night as a senior.