And Bingo Was His Name-o

In a spectacular display of bad judgment, the PTA appointed my friend H. and me as co-chairs of the elementary school's bingo night. I'm not quite sure why we volunteered in the first place, although I dimly recall a fair amount of alcohol being involved.

It's a bit surprising the PTA took us up on our offer. Bingo night's a big deal, a major fundraiser usually attended by a hundred or more parents and kids, and it's not as though H. and I are unknown quantities.

In fact, we first participated two years ago, calling a few games.

"B-4," I'd yell. "B-4. The number before B-5. Does anyone need a 'B-4?'"

"Yes," a few contestants would shriek in response while others tried to figure out what I was talking about.

"Sorry. It's o-62," I'd say, drawing glares from the parents who now had to explain to their children they hadn't actually won after all.

Last year we called the full night's worth of games. The worst fears of our families were confirmed when we showed up in pirate costumes, complete with eye patches and parrots.

"I-29. That's an I-two-niner."

"Are you going to say 'niner' all night?" asked a father.

"Of course," I said. "It gets funnier every time."

The father sighed.

H. jumped up and pointed at him. "Ye scurvy dog, you'll walk the plank before this voyage ends."

Our own children slumped lower, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the crowd.

At one point I announced, "It's time for a special contest. Let's see, I need some ninth-graders."

Coincidentally, there were only three ninth-graders in attendance, my friend E.'s son and two of his buddies. Their eyes widened in dismay as H. led them up on stage.

"We're going to dance a jig, mateys," I said. "Captain Scalawag, call a tune."

H. started singing in pirate gibberish and spinning the teenagers around in circles. When the song was over the crowd gave them a round of applause.

"This is the worst night I've ever had," one of them muttered.

"Wait until you're my age," I muttered back.

Which brings us to the present. What will Bingo Night 2008 hold?

An all-male cadre of volunteers. H. and believe it's important for children to see men involved in these sorts of things. We recruited sixteen of our friends and neighbors with the chance to embarrass their children during the game and the promise of beer afterward.

A soundtrack. "Luck Be A Lady Tonight," indeed.

Costumes, and badly done fake accents.

And a cornucopia of other surprises for the assembled throng.

When she first heard that H. and I were in charge this year, the school receptionist said, "It's so nice that fathers are getting involved in this sort of thing."

"Were you there last year?" I asked.

"No."

"Then you might want to withhold judgment," I said.

I've always told my children that a reputation is the most important thing in the world. Next week I hope to prove it.