Mr. Risk and I have created a new site. My first gallery is of concession stand photos. The above photo is not a concession stand but was taken at the same time.
I have a real hate/love/hate relationship with Bingo. I mean the whole concept of the bingo hall is fairly entertaining. The stereotype of the superstitious troll rubbing, chain-smoking bingo player is real. That woman exists. I've met her many times over.
My mother was bingo obsessed for a time. I mean really truly addicted. She went to the Delta Bingo every single fucking day including birthdays and other special occassions. In fact she went more-so on special occassions like my birthday because having won once it had become her "lucky day". Sometimes she went twice a day; once for the lunch game and then later for the jackpot. Sometimes she just stayed there all day from noon until midnight. The Bingo Hall was her office. You could always count on her to be there.
She had bingo partners but these "friendships" often played themselves out like bad marriages. It would start off all happy, trusting and fun. One woman, possibly twice my mother's age, took us over the border into the shopping mecca of Rochester New York in a giant boat-sized maroon car with white leather interior. She wore an over-sized, very fake platinum blond wig, hauled on extra long cigarettes held by extra long fake nails and loved, loved, loved Hershey's chocolate. The whole cross-border trip was centred around a trip to Hills for cans of Aqua Net and to the corner store for extra long American smokes and bars of Hershey's chocolate.
But slowly little seeds of greed and deception would be sown. A rogue lunch break visit to the Vegas North next to the C.N Station followed by an unclaimed jackpot win, erupted into strings of curse words, shaking fists, long drags on an Export A and the relationship was done for good.