you can’t win if you don’t play

I’m not a lucky kind of person.

When I was younger, I used to go to Foxwoods to play BINGO quite often.

I loved the whole experience of it – waiting in line to get my cards, then going over to the two-dollar dobber store and picking out which color I wanted (usually pink or green), and then finding a place to sit in the massive room that had a haze of cigarette smoke hanging above everyone’s head.

My friend(s) and I would set up somewhere and then look around and make fun of all the people who brought entire setups of lucky treasures. There were stuffed animals, bobbleheads, Trolls (where the hell did they get all the trolls?!), votive candles with all manner of saints and celebrities, and once, I saw a crucified Jesus.

The whole day was a joy, and it usually was a whole day, starting at 10am and ending at 3pm – it took up a good chunk.

We would usually sit as close to the front of the room as possible, for one reason, which is the thing we called “The Magic Money Machine”.

There was a particular BINGO game that, if you won it, allowed you the opportunity to get into a plastic tube, put on some protective eyewear, and stand there to attempt catching as much cash as possible once they turn on the fan and that tube becomes a contained tornado.

After years of watching, I determined that the people who left the tube with the most money were not the ones who were grabbing bills out of the air, but the people who were pulling them off of their bodies.

For years I went to BINGO.

I won once.

Three hundred dollars on a regular BINGO just after the start of the morning, and I didn’t even notice it, it was my friend Ben who was sitting next to me that started poking his finger at my card and screaming “You got a BINGO!” so loudly that I felt like everyone in the room was staring at us when the caller looked over at me to ask if my BINGO was good.

I thanked my lucky stars that there were attendants who would come around the room to dole out winnings so I wouldn’t have to go up on stage in front of a crowd of hundreds to collect them.

That’s the only time I’ve ever won anything in my life.

I have been a raffle and lottery loser for life.

I’m just not that lucky.

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Do you know what “they” tell people who have won a significant amount of money in the lottery?

Don’t tell anyone about it.

Get a lawyer.

Make a plan.

Keep the secret until you know how you’re going to handle it.

You probably shouldn’t even tell your spouse.

But I don’t need to worry about this, because I don’t expect anything fantastic to happen that would make my life newsworthy.

Plus, you can’t win if you don’t play, and I don’t play.

I also don’t answer my cell phone unless I know who’s calling, so I’ve often checked my voicemail only to hear the long, low, BLOOOOOOOT of a cruise ship’s horn followed by a chipper voice gushing to me:

“You’ve won a free cruise! Call now to claim your win!”

Yeah, no.

I would never, ever want to go on a cruise.

I’m not expecting any news at all, either amazing or fantastic.

My life has settled into a rhythm and routine that doesn’t leave much room for surprise or spontaneity.

There’s a part of me that’s glad for that – the part that is old and tired and wants nothing more than to be able to come home after work and take off my bra.

I’m not even kidding.

I find it incredibly irritating when I have errands or appointments scheduled after work because I’m such a homebody and boring as watching paint dry.

What I’m trying to say is, I have no idea the first thing I would do if I got great, amazingly fantastic news.

I have no precedent to look back on, and I have no news to wait on and see how it shakes out.

Pessimistic?

Probably.

But also, probably realistic.

If I get some great, amazingly fantastic news, the first thing I would do is question whether it’s real and how I got so lucky.

Still, though, it’s fun imagining what that news could possibly be for me, and how it might change my life.