It's been too long, way too long, since Steph and I played bingo. She loved bingo. It's kooky how much she loved bingo.
When the idea of bingo occurred to her, she squealed like a puppy about to go on a walk. She usually slept through our long drive there and back, but she lit up like a sparkler when we got there.
For a few years, we played at Ho-Chunk Casino in the Dells, almost never won, but she loved it. We always reeked of tobacco afterwards, though, because Ho-Chunk's "no smoking" section is only a few feet from everyone inhaling cigarettes, with no wall between them and us.
Eventually Steph suggested driving a few miles further and in a different direction, to the Potawatomi Casino in Milwaukee. The web had promised her that Potawatomi had a big plexiglass wall between the smokers and non-smokers, so to Milwaukee we went, always. We still lost almost always, but we smelled better.
The concession stand was in the smoking section, so Steph always sent me to get her a hot dog or whatever, and I didn't mind. I'd do it again, any time.
I never quite understood Steph's love of bingo, but I loved seeing how much she loved it. She almost never won, but it didn't matter. It was playing that she came for, not winning, and playing bingo made Steph so dang happy.
That's the only reason I played, and I haven't played without her since she left. Never will. I don't miss playing bingo. I miss playing bingo with Stephanie.