A Report On The NSRBA

Those of you not in the Bingo circuit may not know of the importance of Bingo revenues and the migraines of Bingo administration amongst small to mid-sized non-profit organizations. Suffice to say:
we often depend on Bingos;
Bingos give us headaches.

It was my pleasure to serve the needs of one such organization last night at one of Edmonton's oldest and yet most secret Bingo Halls:
The North Saskatchewan River Bingo Association.

My colleagues and I gathered on the banks of the river directly underneath the High Level Bridge as the Sun was rising somewhen about 1 AM. For those of you of a more southerly disposition let me assure you that it is quite common for the sun to rise at 1 AM in these Northern climes. For those of you not familiar with Edmonton architecture, the High Level Bridge has some historical significance to our city - nothing significant to this report though. The High Level Bridge is best described as high and level. Also, it is black. A souvenir type Electric Train runs across it in the summer months. It also has a waterfall. It may sound like I'm describing some hobbyist's basement model train project, but I assure you that the High Level Bridge does exist and it is just as I described it. And around about where the water falls
into the North Saskatchewan River
from the high and level bridge
there is a port-a-potty.

About 8 metres east of the bridge and about 15 metres south of the north shore there is a port-a-potty in the midst of the river. Well not in the midst... it rests above the water level. And this port-a-potty is the only entrance into the North Saskatchewan River Bingo Hall. I would have appreciated being told this prior to my arrival. But I am not
(as you know)
not a grumbler am I.
This is the lot that has been chosen for me by the Great Caller in the sky so into the river I go... but first I'm going to see how Leah and Garret make out. They've found some rocks and abandoned concrete to jump out
into
the river on.
They've got nice shoes those two and they don't want to wetten them. Unfortunately the last concrete pillar is just out of leaping range from the entrance to the bingo hall and the last word on their attempt is
"splash". My comrades are soaked, then so
must I be soaked as well. I can almost see the waters
quelching between my toes and
pouring down my underpants
as I run into the river to join my Bingo friends. Floating outside the port-a-potty that sits calmly above the water I was struck by two observations.

Firstly, once you are in it, the river
(which is often referred to colloquially locally as
the North Saskatchewan Sewer)
is actually much cleaner than it appears from above. There's a slight cloudiness to it from either algae or fish eggs but otherwise it is very clear. I didn't dare myself to drink the water but I felt quite refreshed after submersing myself. I would also like to add that the river seems much wider once you're in it, and that I was surprised at how non-existent the current was.

Secondly,
... that port-a-potty.
"Don't you think that it's kind of odd that this bingo hall would have an outhouse for an entrance?"remarked Sophie
who had appeared floatingly while I was under the water. I had to agree. It was odd. But, you know me. I'm not one to question
the way things are.
They are the way they are for a reason.
However, what I was struck by was the indifferent face of the port-a-potty. It reminded me
of the monolith from "2001: A Space Odyssey",
or the phone booth from "Doctor Who".
Except this wasn't a movie or a tv show... this was real life.

Well, others had joined us by now and had climbed out of the water, up to the port-a-potty, and had disappeared behind its door. Ever the gentlemen, I allowed all others to precede me. As I was opening the door I realized the disgusting situation that I was in. A port-a-potty has but one function. (Well, two functions if you want to be nitpicky.) A port-a-potty is not a portal between worlds; it is not called a "portal potty"; it is called a port-a-potty: a transPORTable convenience. So when one tries to combine the function of a human waste disposal unit with the needs of a portal between two worlds... well... it's not pleasant. I will spare you the details except to say,
it wasn't as bad as you would have expected.
I was actually quite impressed with the engineering of it all and very much appreciated every attempt to make the experience as comfortable, clean, and fun as possible. However, in the end, I still wish that I had been told about this earlier so that I could have dressed more appropriately.
Those were my best pair of pants
and I'll never wear them again. So, after I got off the slide that takes you from river level to the submarine level, I took a look around.

This was by far the most low down, criminal, seedy, keep-your-back-against-the-wall-or-you'll-get-a-knife-in-it, don't-make-eye-contact-with-the-patrons-or-you'll-get-a-knife-in-it, end-of-the-line Bingo hall I've ever been in and I (as you know) have been in quite a few in my time. This place smelled of murder
(and urine). The whole place was quite pissy actually. It's yellow cast made it seem like the fluorescent light tubes had been filled
with pee. And you know that gentle thud that bingo daubers make in every other bingo hall in the world?... when the next number rolls into the screen and a chorus of sponge cushions touch the table tops... sometimes accented by a ukrainian women's voice urging
"n42, n42, n42".
That sound is not heard at the North Saskatchewan River Bingo Association. No. Oh no. Firstly, the bingo daubers are filled with draft beer and when they make contact with the bingo sheet they kind of...
fart. I'm serious. And they're stinky farts.
And there are no babushkas to be seen in this windowless submarine bingo world... they are all sailors and they swear like sailors because that is what they are... bingo addicted seamen. And they swear in every language but none so prolificly and harshly as the table of Greek sailors. They don't curse under their breath, they cram their profanity in your ear like straight razors into dry pumpernickle. Furthermore, its the smallest bingo hall I've ever seen. Smaller than I've ever imagined.
Which makes the payouts
and payoffs
ridiculously
small. Furthermore, the players will haggle over the price of the bingo cards which means you spend
more time negotiating and
less time selling.The Russians are inclined to just take the cards from the ushers and not pay for them. (They keep their money in front of them on cutting boards and you are expected to try and take the money while they try to fend your fingers off with steak knives. The upside to this modified five finger monty is that you are never bored and if you're fast enough and they're drunk enough you can make some pretty good coin. The question is:
is your pinky finger worth twenty rubles to your theatre company?)

So to conclude and summarize. The North Saskatchewan River Bingo Association and its hall: filthy, not lucractive, dangerous, smelly, inconvenient.
As a fundraising activity: not recommended at all.
Keep your club at Caesar's Bingo or Flamingo Bingo or Ringo Bingo or collect cans and bottles from the ditch and
count your blessings along with your nickles... and your knuckles.

However,
for the adventurous minded soul who wants to experience
the underground secrets of our River City,
this is a destination that must be on your
not to be missed list.
I survived with only a few knicks on my thumb and a loss of some fine trousers that I will miss dearly, and if I can live through that, then so can you.

Reporting from the Bingo Satellite,
Spirot.