Some nights, I just feel like a grumpy old man. I don’t want to talk to you, and I certainly don’t want to stay home and watch that damned Ryan Seacrest. Kids today. Hmph. So, I went to Pete’s Candy Store for some good old-fashioned Bingo. What did I find? Kids! Uncool kids! They looked like a bunch of marijuana cigarette smoking hooligans if you ask me. Luckily, they were for the most part easy on these old eyes, and the sexual deviants in the crowd seemed to be intimidated by my maturity (judging by the fact that they did not immediately approach yours truly) so I was not at first forced to interact with the locals. But, by jove, then I won a game! You should have seen the jig I danced! Pete’s practices a particularly eclectic brand of bingo involving a combination of “standard” wins (one row across, any direction) with the more intricate “flying backwards L,” “six-pack,” and “holy crap that’s fast first to get to five” variations of bingo. My skills of observation were unthwarted by the multiple hot toddies I consumed, allowing me to crow “bingo!” well before the other drunken rabble present. Typical of the prizes they pass out, I won a set of finger paints which I gave to my truant niece, and a toy motorcycle which launches from a “helmet emitter” which I tried to give to a bum (but found later that my truant niece had wrestled it from the bum and kept it). Upon winning, I suddenly found myself far more popular. A strange woman claimed she lived with me. Following the prudent course, I ran for the door, but suddenly found myself in some sort of hippy back room where a singer-type was warbling at a melange of booze hounds. Clearly, I had gone the wrong direction in my haste. Dodging through the crowd as best I could I scurried back the way I’d come. Strange women in sloppy dress and boots that were fashionable in a time when I was considerably more virile consistently tried to direct me into their booths and “help” me. Harlots! Upon making it to the door, I saw McCarren Park to my left and made a run for it. Eventually, I took refuge somewhere in Greenpoint under the porch of an older Polish couple where I spent the night. Obviously, I will be back for bingo again next week.