Best Friend asked me to go to Concert Ticket Bingo night and, as usual, she was just leaving her house when I arrived at the bar. I'm used to arriving early, so I wasn't bothered, until I looked around and realized I was the only girl in the establishment.
A roomful of dudes is a strange thing. It was especially strange, and comical, by the fact that they didn't seem to notice I was there. They carried on with their dude-ful conversations with such comfort that I felt the need to take notes and share them with Best Friend, who was not yet there to bear witness:
Bingo Guy's bike got stolen. He's taking matters into his own hands because Denver Police are worthless.
Bartender just yelled, "Rim Job!" Not sure why.
Oh, apparently it's the Rim Job Guys who can help Bingo Guy get his bike back from the chop shop.
Two, TWO glorious heads of hair just walked in. One is shiny and smooth, Anthony Kiedis-style. The other has dreads down to his waist.
Bingo Guy's lady complains about mustache rides. It is unclear if she is complaining about the rides themselves? Or perhaps the frequency at which they are offered?
Finally Best Friend arrived.
Then, as if by divine order, Bingo Jesus walked in. Silhouetted by the autumn light, he looked just like Jesus Christ — if Jesus Christ was a tattooed 30 year old in skinny jeans and a black tank top. A hush came over the room as Bingo Jesus took his seat.
Clearly we were in the presence of greatness, but all similarities to our benevolent Lord and Savior ended there. He heckled winners and sent his henchman, Tiny Man Bun, to the bar to intimidate other players. Several times I heard him imitate Bingo Guy, yelling, "Clear your boards!" even when we were playing a blackout round.
Bingo Jesus was not messing around, he came to win.
I'm not sure if the other dudes won concert tickets. In the race against Bingo Jesus, I lost track of Bartender, Anthony Kiedis and Dreadlocks. Bingo Jesus walked in expecting to part the sea of people and simply take whatever concert tickets he wanted.
But this was not our first rodeo, and we were not intimidated. Though I tip my hat to Bingo Jesus, it's Best Friend and I who are the ones headed to the rock show.
Read more Liz Marsh: coloradodaily.com/columnists.