I came down with a very serious case of Bingo Fever over the course of the last few days. I fear it is incurrable.

No, no sympathy. It’s a burden I must bear, that everyone of us must at some time bear it our lives. For the great Bingo claims us all, mostly in old age.

Little spots are all I see, and a series of numbers and letters without meaning or order float through my head when I should be doing productive things like working or saving the planet or eating ice cream.

No, I am too far gone. Think well of me, oh ye of Denver, as I progress into the final stages of this crippling, daubing condition: Acute Bingoitis.

Yes, over the past two days, I have not once, not twice, but thrice been to Bingo games. B3 for the win.

Over at Barry’s Bingo on Sunday, I began to show symptoms of the catastrophic, life changing condition.

With Bingo games at noon, 3:30, 7:00, and 10:00, my head was aflutter with the bright, dancing lights, the smooth tear of a Bingo sheet from it’s brothers, and the endless allure of the Progressive Game, which offered thousands of dollars in reward.

As I handed in my 25-cent tear-away lottery-like tickets at the end, it was (for real) a volunteering Priest who handed me new tickets in exchange. It was like a last rite for the Bingo stricken.

In all seriousness, Bingo at Barry’s was a hoot. For $6, you get a Bingo card pack, which gives you 6 cards per games (I think there are 9 games total? I’m Bingo delirious!) The games changed each time, and it was great to try to win in all different ways (Crazy Kite, Double Postage Stamp, Diamonds- Ask your grandparents.) Each game offered anywhere from $100-$500 payout on that particular night. It was mesmerizing, feeling the hush of silence come over the crowd, watching the people intently set up their daubers and tape their multiple cards together for easy access, and see the Bingo balls dance in the big center roller.

Progressive cards were $1 each, and that was the big cash cow: You get a standard Bingo card, and have to block out the numbers in 55 calls or less.

Now here’s the lure that brought me and my fellow Bingo-ites back the next day: The prize for the Progressive game moved up to $13,000 on Monday.

On Monday at 7PM, the hall was packed with families and other folks, eating nachos and picking their daubers out of the vending machine (I am now the proud owner of 2 Dabbin’ Fever brand daubers. Hot dog!)

We dreamed of what we would do with such a prize, each of us envisioning a better life through Bingo.

Even though we didn’t win (some lucky lady did- congrats!) we are now hooked.

And, with the games lasting a convienient hour and a half or so, we were able to scoot over to Sputnik on Monday for Blingo, just to add fuel to the fire and get a drink in our belly.

All in all, a good Bingo day.

But one question: As my intrepid team and I plan to return regularly to Barry’s for all the sweet, sweet action from here on out, what should our Bingo team name be?

The Daubinatrixes? Marky Mark and the Bingo Bunch? Or honoring a jerky old crank by being the Lou Daubbers?