In a cavernous wood-paneled room in Boston, groups of impeccably dressed bingo players are sipping martinis, slurping oysters, and eating caviar-topped slices of pizza. Between bites and calls of “B4!”, they’re also using blazing pink, purple, and orange daubers to stamp their bingo cards. The event—a pop-up hosted by supper club East Boston Oysters, or EBO—regularly sells out within hours.
It’s a far cry from the crowd you might picture at a bingo night: elderly women gathered at tables, carefully monitoring rows of numbers under fluorescent lights. Now, bingo is no longer a retiree’s game, nor is it reserved for VFW posts or church basements. Instead, trendy bars and restaurants in cities across the country are hosting bingo nights as weekly events—often for large crowds. There’s drag bingo on Monday nights at the Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village, charity bingo at the Welcome Back Lounge in Chicago, and “legendary bingo” at Hamburger Mary’s in Los Angeles. Then there are spinoffs like Bingo Loco, a traveling live show where bingo meets a confetti-filled rave.
I started playing bingo two winters ago when I needed something to do on cold, dark weeknights. I wanted to be social without necessarily having to drink, and I didn’t want to travel very far. So, I ventured to Monday night bingo at my local American Legion hall and found a very wholesome community of players. (The regulars were delighted to show me the ropes, naturally.) Soon after, I noticed my favorite wine bar posting on Instagram about hosting a weekly bingo night. Then, a few breweries in town did the same. It was only a matter of time before I scored tickets to EBO’s bingo pop-up, too. All of a sudden, traditional bingo and a fresher, hipper version of bingo had become my newest hobbies.
For Alexis Cervasio, founder of EBO, starting bingo in early 2024 seemed like the perfect throwback theme. She wanted to recall her family’s vacations to the Jersey Shore, where they always made time for bingo night. “There are cigarettes, there are ashtrays on the tables, you’re drinking mudslides out of plastic cups, that kind of vibe,” Cervasio says. “It’s always so nostalgic, and I think people really appreciate the nostalgia of bingo.”
At EBO’s bingo events, lowbrow charm mixes with a highbrow menu. You’re handed a cocktail immediately upon walking in, you’re encouraged to throw back unlimited oysters, and it’s extremely likely you’ll do a bump of caviar. Plus, both recurring and new guests take the opportunity to dress for the occasion. “Everybody shows the fuck up,” Cervasio says.
Paris Geraniotis, a regular attendee, designs a new outfit for each event. One especially memorable getup involved a skirt and crop top made out of bingo cards. (On occasion, I’ve also been known to don a bingo-themed sequined vest.)
Geraniotis says bingo felt like the perfect opportunity to lean into the theme. “I’d played bingo a handful of times in high school—at my local Elks Club—so there was a nostalgic charm to revisiting it, just in a much cooler setting this time,” she says.
Then there’s the type of bingo that your local watering hole has started hosting weekly. In my opinion, part of its beauty is that it’s often quite laid-back—and it doesn’t feel weird to show up alone.
Bingo is becoming the new trivia night, argues Rev. Rusty Reams, the personality behind the Great Bingo Revival and an ordained minister with the Universal Life Church. In the early 2010s, you’d head to a bar to play a few rounds, he reasons, but now, midweek hangouts are getting the retro treatment.
In 2012, Reams introduced an old-school bingo event with a new-school twist to create a “rhythm and funk soul explosion.” Based in Lake Tahoe, Calif., the Great Bingo Revival mixes dancing, music, comedy, prizes, and improv into the game. It’s hosted by the colorfully costumed Reams and a group of go-go dancers that “serve as a mix of Vanna White from Wheel of Fortune and the LA Lakers girls,” Reams says.
Whether it’s a stylish, highly produced event or a casual weeknight meetup, bingo is more than just a game: It’s the answer to younger generations’ call for third spaces. Where Boomers once found community within their churches and membership organizations like the Elks and Lions Club, Millennials and Gen Zers like myself are seeking low-stakes environments to connect. In this case, it’s over a fun, simple game with a low buy-in.
“People are looking for that human connection. On Saturday night on the dance floor, you’re wanting to go out and meet people, but you can’t talk over the music and the drinks are expensive,” Reams explains. “Here, people gather together. Maybe you show up one week and you see the same people the next week. You sit next to them, you get to know them. It creates a kind of community that comes together weekly.”
He sensibly points out that you can’t play bingo and be on your phone at the same time. In fact, bingo requires your close attention. And if you miss something, you can always ask a stranger at your table what number was just called. “There are these moments where people are recognizing that there’s magic in the air, and they’re engaging with the kind of magic that is organic human connection,” Reams says. “That engagement and interaction is something people are valuing now more than ever.”