Last night was Bunco night in my neighborhood. This is a monthly occurrence amongst the wonderful ladies in my hood, and was my second time at the dice table(s). Pardon the pun, but I’ve been on a little roll. Yes, I somehow managed to come in first in my Bunco debut and last night, I was part of a nerve-wracking play-off for first place, and finished at 2nd…still a profit and I can’t be too greedy. Besides, this night includes cheap entertainment, excellent food, an excuse for a few drinks, and great company. Yes, I may have abandoned my husband and gotten out of my teenagers’ way another night, but no one complains when I bring some extra spending cash into the house. It’s a win/win situation.
Beginner’s luck? Absolutely! Especially considering that I still can’t determine a strategy for this game other than to roll as fast and as many times as you can before the bell rings.
So what exactly is Bunco? Well, after two parties under my belt, I can now offer this and only this. We start by bringing a dish, our drink of choice and $5 for the pot. We have lots of tables where we split into groups of four with the person across from us being our partner for the round. Round 1 means we take turns rolling and the more 1′s we roll, the more points we make. Three 1′s = Bunco which is big points. When someone calls Bunco or gets 21, the round ends. If our team wins with the most points, we advance to the next table. If not, we remain at the loser table. Partners then change up and we commence to Round 2 where we’re shooting for 2′s. We go through 6 rounds then start it all over again for as many rounds as we can handle. At the end of the night, the points get tallied up. The highest scorer gets the big cash prize from the pot. The biggest loser gets their $5 back. Oh yeah, and I forgot to mention the travelling fuzzy dice that gets tossed around when someone rolls a certain pattern of numbers. Whoever is left with that at the end wins something too.
And in between all the table-hopping, we fill up our plate, grab a quick refill, and kiss the dice for luck. It’s fast-paced fun.
I know there’s probably much more to this, but this is all the margarita/wine/beer Bunco gods have allowed me to grasp at this point.
Speaking of which, our hubbies may refer to this as Drunco night (I know mine does), but I suspect they’re just a wee bit jealous. After all, isn’t it supposed to be the men who get to escape for a while for a few rounds of golf, pool, or a booze-laden night of poker while we wonder when they’re coming home and what kind of shape they’re going to be in when they finally get there? Have the dice tables turned a tad here? Will I face an icy reception the night I come home a loser, $5 poorer, tossing my dirty dish in the sink, singing a slurred version of “I Will Survive”?
It doesn’t matter, because this is how the Bunco ladies roll.
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