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Setenta y Siete, Cinco ...

There´s a long pause and I look up from our table near the front entrance of Bingo del Sol. I see the backs of several husky men disappear through the staff entrance besides the counter where the machine sits and where the distracted girl has paused for an unusually long time. An impatient buzz rises up from the tables. Were they electricians or some other trade here to fix something? I feel unsettled and glance at Isa who looks intrigued but optimistic. The blonde behind the counter continues.

Cincuenta y Ocho, Veintinueve ...
Biiin .... go!

The echo from the employees is louder than the original cry: someone in the glassed off smoking section. Isa turns and frowns but she´s called a line during a special and so we´ve played for free. Still, she hates it when others win. The fake gold trophy-like marker is being quickly carried over to the winning table when the staff doors explode open and three heavy set muscular men stride quickly towards the far exit that leads past the slot machines and out onto Catamarca. They almost run over the girl carrying the marker but she manages to step quickly to one side. As they turn towards the exit I notice one of them is carrying a small black duffel bag. A nervous murmur becomes louder as they near the door and then disappear through it. The door is opened for them it seems to me. What the hell is going on? Were they the same ones who I barely glanced when they entered? I reach for Isa´s hand and look nervously at her.

We´ll continue with the next game.

The male voice is attempting to sound reassuring but the buzzing continues with people looking around. Some older women two tables down get up and with purses in hand leave as quickly as their legs will take them while still retaining what they hope is a little dignity. Watching them scuttle out feels like watching a poorly played bedroom farce. They squeeze through the exit door and a moment later two policemen enter through the same exit. I turn and see another come in through the staff door and head behind the counter to direct some hurried words at the male employee manning the microphone. Are those seargent stripes on his uniform? He steps to the mike.

The game is suspended. Please remain seated and please remain calm.

A chorus of indignant mutterings and even a few whistles greet the seargent´s comments. Are customers offended because of the apparent robbery or because of the delay or because of fears the jackpot will be lowered? It´s hard to say. I feel a surge of adrenaline along with relief. Isa looks furious. Her bingo has been disrupted. I feel warm, almost hot, despite the air conditoner. The expensive jean shirt we bought is sticking to my shoulders and I wish we could just leave. I gulp down what´s left of my glass of water. We should have ordered a beer, that would help. At the next table someone´s loud complaints are growing hysterical. She´s a huge platinum blonde and has rings and jangly bracelets and is even more furious than Isa. There´s more police inside the room now and one of them approaches her table. I feel claustrophobic and dizzy and I stand up just as the police moves past me. A thudding blow knocks me sideways and I think I must have slipped as our table rushes towards me. My vision fades at the edges and I taste blood and worry about my teeth. My tongue aches and my mouth feels fuzzy and acidic. I´m unsure if people are touching me as my vision narrows down to nothing and then I no longer hear anything.