I now have come to anticipate, even expect, the ship's gentle pitching as it nods over the waves. When I was eating dinner in Hawaii, I became almost seasick. The floor began to feel uneven, as though it was rising up and down beneath my feet, and for a few moments I felt like I was either going to vomit or pass out. It passed.

The winning card

This morning, it was my turn to take care of little Greta. The two of us hung out in the room for all of three minutes, then decided to check in on Mummy, who was in the lounge playing Bingo. Laura told me that each of the two bingo cards she was playing cost $8 apiece and I shook my head in judgment.  Nevertheless, I took the second card and Greta and I sat down to play. On the first round, an elderly man yelled out "bingo." He walked up to the front of the room to have his claim verified and the announcer, speaking into the microphone, said, "Sorry folks, its a bungo." ("Bungo" is the technical term for a false bingo.)  His embarrassment was palpable.

Next round, I found myself with the winning card. But instead of yelling out bingo, I hesitated, fearful that I, too, had bungoed. So I handed the card to my wife, who has more guts than me, saying, "It's a bingo. It's a bingo." And it was. Laura stood in front of a crowd of envious grey-hairs, savoring the sweet taste of glory. But I will get to taste the yet sweeter nectar that is $140 in cold, hard cash. This evening--which is yesterday for most of you--I'm taking my winnings to the blackjack table to continue what I started in Wendover. Wish me luck.