Sometimes, Cheating is Okay

I’m not allowed to sit next to Nena or Pops whenever we play because I mastered the art of discreetly passing cards under the table at the age of seven. Between Nena, Pops, and I, we were monsters. Ruthlessly taking out anyone who got in our way  — even the people we were closest to.

I’ll never forget the first time someone else’s cards made their way into my hand. I was six and a half, engaging in a casual afternoon game with Nena and Liz. We worked our way clockwise, and I began to panic that my assets were lacking. We had been stuck on the color green for a few rounds, so things weren’t looking too great for me. Liz lightly placed the lustrous pasteboard on the table: a green 8 — the thing almost seemed to stare back and laugh at me.

It was my turn. I glanced at the fanned deck in my lap, then back at the table. As I was about to shamefully draw for what might’ve been an eternity, I felt a delicate tap on my knee. I looked back down and there it was — the answer to my prayers: a yellow 8 held by the hand of my in game guardian angel, Nena.

I kept my poker face and took the card gingerly. I proudly snapped the yellow eight on top of the obnoxious green pile. Victorious. It was the start of a unique bond that has doubtlessly remained 15+ years later.

I soon realized that this card game solidarity did not start with me — Nena and Pops had been cheating together for decades. Then I came along, the dawn of a new generation of cheaters, to carry on the praxis of deceit.

Our cheating went under the radar for months as we perfected our strategy of how we would obliterate the 6 person dining room table. Naturally, when the rest of the family found out about this alleged cheating ring, they were upset.

How could we do this? Why were we doing this? That’s not fair? Well, as my High school Chemistry teacher once eloquently put it: if you’re not cheating, you’re not trying hard enough. And she was right. We were simply exhausting every resource possible to ensure our victory — initially.

As time went on and other people started dipping their toes in the dark side of the cheating pool, it became less about winning and more about making sure your enemy was losing. Eventually, an enemy was chosen at random and most of the table would contribute to the war effort. We were Machiavellian: waiting until the person was one card away from victory to launch a guerrilla attack. Our next-door neighbors might’ve thought we were watching a championship sports game — we often cheered with loud enthusiasm when we obliterated our common enemy’s chance at triumph. You may be thinking: you guys were so focused on your adversary. Did you ever rally around winning? The simple answer is no: rarely did we ever aim for victory. Come to think of it, I don’t think victory was ever the goal.

You see, when Nena passed me that catalytic yellow 8, it wasn’t with the expectation that I’d win or that I’d pass some cards back. 18 years later, I don’t even remember who won that game. But I do remember my aunt making the selfless choice to help her niece win a game, even if it meant she would lose. It taught me to pass my winning cards to the people I love when they need it. I’ll never understand why my family doesn’t like playing Uno anymore because to me, it’s when I’ve felt the most supported and loved.

Sometimes, cheating is okay.