I leaned on the counter at Riverdale Dinner and Bingo in Weber County, reading my membership application. It said the private club does not sell video bingo. That would be illegal gambling in Utah. Instead, it says it sells food, and the bingo comes with it for free.

But as I was signing my application, an older woman came to the cashier and paid $140 — all in nice, crisp $20 bills. She wanted more "credits" to play more video bingo. The cashier punched some numbers on a central computer to give them to her.

The only food I saw that video bingo player consume was a mostly untouched soft drink sitting by her computer screen. I saw the same woman later spend at least another $100, again all in crisp $20 bills, to obtain yet more credits.

So by Riverdale's figuring, that woman had bought a $240-or-so soft drink, and she wasn't really losing money on her "free" bingo betting.

I spent about 45 minutes playing video bingo there myself earlier this month. Some prosecutors would say I was illegally gambling. Bingo hall owners say what I did was legal. Today's main story looks at their arguments. This sidebar looks at my experience at Riverdale and how much bingo halls may look and act like illegal casinos.

As I walked into Riverdale, three women and a man — all appearing to be in their 50s or 60s — were busy playing "Magicball Sweepstakes," a type of video bingo, on touch-screen computer monitors. I told the cashier that I wanted to play, too.

She explained it was a private club, and I would have to fill out an application — and pay a $5 fee to join. (But I would get a $5 off coupon if I came back for traditional bingo some evening). I was told the private club status allowed members to smoke, which two of the four people there were doing.

I said I wanted to buy just $5 worth of electronic bingo for now. I forgot that the application form asked me not to say that — and instead to ask to buy $5 worth of food — but the cashier did not correct me.

She took my $10 ($5 to join, and $5 for food/bingo). She produced a receipt that said I bought five "coffees" at $1 each. I don't drink coffee and didn't ask for it.

The cashier insisted on getting me a drink. I took a Sprite. She said lasagna was also available. She told me to eat all I wanted. But I said I just wanted to play the machine. The other players also had only drinks at their terminals.

The cashier gave me a quick tutorial on how to play. She had me type into the machine a number that had been printed on my receipt. The computer then showed that my $5 bought 500 credits. Each game would cost 25 credits . . . essentially 25 cents.