My New Obsession: Mahjong

Bams, Dots & Craks With Friends

The setup that has made my obsession official.

The very first time I ever saw mahjong being played was in the movie Crazy Rich Asians.

I knew absolutely nothing about the game, but I was mesmerized by that one scene. The speed. The confidence. The clicking tiles. The obvious strategy. I had no idea what those women were doing, but I was impressed enough that I never forgot it.

For years, I had this vague thought in the back of my mind: I want to learn that someday.

At one point, I even noticed a formal mahjong class in our local community education catalog and considered signing up.

And then, fate stepped in.

At Pilates.

Divine Intervention, Pilates Edition

One day, I learned that one of my fellow Pilates gals teaches American Mahjong and offered to do a class for our group.

Yes, please.

So I started learning alongside a few Pilates friends, and it did not take long before I was hooked.

Actually, “hooked” is too mild.

I was obsessed.

I started practicing at home online, playing against computer bots. Our group met a few more times. I got more comfortable with the card. I began to understand the lingo - and slowly stopped feeling like I was trying to decipher a foreign code.

Then... naturally... I ordered my own set of tiles.

And racks.

And shufflers.

And a custom mat with a little nod to Italy, because apparently even my mahjong accessories need to know where I’d rather be.

Did I say my first set of tiles?

Rummikub on Steroids

The easiest way I can describe American Mahjong to someone who has never played is this:

It’s a little like Rummikub on steroids.

There are suits and patterns, strategy to consider, discards to watch, and approximately 9,000 moments when you realize you should have held onto a tile you casually threw away two turns ago.

It is not especially easy to learn, which is probably part of what makes it so satisfying.

You’re constantly thinking. Constantly adjusting. Constantly scanning the card and your rack and everyone else’s discards.

And occasionally staring at your tiles thinking: Wait. What exactly was I doing again?

But with practice, things begin to click.

You recognize a possible hand faster. You notice what you should keep. You learn when to abandon Plan A and pivot to Plan B, or C, or D.

And every once in a while, you actually feel like you know what you’re doing.

Bams, Craks, Kongs and Other Perfectly Normal Words

Then there is the language.

Bams. Dots. Craks. Pungs. Kongs. Winds. Dragons. Jokers.

Soon you are casually saying things like, “I should have konged the three bams,” and everyone around the table knows exactly what you mean.

There are also traditions - like the fairly universal “Cheers!” for the Bird Bam.

And house rules that can add to the fun. When someone discards a wind, our group makes wind sound effects. There seems to be an awful lot of passing wind. Our Bird Bam tradition has evolved. We started with “Cheers!” That evolved into “Norm!” - yah, like in the TV show Cheers.

And now, because apparently we are twelve, it has evolved into a bird call with a naughty little twist:

“F-caw-f!” (Emphasis on the CAW.)

Immature?

Maybe.

Does it make us giggle every single time?

Absolutely.

If you don’t play mahjong, I realize this all sounds slightly unhinged.

That’s fair.

But that’s also part of the charm.

That “Old-Lady Game” Is Having a Moment

One thing that has surprised me is how wrong - or at least outdated - the “old-lady game” stereotype seems to be.

I actually learned from a millennial.

Several of the younger women at Pilates also play. And when I started following mahjong accounts and groups online, I noticed that a lot of the people posting about mats, tiles, accessories seem to be millennials too. Even millennial celebrities like Blake Lively, Meghan Markle, Emma Roberts have been spotted playing.

I’m still trying to convince my own millennial daughter to learn.

So far, I have not succeeded.

When I told her how much I was enjoying it, her response was:

“Oh, I love that for you!”

Which, loosely translated, means:

That seems like a lovely old-lady hobby and I’m glad you found it.

She is wrong, of course.

Or at least not entirely right.

Welcome to the Harmless Cult

Because once you enter the world of mahjong, you quickly discover that the game itself is only the beginning.

Then there's all the things.

There are mats.

Racks.

Shufflers with sayings like Release Your Inner Dragon, You Shuffle—I’ll Pour and It’s About Bam Time.

There are traditional tile sets, brightly colored tile sets, themed sets, travel sets, outdoor sets — even floating sets for the pool.

You can buy an inexpensive beginner set or spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars on a beautiful name-brand one. And that doesn’t even get into the high-end or custom sets.

Some women have dozens of mats and tile sets, racks in different colors, special tablecloths, even little lamps for the center of their custom mahjong table.

It’s a whole thing.

Some have entire mahjong rooms.

Rooms.

I am not there.

Yet.

One of my favorite sayings I’ve come across online describes mahjong as:

“A harmless cult with very cute accessories.”

I'm beginning to understand.

But I Think It’s Really About Something Else

As much fun as all the stuff is—and believe me, I am enjoying the stuff—I don’t think that is why women get so hooked on mahjong.

I think there is something else going on.

It gives us somewhere to be.

It gives us something to laugh about.

It gives us a reason to get together that doesn’t involve staring at our phones or sitting across from each other wondering what we should talk about.

There’s a game happening. There’s strategy. There are inside jokes. There’s a little competition. There are snacks. Someone makes a ridiculous wind sound. Someone throws the Bird Bam and the whole table responds.

It’s connection without having to work so hard at connection.

And I think women need that.

Maybe especially now.

We live in a strange time when we can be digitally connected to hundreds of people and still feel lonely.

Retirement can add another layer to that. Our built-in social circles change. Work friendships fade. Family members are busy living their own lives. Some women are surrounded by grandbabies to love on and spend time with; some of us are not.

Making new friends as an adult can be surprisingly difficult.

Mahjong gives you a reason to gather.

And once you begin, it gives you a reason to gather again.

That may be my favorite part of all.

Recruiting My Player Pool

I need a larger player pool.

Partly because I want more people to discover how much fun this is.

And partly because coordinating four women’s schedules can require the logistical planning skills of an international summit.

So I started close to home.

I taught my husband to play. Annoyingly, he was a very fast learner.

Dennis with his first "mini-mahj"! It's about to get a lot harder, honey. Just sayin.

When my tiles first arrived, we played every night. The honeymoon phase has worn off a bit - for him - but we’re still playing a couple times a week, which is pretty good considering he does not share my level of obsession.

Another mahjong-playing couple would be ideal. A built-in foursome? Yes, please.

The Pilates friend who taught me is starting a local mahjong collective, which could open up a whole new group of people to play with regularly.

In the meantime, I recently hosted my Pilates gals for my first game day at home.

The mat was down. The tiles, racks and shufflers were ready. The snacks were even mahjong-themed.

Then the gals arrived, the tiles started clicking, and we were off.

And just like that, my first hosted game day was officially in the books.

My player pool is still a work in progress, but between Dennis, the Pilates gals, another couple hopefully waiting to be recruited, and a new local mahjong collective taking shape, I’m feeling pretty optimistic.

The bots may soon be out of a job.

And Oh, By the Way, It’s Great for the Brain

You knew I was going to get here eventually.

After all the time I’ve spent lately thinking and writing about brain health, it is impossible for me not to notice how many good-for-the-brain ingredients are packed into one game of mahjong.

You’re learning something new.

You’re remembering patterns.

You’re planning ahead, changing strategies, paying attention, making decisions and practicing a skill that gets easier - but never completely mindless - the more you play.

And if you’re playing with actual humans rather than computer bots, you’re also talking, laughing and socially connecting at the same time.

Do I think mahjong is going to single-handedly prevent Alzheimer’s?

Of course not.

But novelty, challenge, learning and social connection are exactly the kinds of things I want more of in my life as I get older.

The fact that I can get all of that while playing a game I genuinely love feels almost like cheating.

Just One More Game…

So this is where I am now.

A few months ago, I merely wanted to learn mahjong.

Today I own tiles, racks, shufflers and a custom mat.

I follow mahjong groups online.

I know what a Bird Bam is.

I have opinions about tile sets.

I’ve hosted my first game day.

And I’m already wondering what another set of tiles might look like.

Christmas isn’t that far away.

Just mentioning that for no particular reason.