Be careful out there because word on the street is that everybody who tries mahjong falls in love with mahjong.
At least, that’s been the experience of Tori Rittinger, a mahjong maven who has taught more than 1,000 people how to play. In September, she opened Talk Tiles to Me, a mahjong studio in Falls Church, to satisfy surging demand for guidance and game-playing opportunities.
“I’ve never had anybody get up from their first game saying, ‘This is not for me,’” declares the former advertising executive, an Arlington mom of three.
Mahjong seems poised to become the next national obsession, akin to the pickleball craze that exploded in 2019. Rittinger is here for it.
Apparently, so are others. Her lively upstart, housed in a former therapist’s office, was already turning a profit and getting calls from would-be buyers two months into its debut, she says.
Mahjong originated in China more than 150 years ago and was brought to the U.S. by Chinese immigrants in the early 1900s. Jewish women in New York City were among the first Westerners to embrace the game, forming the National Mah Jongg League (yes, with an extra “g”) in 1937 to streamline and standardize the rules. Eighty-eight years later, the league is still going strong.
Rittinger’s game parlor has a festive vibe, with beguiling wallpaper and fuchsia painted trim. Near the entrance, a glass chimpanzee head wearing a pink “MAHJ” cap sits next to a pink neon sign proclaiming, “You deserve this.” Several large candy jars filled with colorful mahjong tiles look enticing enough to eat.
Talk Tiles to Me offers private and group lessons, league play, private parties, open-play events and theme nights.
Rittinger likens the game to a mash-up of poker and chess. (Others have compared it to rummy.) Four players collect and jettison tiles in the hopes of forming specific patterns published annually by the National Mah Jongg League. It’s a game of both luck and skill, with many rules. The first player to form prescribed patterns with all their tiles yells “Mahjong!” and everyone rejoices.
At least everyone did on a recent instructional night, when the studio’s rooms were filled with cacophonous cries of mutual encouragement. Players struggled, learned and had aha moments, with attentive instructors egging them on.
After being introduced to the game by his mahjong-obsessed sister, Andrew Hamilton of Great Falls bought a set and taught his two elementary-age kids to play. Sometimes, instead of going out for date night, he and his wife stay in and play a two-person version.
“It’s a very social game and also very intellectually stimulating,” Hamilton says. He met Rittinger when she visited his office in D.C. to lead an instructional session for employees.
So many of mahjong’s rules and concepts apply to living a full life, Rittinger says.
“Stopping to see what is right in front of you” is the main one.