Sunday night: The Garage
|before: when I still felt like a winner|
Amy and I headed out for our first night of bowling this past Sunday, to the Garage. The Garage is a local Cap Hill Bowling/Billiards/Food kind of place. It is retro and clean, unlike the tradition bowling alleys that are a little bit dirty and truly of their time, not made to look like yesteryear. We spent the first ten to fifteen minutes trying to decide if we wanted nicknames, or our real names. We chose nicknames, and so that took quite some time to come up with just the right names for ourselves. Something witty and funny, but not trite or childish. I know, hard for us. We begrudgingly settled on Bunny and Maude, from the Big Lebowski, in the sake of time. I was Maude, Amy was Bunny.
We were on lane 9. We were asked to go to lane 8 or something but I pouted a bit and whispered to Amy that I preferred 9. Amy spoke up and asked, the check-in person obliged. Ok, all set to bowl. Our table adorned with two "Nutty Lebowski's" (the Garage's nod to the White Russian of the movie's lead character, the Dude's, drink of preference) we ordered a pitcher of Miller High Life as a back up and got rolling.
|mmm, still a winner|
Amy looks like a pro, her ball softly hits the lane, her right foot lifts to the left in back of her after her on-target release. I, on the other hand, stiffly drop the ball with a thud and bite my bottom lip in hopes that the tighter I bite and the more I scrunch my nose, my ball will magically roll down the middle of the lane. Instead it seems to sit still as if on one of the flat escalator things in the airports, just sitting still but somehow moving down the lane, often time much too far to the right. Or left. I am an equal opportunity gutter bowler.
|and not so much.|
Needless to say, Amy won every game we played that night. Still, I had a great time, talking and bowling. Talking some more. And talking some more. We walked home that night, and I had that same feeling I used to get walking home from the Sweatbox (well, except, this time I had been drinking, not sweating my ass off...both of which admittedly can be disorienting.) The feeling was that of being satisfied with my life, where I live, what I do, loving my family and friends.
Monday day: AMF Imperial Lanes
The next day I awoke with a sore right forearm, on the underside. I guess in my Anatomy & Physiology class this summer I'll relearn just what muscle that is. After my Algebra and Chemistry classes, I wanted nothing more than to go bowling again. So, I texted Amy and she rearranged her schedule and came along. Truth be told, I would have went alone. I wonder what that would be like.
|Imperial Lanes, what you expect a bowling alley to be like.|
Anyway, the bowling alley down there, just off Rainier is quite different than the Garage. I can't say I prefer one over the other for the aesthetics of the interior, but I can say that I felt good there. It was comfortable, with its lack of pretension. Again, Amy was the winner for each game. And I felt even more stiff as I awkwardly took my three steps up to the lane and dropped my ball. My arm hurt, but my leg hurt too. Bowling, who knew I would get a workout?
Amy and I dreamed of opening our very own bowling alley. And I reminded her that we already know how to write a business plan for that!
More bowling to come...