Last night from 10:00-2:00 a.m. I entered the magical world of GLOW BOWLING!
I must say an interesting array of people came out of the corners for Glow Bowling. I saw families who probably get together every week to enjoy the pitchers of soda, escape their screaming children and catch up on each other’s lives. There were 14-year-old boys who were littered in tattoos and believed they were hard asses at bowling and life. One of the boys even had a tattoo of the state of Ohio with “614” (Columbus’ area code) inked inside; he’s going places. The same 14-year-old gang thought bowling well meant going into the system and changing all of their scores to strikes.
My favorite group was the parents who brought their 16-years-olds along so they could attempt to bond. The parents were throwing the fist bumps and doing victory dances after every bowl. After their 16-year-old would bowl they would shout, “That’s my boy!” and stretch out for a high-five.
The group I was with last night didn’t fit into any of these categories; we were college students seeking out a different atmosphere than the bars. My friends grabbed some pitchers of beer and I grabbed a pitcher of Sprite (this really shouldn’t shock you if you read my last post). We then staked out lane nine and prepared for six games of bowling!
(This is the time I brag about my amazing bowling skills.) I ended up getting numerous strikes and spares to get named the bowling champion by my drunkest friend (yea, maybe that doesn’t hold much weight but I’ll still take the label). I have to admit though, the more games we played the more tired my arm got and the worse I bowled.
At one point, we decided as a group that we were going to give our main arms a break and begin bowling left handed. For most of us this actually was an improvement from our recent bowling. For others we found ourselves doing weird foot dances trying to find the right steps and staring at the bowl in amazement thinking, “How does this work in the opposite hand?!”
By our last game my arms were tired and my eyes were ready to go to bed; so I decided to try a grandma bowl. I threw the ball with both hands while practically sitting on my bum. When it eventually made it to the end of the lane I stood up and said, “Grandma is tired.”
I might have been exhausted by the end of the night but I would do it again. (Especially with the hope of witnessing more than one person drop the ball behind them mid-swing and watching it go flying past an innocent bystander…)
