Let's Go Bowling

My wife and I went bowling on New Year's Eve. Party animals, no? We went to have some grown-up time without the kids, so we had them watched with our parents and took off. We went to Harvest Park Bowl in Brentwood because we had a coupon. Oh yeah baby, we're economical. Once we arrived, we found out that they were running a special starting soon that would include 2 hours of bowling and shoes for $7 each. So of course we jumped all over that one. 'Cause we're smart. At the time we were selecting our shoe sizes, two hours of bowling didn't seem like that big a deal. This is the one thought that would hurt us (figuratively and literally) later on.

First off, let me explain that I'm no athletic slouch. I played baseball for 14 years, still play softball, played basketball for 10 years competitively and coached for 5 years. I have been golfing since I was 6 and lettered in that 3 years in High School. I know my way around sports. My wife doesn't even like to watch sports that I play, even when I'm playing them. That said, my highest game was 146. Which isn't to horrible for not having played in I don't know how long. That game I bowled 146 I also beat my wife, who only got around 120. Now that was my best game, and also her worst game. The other 6 games we played, she slaughtered me. The first game I struggled to break 90, and barely made it.

This particular alley had a speedometer somewhere down the lane and i was able to keep a pretty steady run of 22 mph's flying down that lane. My wife topped out at 16 mph. Of course, I kicked her ass in the speed competition, however, they don't give out trophy's for that. Not that I know of at least. And if they do, then I want one...badly.

So the rest of the games consisted of me struggling to hit 100 while my wife cruised to easy 130's+. Her high game was 165, which she reminds me of semi-frequently, and that crushed my game of 104. And to make me even more sucky there was a blind old man bowling in the lane next to us. He was literally blind, he had the glasses and a rail that was placed next to the lane that he could place his hand against and helped him to walk forward towards the lane. He would walk all the way to the front of the lane feeling for the beginning of the lane. Once he felt the 'don't cross this line' line he would count his steps backwards, the walk forward, throw his ball down the lane and listen to hear if he hit the pins. Then he would turn around and ask his old folk friends what was left. They'd tell him like, "5,8,10 pins" and he'd line up and knock most of those down. He did better than me also.

Moral of this story, I need to go bowling more. Anyone who wants to go, let me know and we'll figure something out.