Wading in the Velvet Sea

I don’t think the movie ‘Bowling for Columbine’ cost that much. The company was great, but for this price, but even including the animation on our scoring machine of bowling balls hand-gliding onto a bridge of bowling pins after each strike, it wasn’t worth that much coin.

(It was like watching ‘Bridge over the River 7-10 Split’ or the last scene of ‘Indiana Jones and the Temple of Candlepins’. Just weird. Other animations included bowling balls dressed as the Knights of Ni and the dropping of a bowling pin-shaped H-bomb over Bahgdad. OK, I made that up.)

I was spared the brunt of the cost, as I wisely decided not to drink. $30 for a night out isn’t a bad deal, but still semi-stunning considering I had a burger, two diet cokes, and ugly ass shoes to show for it.

So the five compatriots spent roughly $54 each, essentially to bowl. The majority of their costs came from the $9 drinks. No, that’s not a typo. And no, there were not naked women to enjoy to justify the cost. $9 drinks at a bowling alley/pool hall/restaurant that has a retro feel, replete with porno-funk muzak playing that clearly annoyed the waitresses to no end. Did I mention a Mai Tai costs $9? OK, just checking.

The night did, however, feature the greatest sporting achievement since winning my first match in ‘Smackdown: Know Your Role!’ on Playstation a week or so ago. The goal for game two was to get 100. Simple, right? Well, not if you’re like me and suck. However, I start off well, getting a spare. I immediately dub myself, quite loudly, a ‘GOLDEN GOD’ much to the non-amusement of the 6 skanks in the lane next to us. Now, I didn’t think they were skanks, but one of the ladies in my group certainly did. This exchange actually happened:

Me: Hey, why are you so mad?
Her: Those bitches keep stealing my balls!

($300 to bowl, and they only had one ball that any of the women could use between the two lanes that shared the ball rack. The rest were too heavy or the improper hole size. Christ, this keeps getting worse as I type. Someone stop me. Vagina! AAAHHHH. I have Typing Tourette’s now. Bollocks.)

Anyways, after a good start, I started racking up 9 after 9 after 9. With one frame left, I’m at 83, and I need a strike on the last frame to keep my silly-ass goal alive. Channeling my inner Woody Harrelson, I manage the one and only strike of the game, followed by a 7 on the next two frames. 100, on the dot. Hootering and hollering ensued on my part. (Has anyone hootered and not hollered? Is it physically possible?)

I spent the next ten minutes quietly weeping as I bemoaned the fact that I was so pumped over something so silly. Luckily no one else noticed, as they were enjoying $10 drinks named things like ‘Tripped Over a Lizard’ and ‘Slight Shade of a Haircut’.

Ryan then weeps openly as the DJ starts to play "Roll With It" by Steve Winwood.

Now we try to check out, and let me give all of you advice---never ever go to a place on Friday night mentioned in a major newspaper. While they may have cute waitresses, excellent projection screen television above the lanes, and enough money to make Midas blush, they will not, under any circumstances, have worked out any way to check anyone in or out. Holy Schnikeys. Took us 30 minutes just to pay, because there was no way to know where to go. Even the employees were confused and annoyed. Tried to give me money to the bleach blonde, who sent me to the Jamie Kennedy stunt double. The stunt double tried to get me to revisit the bleach blonde. I told him Blondie had sent me to him. Jamie was Grade A Pissed. I am never confrontational at these types of places, and even I said, ‘You mean I have to GO BACK OVER THERE’’

Something in my eyes must have revealed homicidal tendencies, since a manager immediately told me he’d take care of me, pronto. $108 later on my credit card and with enough bills in my wallet to make any strip joint immensely worthwhile, I left the establishment and the people who were on the by-then 3 hour wait for a lane. This place is going to make some serious coin, but I doubt they’ll get any more of my bling bling.

Especially if them skanks gonna steal my balls.