SPARE US: Dress it up and slap a full bar in the back
It's still a bowling alley. The pins may be neon. The blacklights may make white-shirts that trippy purplish-blue. The bar may stock more than beer. The kitchen may serve appetizers that include nachos rather than serving strictly nachos, but the alley- still for bowling. And the ugly shoes? Still ugly! Maybe the ugly shoes are the essence of bowling? The thought of rolling a ball and knocking over wooden pins with nice-looking shoes; crippling.

On the one hand, this should have been my perfect bar. One of the things I've never mastered is bar behavior.* The mixture of cocktails and conversation is a baffling one to me. Add in noise and women and basically I'm useless. Most of my trips to bars end up in a grumpy-that-was-pointless exit. A bar with a scorecard, a bar with a purpose, that should be right up my alley! I was too focused on getting my money's worth to really figure out if the place was my perfect bar. No easy task with the prices they charged.

The smelly orange and blue vinyl and plastic combinations that usually arch around an alley scorers table were replaced with very classy and comfortable chic couches. Pre-lane, not including the electronic scorecard, this place was a martini glass. Not in that clear vermouth with an enormous olive on a toothpick way, but in the sleek-lines, Frank-Sinatra-is-hiding-around-the-corner kind of way. The music, however, failed the Rat Pack. The alley opted instead for slow remixes of the classics. I refer of course to the classics like "Come on Eileen." There wasn't any smoke, which is a beautiful thing, but almost feels like cheating when I'm comparing bars.

As much as I want to disparage this trendy bowling alley in my county, I think I enjoyed myself. Even in defeat. There was one small detail that troubles me more than the money and more than the idea of bowling being the "it" scene. It's having to tell my children that I met their mother at a trendy bowling alley bar. NO. Not really. I can think of worse fates.

It's those little lane arrows. I have this same problem with my Extreme bowling and with proper support I'm thinking of starting a letter writing campaign. When my dad taught me how to bowl, he taught me to focus on the arrows instead of the pins. If the alleys turn out the lights, I CAN'T SEE THE ARROWS! They can make the pins glow. They can shoot spotlights all across the room. The lanes can have emergency plane lights directing me to the nearest strike and/or exit, but the little arrows are always neglected.

Alleys, that's a gutterball in my book. Light my arrows and put out the fire that burns in my soul.


*(It's fine with me if you decide NOT to list some of the other things I've never mastered.)