Another Quick Bowling Alley Story

By Sean Patrick

Because I enjoyed my experience so much last week, I decided to go bowling again today. Immediately I realized it was a bad idea.

First off, I was by myself and wearing a long sleeved black shirt and gray pants. Because it’s Spring Break here in Roselle, at 2 p.m. the bowling alley was packed full of teenagers. Me arriving solo in gothic colors made me look like both a kidnapper and a lonely emo adult who was trying to learn bowling to gain his father’s affection.

Next problem was that I was unknowingly still sore from last week. 

Last Tuesday, when I saw the previously documented terrifying display of parental aggression, I bowled seven games. Although bowling is a fairly non-stressful activity when it comes to exercise, there is still that one muscle, right next to my buttox on my left leg, that I never use. I would only use this muscle for bowling and curtseying. As of last week I hadn’t bowled in over two years, and I’ve never gotten the enormous round of applause while wearing a dress that would dignify me having to curtsey. Therefore this muscle, which bends as I release the bowling ball, was used 200,000% more last Tuesday than it had been in years. 

Today I prepaid for three games and began my child abducting gothic bowling session. Once I threw the first ball, I knew I shouldn’t have pre-paid. 

“ARGHHHH!” I yelled, startling the grandfather and two grandkids that were bowling next to me. I couldn’t bend over while throwing the ball without excruciating pain.

I figured I just had to stretch. “Emo man-child has to stretch to bowl!” is what I’m sure the punk teenage dudes in lane five were whispering to each other. After stretching for about a minute, I attempted to throw the second ball and still experienced the same pain. Right then I decided to man up and play through the agony. Unfortunately I’m not much of a man, so that mindset ended immediately after I threw the third ball. I realized then that I had to either try and get my money back for the games I prepaid for (like a chump), or adapt to my injury and change the way I threw the bowling ball (like an athlete).

I adapted. Instead of bending so much when I threw the ball, I stayed more upright. It still hurt, but not as much. When I took a short break I was looking around and realized my new bowling technique was similar to that of a teenage girls, only with less giggling afterwards. To make things worse, my hands are so small that the ball I was using was the exact same ball that many teenage girls were using. I know this because all the bowling balls at this alley are color coated to size, and like those girls, I was using the purple ball. I realized then that my injury and tiny hands had turned me into a teenage girl.

(me)

After debating whether or not to pick up a Justin Bieber CD on my way home, I continued to bowl. The pain gradually got worse, and eventually I started sweating because of it. The sweat was running down my face and made my hair get puffy and stick up in various directions. I was a visible wreck.

I finished all three games as fast as I could, wanting nothing more than to leave that bowling alley and ice whatever muscle group this soreness belonged to. I returned my shoes to a concerned employee, went to my car, and laughed all the way home knowing that I just accomplished one of the most pathetic bowling displays in the history of the sport.