Every wednesday night i strap on a pair of white leather shoes, roll my equipment out of my trunk, and go bowling.
Dan and I are in a wed night classic league at Pro Lanes in Reading, MA. It's nice and close to our office. It's a pretty competitive league, with the league average hovering at around 210. Our averages hover much lower than that. These days I bowl about a 184 ave.
Anyhoo, its an interesting mix o folks at these lanes. Typically overweight, middle-aged, blue collar gents gather and for one night, are very good at something they do. Many sport sweet Roy Munsen combovers. Theres actually one guy who looks like a steamboat captain. They're my wednesday night champions. I think that would be a good title for a novel. The book sleeve would read something like "Wally and Pete are 54 years old. Twice divorced and overweight, they see no light at the end of the tunnel. But one night every week, under the bright bowling alley lights, they are 'Wednesday Night Champions'"
Our 3rd teammate is an interesting case study. He's actually younger than us, and not quite a fantastic bowler. He has so many things wrong with his mechanics that we wouldnt even know where to begin if we wanted to help coach him. He's a chatty little guy, who will often spurt out the most mundane and useless information thinkable. Last night, unprompted, he declared that today for lunch he had ate pasta - angel hair - in a white cheese sauce that his mother had prepared. This has no bearing on anything. He will often ask us what the bowling order for our team will be before we start, even though the order hasnt changed in the 6 months the league has been running. He informs us, weekly, of the specials that Market Basket has going on in the produce section. I think he may suffer from mild retardation.
I think i'm going to start posting real content to this blog- but i'm not really sure where to begin.
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