We recently celebrated the leaving from the nest of two of our family- my brother Tom and my cousin Chelsea. (Yea, named after Bill’s daughter. Got a problem?) Since I am the master of sudden inspirations, I decided bowling would be a great idea for 10 people from teens to thirties to get together and have a roaring good time. That’s right, we’re gonna roar like dinosaurs did.
We booked a party package at a sort of nearby bowling alley, got lost on the way there and ended up with 5 people in two lanes, pitchers of soda, nachos, popcorn, French fries and lots of pizza. And that’s the thing when you eat while bowling, you realize that your hands are absolutely filthy! I mean, when was the last time you saw someone sanitize one of those bowling ball finger holes. Not to be Dr. Oz, but eating with your hands while bowling is really disgusting. That means everyone wound up with tiny party forks (the ones that break when you stab too hard) and tried to maneuver nacho chips slowly to their mouths.
Jenny, one of the married members of our generation is a bowling turn nazi. If you don’t get your butt up to the lane to at least grapple at one of the many coloured balls in the turnstile, you are going to get a really loud, “IT’S YOUR TURN!” Which works because honestly, how many games can a big group get through if there’s not ONE of those people? Jenny really missed her calling as a drill sergeant because as I’m standing by the food counter, trying to order another plate of nachos and popcorn to stave off these starving bowlers, trying to give love advice to my little cousin who can’t decide between guy 1, guy 2 and oh yea, there’s guy 3 that likes me but I don’t like him, I hear a clear-
“HEY. IT’S YOUR TURN, *PANDA.”
Afraid of facing the wrath of the Jenny, we grabbed the food, not even stuffing the change back into our wallets and race back six lanes to get to our group…only to find she’s skipped us. Both of us.
“Yea, she’d already started skipping your name in the computer when you rounded the corner.” Her sister said nonchalantly.
Bowling is a serious sport.
Obviously my name isn’t Panda. It’s just a pseudonym. Or is it…?