Yesterday was the kind of

Yesterday was the kind of spring day you fantasize about when in the dead of winter or summer, the kind that happens to be the exact right temperature and gathers the perfect couple of friends and everyone is content to just be alive and outside. J and I took a perfect bike ride to Park Slope to have brunch with some friends and then met up with some others to hit the bowling alley. This bowling alley is literally ten blocks from our apartment, and every time I pass it on the bus I think, “Right! Bowling alley! We should go bowling.” As soon as it disappears from my line of vision I completely forget about its existence and my brain never suggests it for a possible activity until I happen to be passing it again on the bus. So I was glad when someone else suggested the activity earlier in the week; I might be able to retrain my brain if I’m able to actually get to the bowling alley every once in awhile.

Unfortunately, by the time we’d gathered, the whole alley was taken over by kids and their birthday parties for several hours. This turned out to be a godsend, as we then ended up going back to our apartment and basking in the backyard as the afternoon settled in. Later that evening, we headed back and played a couple games. Kelly and I took bowling for school credit in college, but it turns out I only retained the academic portion of this, and not so much the physical. By that I mean I was handily able to give people lots of advice while consistently throwing the ball into the left corner and ultimately bowling a 75.

Fun things at the ghetto bowling alley:

Someone had thrown away a poopy diaper in the bar trashcan, thus making the bar area smell like poopy diaper.

Abby’s grandmother used to be an avid bowler and gave Abby her bowling shoes, which she brings with her on bowling excursions. Bowling shoe fashion does not seem to have changed. At all. In fact, Abby’s were by far the nicest pair.

Abby’s approach to the lane is very model-cat-walky. Hot!

Kedar’s attempt at the little leg slide at the end of a throw, made all of us shout “Ole!” If he bowled a strike or spare, this was amended to, “Ole, motherfucker!”

Jason, we discovered, is completely freaked out by Renaissance people, or “rennies,” as he calls them. It turns out there are endless ways in which to screw with someone if they admit that to you.

The bartender that afternoon was really doing several things at once, so would sometimes run into the bar to serve you coming from a different activity. As we were walking out Kedar said, “Y’know, when the bartender was serving us, I thought he was just being really clean by wearing gloves…” [Pan to bartender emptying trashcans outside wearing same gloves.]

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