Strike.

So Simon didn’t come, which was a bummer, but that was still an hour of my life worth commemorating.

Elena had told me that she called ahead and made a reservation for us, so imagine my surprise when we arrived at the alley (in the basement of a hotel) with only four lanes total, only one of which was in use. Despite the lack of quantity, the quality was surprisingly good, including the now-normal screens which played ridiculous videos and tracked the score electronically, and, more noticably, permanent black-light lighting (Elena joked that finally she felt like the clothes she washed were really getting clean, since all of the white looked so white). The most impressive feature was a speedometer that told you how fast your throw was after each bowl. The numbers, unfortunately, meant nothing to me, since they were in km/hr, but it was still a cool concept. Jan, however, seemed to take it more seriously. His method of bowling consisted of standing as far back as possible, getting a flying start, and then whipping the ball down with all his might. I had to admire his utter lack of attention to direction. He got really into it, jumping up and down when he did well, but he was still a good sport when he did poorly, which was sadly most of the time. You could tell he was getting frustrated when his delivery turned into him literally running down the lane before he threw. The more I think about it, the more he looks like a skinnier (but not skinny) Santa Claus.

Elena took the direct opposite approach; she would stand by the line, get set, take several wind-up/practice swings, and then let go. This was actually fairly effective, and you could tell she was very pleased. I really shouldn’t be making fun of them, since I’m sure they were amused by my stutter-step bowl. They both were extremely cute and very supportive of one another and of me. In fact, after almost every bowl, it was necessary to give another one of the appreciative “Hesky”s that I’m starting to know so well. After I bowled a spare I even got a “Dobrou Hesky!”

The other occupied lane housed one guy whose girlfriend sat watching him the whole time. Aftter he got a strike, she would give him a low high-five. He bowled at least three games by himself while we were there. It was so funny.

Also, there was a bar right next to the alley, and they were playing large music videos, so Justin Timberlake provided the melody for my bowling. It was awesome.

I should also point out that true to my Wisconsin gym-class training, I won both games (which were played at break-neck speed; once the person before you was done, you WENT- Megan you would have loved it), though not by much, and that’s not saying much. I was a bit thrown off by the fact that instead of the normal bowling lines/markers, the whole lane was painted like a road, complete with dotted lane markers going down the middle. These markings started where you were supposed to start your approach (I guess) which was a good ten feet back. So strange.