Fear and loathing in the bowling alley

Sarah Leonard

Anyone who knows me well knows that I have two main fears in life — carnies and bowling shoes. Aside from a stint in junior high physical education class, I can remember only one other time I strapped on a pair of community shoes, and I’d rather forget it.

It’s not that I’m too snotty to wear hideous shoes.

It’s that I was too snotty to wear shoes that hundreds of other people had worn. Ick.

As for the carnies, they’re just plain gross.

With their greasy hair, torn Motley Cre T-shirts, knocked out teeth that haven’t been brushed since the last public shower facility they stopped at two states away, mustaches that hang down to their shirt collars (and I’m not just talking about the guys) … they give me the creeps.

You just want to load them up in a pick-up and run them through the carwash.

This was a year of liberation, however. I conquered one of my fears.

I joined a bowling league.

Laugh if you will — I’m not ashamed. I spent nearly every Sunday night this school year at 20th Century Bowling Lanes making a jackass out of myself.

Just because I joined a league, mind you, doesn’t mean I’m any good.

The league lasted 21 weeks, wrapping up this past Sunday.

I missed the trophy ceremony for the winners, TMC (Too Many Cocktails). To be honest, I’m a little bitter.

I bowled for Lumpy’s along with another girl who works at People’s with me and two others who pretty much keep Lumpy’s in business.

By this I mean they have their own booth (well, they call it “their” booth) and their own song on the jukebox, 9510 (until the jukebox broke).

We also had a stand-in: Kapron.

He showed up more often than a couple of the team members including myself; occasionally, we let him bowl.

We were supposed to have bowling shirts with our names embroidered on them just like LaVerne and Shirley, but I don’t think my boss ever ordered them.

That’s OK; we only came in ninth place.

We didn’t deserve shirts.

Though it could have made the difference. TMC had shirts.

Anyway, I think our placing was a conspiracy by the owners of the alley.

There is no way we knocked off three or four of the top teams and still ended up in ninth.

Those guys never liked us. We were always having problems.

Plus, there was that time when Mackenzie threw her ball down the lane when the bar was still down. They didn’t like that very much.

The all-male Wallaby’s team came out ahead of us even though they were our first win. Not that they were a challenge.

After an afternoon of Golden Tee and Budweiser, those chumps were worthless.

Red Lobster was intimidating the first time we played them.

Their grace and form put us to shame.

And we had moves.

Renee’s Fedosa Shuffle, Mackenzie’s Diamond Cutter, Jayme’s Dirty Bird, Kapron’s sprint down the lane, and my … well, I just fell a couple times.

Anyway, back to the Long John Silver’s guys.

They had two towels; one for wiping off their hands, and one for wiping off their bowling ball.

This threw us at first — you see, we’re not exactly down with the bowling alley dos and don’ts.

Mackenzie used a towel to wipe her hands off once, thinking that they were provided by the alley.

Well, the head fish guy came down to let her know that the towel was his, but it’s OK if she used it this once.

The second time we faced that crew we took those towels and whipped their ass. Then we tossed them back so they had something to wipe their eyes with.

I’ll admit, I was kicking myself after I committed to join the league. All I could think about were those shoes.

But I got myself into it, so I couldn’t back out. In the end, though, I’m glad I got out there and conquered my fear of bowling shoes.

As for the carnies, I think I can live with one fear.


Sarah Leonard is a senior in journalism and political science from Lawler.