the big bowlbowski

Last weekend we took Ji bowling for the first time. I had to go and do a reconaissance mission at the local bowling alley in order to prepare for a field trip later that week (heh heh, very edumacashunal, this 'bowling', I hear) and so I got Phet and Ji to go along and roll with me. A few of Phet's friends came along as well. We met up at Thong Lor Major Bowl, a brand-new alley just above the very expensive grocery store where Phet buys his weekly fix of prosciutto and I get my tamarind yogurt. The alley has only 8 lanes but is very posh, spic-n-span, and all the surfaces from the balls to the floors to the walls gleam. The game is all computerized so there's no need to actually figure out scores. This is, of course, a boon for anyone playing with me since I'm entirely mathematically daft (yes! even adding simple, whole numbers is a challenge for me!). On the other hand, it makes games go alot faster and thus empties out one's pocket rather more quickly. Still, the cheeseball graphics that the computers display for each of your shots are highly amusing and well worth the extra cash.

I have to say, though, that the only thing I really love about new bowling alleys are their perfectly even floors. I prefer old decor, old shoes, old pins, and old music. Phet and I have been bowling in a wide variety of locales. I guess, come to think of it, that bowling is the only organized sport that we participate in together on a relatively regular basis. Back when we were in high school, the place to go was Thorncliff bowling out on Overlea. It was dang hard to get to if you didn't have a car, which meant I went there a maximum of four or five times. The bowling alley was strangely located underneath a vast above-ground parking lot and had to be accessed from a staircase that appeared as if out of nowhere in the middle of the parking lot. The other Toronto alley we'd go to was the Danforth Bowl near Coxwell. Danforth Bowl is another deeply underground alley, but it features five pin bowling rather than the usual ten. It's cheap, very retro (basically feels like Gramma Rita's basement with a bowling alley instead of the gift wrapping room and a snack bar instead of her downstairs bathroom), and snug. Ashley's Toronto wedding shower was held at the Danforth Bowl and as you can see from the photo on the right, I was in fine bowling form. Phet and I also had the great luck to go bowling up in the Sault when we were visiting Sing, Lisa, and Quinlan. The bowling alley there appeared to be quite prosperous and busy indeed. We went on a weekend in the early afternoon and it was full of league players, ranging in age from the very teeny to the very tottery. The alley itself was functionally decorated - I seem to recall a fair bit of pumpkin orange plastic - and well maintained.

One of my favourite bowling experiences was going with Phet and Aaron down in Carolina when we went back to pick up Phet's books after he'd graduated. I vaguely recall that the bowling outing took place late in the afternoon on a day that had been like many of the others we'd enjoyed that holiday. We woke up late in Aaron's double-wide trailer where we were sleeping on the floor in the guest / storage room that featured an ensuite bathroom with a defunct jacuzzi. We must've eaten some breakfast. Perhaps there was some baking involved. That could have been the day of the big game, when we went to the bar at 10 am and ordered ourselves the ever-famous Chapel Hill beer buckets. It could also have been the day that we eventually made our way back to the trailer with bags full of booze from the SUPER FANTASTIC American liquor store and then drank for the rest of the afternoon. Then, just as the sun was setting and dusk was drifting its shadowy fingertips across the Carolina sky we headed off to bowl. I'd never bowled inebriated before (strange! but true!) and boy, was it ever fun.

Bowling is already a hoot. You really can't be grumpy and bowl. And the game is ideally accompanied by moderate inebriation - you socialize but just for here-and-there moments, you get to cheer for your friends but you aren't surrounded by psychotic sports fans who want to start a mob attack after the game, the room is well-lit and the temperature is good, there's background noise but not so much that you can't converse, you get to sit down and have a sip of your drink every five minutes, you are actually occupied in a worthwhile endeavour and not watching TV, and best of all there is a clean and easily accessible bathroom available should you require it. I have to tell you, those games in Chapel Hill were some of the best ever. After we bowled, we might have gone to eat at the Chapel Hill culinary monument, the Ram's Head Rathskeller. The Rathskeller is another weird underground - like, under the ground, not underground - place. It is a restaurant that serves Italian and American food and the windowless underground rooms are all decorated in strangely different ways. For some reason, it is a tradition to scrawl stuff on the walls of the Rathskeller, and so while you eat you can read jaunty graffiti from the past twenty years. The waiters are all ancient be-aproned African American men in black trousers and white dress shirts and they appear to be known by name to most of the customers. I googled the Rathskeller to check my spelling of the name and found a review that stated, "The lasagna is literally like salted grease in a bowl." Incredibly enough, the reviewer went on to say, "I'll never eat there again." Salted grease in a bowl, man! Is that not the apex of American cuisine? Duh - popcorn and butter? Potato chips? KFC? Popcorn shrimp? Me, I can't really think of anything I'd rather eat that salted grease in a bowl. Unless of course it's salted grease on a platter served with capers and wedges of lemon.

My other experience bowling in the states was at the famous New Orleans Rock 'N Bowl. Oh, and wait, speaking of salted grease in a bowl, New Orleans is the home of salted grease! BUCKETS of crawfish in spicy butter. Vast baskets of deep fried pickles. Beignets, dear god, the beignets at Cafe du Monde. I'll admit that beignets are actually sugared grease on a plate, but they're damn good anyways. And lastly, might I ask for a moment of silence while we contemplate the ethereal beauty of a fresh Popey's butter biscuit?

But back to the Rock 'N Bowl. Mum, Dad, Em and I went to the Rock 'N Bowl one evening while we were in Lousiana, and I must admit that despite the stellar ambience, I was grumpy while bowling. The old school signage, the clacketty linoeleum stairs, the Budweiser, the tequila, and even the fascinating patrons couldn't bring me out of my bad mood. It boiled down to this: our balls were chipped and our lanes were uneven. No matter how you bowled, the ball always rolled to the right. It drove me nuts. Above all, a bowling alley must have even floors. It's just not, y'know, maintaining the proper order of the universe when you have messed up floor boards. It's like going to a hospital and seeing food scraps on the floor of an operating room. Or taking a swim in a pool filled with sea urchin. It's just not right.

Here in South East Asia we've enjoyed excellent bowling alleys because they were all built in the past ten years. In Vietnam, after watching the cockeyedly-censored-and-rezipped-together video of The Big Lebowski (that had all of Sam Elliot's parts cut out...why? We don't know...could be that the video rental guy couldn't fit the entire movie onto the tape he had. Or was Sam Elliot a threat to the government, with his lush American moustache? It remains a mystery), we began the first ever Hanoi Big Lebowski bowling tournament. Complete with white russians and uh, baked goods, the tournament was a runaway success. I believe Emma was in town at the time, and perhaps that it was even her birthday on the Big Lebowski night. Then again, it might've been Turner and Ash who were there. There's something about bowling that melts your memories together. Suffice to say that we enjoyed many a night at the StarBowl, SuperBowl, and Cosmos Bowling, and it was always superfantastic riding home on speeding motorbikes after a good game.

Bangkok stands out as not only the first place where Ji Hong went bowling, but also where we took the siblings from Pakse bowling for the first time. Much to my disgruntlement, Ming managed to kick our asses with, like, 4 strikes in the first game he'd ever played in his life. Ing was similarly spectacular. Darn those ridiculous Sayo genes that allow them to master skills they've just been introduced to! Ji Hong, however, doesn't appear to have received the ticket to bowling mastery just yet. Could have to do with the fact that he can barely hold the ball up on his own. Check out a few of the photos from our bowling bonanza last week. Ji looks pretty ept in these pics because Phet's helping out but the first few rolls were a disaster. Ji let the ball drop and it went achingly slowly about one third of the way down the alley. He's so short he can't even get the beginner's oomph that comes from simply dropping the ball at a height onto the floor a la Emma. I had to call the bowling alley dude to come and get the ball and he had to then prance out on the side rails, rescue the ball, and bring it back.

The second time Ji bowled, it was the same deal. Dropped from a height of about 4.5 inches, the ball refused to cooperate and remained once again a third of the way down the alley. It wouldn't even go into the gutter. I felt badly going to get the employee again, so I figured that I'd just go get the ball myself. I'd always thought that people didn't walk on the alleys for fear of scratching or damaging the wood, but the ball wasn't very far away, so I went ahead and walked on the alley anyways. Little did I know that they oil the alleys! I had literally taken just two steps when both my feet went flying right out from under me. I fell so quickly I didn't even have time to put my arms down to break my fall. I smashed down on my left bum check, and whacked the back of my head on the wooden floor. Then something hit me in the back. I didn't realize it, but as soon as I'd started to fall, Phet had come racing onto the alley to save his pregnant and falling wife. He got a single foot onto the alley and then he, too, went toes over teakettle and ended up in a giant heap on the alley but not before he had managed to kick me in the back. Both of us were dazed, confused, and struggling to sit up without a lot of luck when Ji Hong came barrelling down and he too went kaplooey and ended up smushed behind Phet. I don't think it's possible to write pratfalls as good as this one was. The only trouble was that none of us laughed because we were all shocked that me, the pregnant lady, had taken a heeeee-yooooooge tumble. I kept bowling, but paid careful attention to my bump (the one at the front, not the one on my bum) and soon enough it gave me a few kicks and let me know it was still hopping. Luckily I had my doctor's appointment (20 weeks!) later in the week, and she said that the baby's heart beat was very strong and it seemed to be a particularly active baby. But if it comes out with any dents, we will all know who to blame. The bowling floor oilers, that's who!

[Number Two-30-April-2006]