The Reverse Vampire Syndrome

Vampires lose their power when the sun comes up; Fizban loses his bowling ability when the lights go down and the blacklights come on. After five consecutive spares, his whole game went to pot, the chance to beat me suddenly quashed. But wait, let me start this story at the beginning...

I was pretty spent at the end of the teaching day yesterday, but of course there was still stuff to do. Halfling needed to run over the last remaining movement of his audition piece, so we got right on that...eventually (as most saxophonists will tell you, the motivation to play "legit" isn't anywhere near as strong as it is for jazz). When we'd done all we could do, the hunger pangs were setting in. I asked Halfling what he wanted to do, and the answer was immediate: "Guys' night out."

After a quick trip to Whataburger, we decided to hit Bowl-A-Rama so I could school him in some bowling (he had missed the past two TD/D excursions); my away message on AIM directed others there if they were so inclined. Surprisingly, the wait wasn't very long--45 minutes, according to what the counter dude told me--so we decided to hit the air hockey table.

I've always been a fairly aggressive air hockey player; we actually had a little table at home growing up until Mom got sick of the black marks on the wall whenever my sister and I would play and the puck would go flying everywhere. Years later, the pucks still fly. On the last TD/D night, we just thought they were all over the place, but nothing compared to this night.

The puck went left; it went right; it nearly went out the front door. It hit a few people, nearly hit several others (including the cop--yikes). It went under one of the video games so far that one of the workers had to find it with a flashlight and fish it out with a stick. It went over some of the video games, all the way to the far end of the arcade. I hadn't laughed that hard in a long time (well, OK, except maybe last time when I accidentally hit the leopardskin-clad lady at the next table right in the middle of the cleavage).

Halfling and I were pretty evenly matched; a lot of the games were won 7-6, and it seemed like we'd each have streaks of good and bad, as if we were passing the "ball of suck" across the table to each other. Near the end of one of the games, my phone rang; Demon Matt was on his way. I even beat him in a game, which didn't happen last time out. Partway through the Duel of the Matts, the beeper went off and we got our lane.

I started out on a tear--I didn't even have an open frame until the fifth, I think. Once I finally failed to convert a spare, the "real me" came back to an extent, but I still ended up with a 157, I think. Fizban joined us for the last two games. We all talked about how much fun this was and even pondered the idea of finding some summer league and forming a team with the four of us and Dingus--a true Team Demon/Dingus if you wish. (Dingus was the only one missing in action that night; he was, of course, out with his new "squeeze." We really are happy for him, even if it does lead to some overly sappy posts lately. Heh heh.)

The only downside to the whole night was the drunk people who were on the lane next to us for the last couple games. For some reason, I always attract the drunk women at bowling alleys. These two women I'll call Lush Life and Pouty Waif; the former was the tipsy, obnoxious one, and the latter came back from every ball with this blank, drug-addled, someone-just-ran-over-my-puppy look on her face, and she never said a word the whole time. I'll let the quotes tell the story:

LUSH LIFE (blocking the way to my lane before the next turn): Here, why don't you use this ball instead? (referring to the other 14-pounder in our area)
ME: No, I can't; the holes are too small.
LUSH LIFE: Too small? No, look how big these holes are! (putting her own fingers in them)
ME: I don't think that will work for me, you know...
LUSH LIFE: Well here, why don't you let me take that turn for you and you can bowl over on my lane?
ME: Why would I want to do that?
LUSH LIFE: C'mon, it'd be fun...
(nearly a minute passes; she's still staring at me and all in my face)
ME: Umm, can I bowl now?
LUSH LIFE (to her friends): Wow, he takes this bowling thing seriously...

In the meantime, the guys were also noticing what was going on...
DEMON MATT: Whoa, look at that; that chick is flirting with Kev...oh wait, she's drunk.

ME (after my turn): This always happens to me at bowling alleys. Do I only look good to women when they're wearing beer goggles?
HALFLING: Man, I hope not.

At any rate, I spent the rest of the evening trying not to bowl when Lush Life or Pouty Waif were up there, because they had no concept of "lane etiquette" and would just barge right there up in front of you when you were getting set to go. After I missed a shot because of that, I just gave up and let them go ahead.

So it was a great night all in all. Fizban and I capped the evening by Whataburger-ing (yes, it's a verb now) until "only" 2:20 a.m.

QUOTE OF THE DAY: "It's like pissing all over a really good cake."--Halfling, when I told him about an extremely flat, boring performance of the famous "Groovin' Hard" sax soli that I heard the other night.

COLLECTIVE QUOTE OF THE DAY: "Too many fetuses."--All of us, upon noticing the preponderance of middle-schoolers at the Bowl-A-Rama.

BLOW OUT THE CANDLES: Happy Birthday Coop! The Trifecta awaits...