Bowling in Brooklyn

I ordered a beer. It came in a plastic cup from a bartender wearing a cumberbun. The Melody Lanes bowling alley is a place that time forgot.

See, the girls, a couple of their friends and I had gone out to Brooklyn by the Number Two train tonite. We met E. and W. at the Barnes and Noble on Court Street. E. drove through the Shlushpocalypse of Brooklyn to the bowling alley. In the car, we talked about kids’ ingratitude, unwritten books, blogs, plans to travel to France.

Right in front of Melody Lanes, there was a parking spot just waiting for us, as if we were rock stars. It looked crowded but we were at the front of the lane in no time. The woman behind the counter assigned us Lane 12. She reminded me of a beloved hall monitor from high school. Tough, but tender underneath. Brooklyn all the way.

We keyed our names into the electronic bowling screen. I chose my usual name Gorgeous. We girls enthusiastically cheered for one another if we ever managed to get a couple of pins down (and I’m talking the bumpers were up).

We ordered fries and nachos and burgers. Then I hit on the beer idea.

The bar was the highlight. Because the bartender, Pete, was schmoozing with someone. Just as I approached that irritation point, wondering, Is he ignoring me? There Pete was. Like he had ESP or something. It turns out Pete is very famous because there are 7 tips about Pete on Foursquare — the man is known for his cumberbun, his drink special and for being that “hilarious, eccentric, cursing bartender.”

The other highlight was on our way out, seeing a bunch of people dressed up like characters from The Big Lebowski, a movie I have never seen. But it looked good based on what the characters were wearing, especially the pregnant woman in the nude-colored body suit with the vines around her. She was Eve.

So that’s Saturday night in Brooklyn. None of us broke 100 (and again, we had bumpers!). I wish I had taken pictures to show you, but just imagine a 1950s bowling alley and then you’ve got the picture.

One thought on “Bowling in Brooklyn

  1. Engaging descriptions. I love to walk through those portals into a past world that has somehow escaped the cutting machine of time where it would be deemed unworthy, and sacrificed to the trash bins of history.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s