Bowling with the Broads

My friend The Determined Dilettante and I have been mumbling about a bowling night for months now. This past Monday we finally organized it. I asked my pals Debra and Kiki to join us. Elisabeth brought along her lovely Aussie love. DD had said we should meet in the lobby of the Port Authority bowling alley. I hadn't recalled there actually being a lobby, but figured we'd find each other.

I was the first to arrive and wasn't I gobsmacked to discover that instead of rickety glass doors, I was being ushered into the alleys via a red velvet rope! Once inside it was like I'd walked into FancyLand. There was tasteful lighting. Loungey sitting areas with naugehyde-covered cocktail menus! They moved the bar into the center of the room and on all four corners rested ice buckets full of champagne and wine! There was sangria! Cocktail shakers! Everything was tasteful and swellegant.

As if that weren't disorienting enough, they were playing COLDPLAY!!!!! Coldplay isn't bowling music—it's yoga music! How am I supposed to hit even one pin while my ears are being tortured by Chris Martin's rancid mewlings?!? Ugh. We carefully selected the Port Authority lanes precisely because we didn't want the fancy. Bowlmore is too loud and filled with NYU students—we wanted old school.

Once our party had all arrived, we naturally wanted a lane. It sure looked like there were plenty, but we were informed they were for the leagues. Eventually a family of four split, so we took their lane, next to a wide expanse of open lanes. None of us are very good bowlers, so we chose deathmetal names to psych ourselves up. E was Annihilator 666, Kiki was Mass Destruction, Robyn bowled under Killer, Debra was Dreamslayer and I was DemonHeart.

Even though we were all pretty bad (with a couple exceptions), fueled on by nachos, candy and lite beer, we were having a good time as the rest of the lanes filled up. The guys next to us were wearing matching turqoise bowling shirts and one of them was needlepointing a squirrel. It was so cute! Until the grouchy bear of the group growled that we weren't following proper bowling protocol. Taking a bigger look-see, we realized that each league team was buffer and more well-groomed than the last. We'd stumbled upon gay league night! Who knew?!?!

Jim, the grouchy bear (who continued to be an uptight primadonna all night) was on the "PussyCat Balls." The team with the cute tops were called the "Endowed Husbands." You would've thought there'd be more of a festive, party atmosphere, but gay or straight, sports fans are sports fans—those boys were only interested in winning. Ah well. At least they started playing disco classics instead of crappy Coldplay. I believe we have the gay boys to thank for that at least.

Comments

[Ana]

You bowl! The next time you come to NO we'll take you to Rock-n-Bowl. They've got live bands after 10pm and crazy warped lanes for an added challenge!

[Brian of Brooklyn]

Baby Bowler! Best. Superhero. Movie. Evah.

If you can stand the N-train or D-train trek, Maple Lanes on the Borough Park-Bensonhurst border should provide the Brooklyn bowling kitsch you seek. I will warn that it is pretty isolated, no place to go out afterward for a beer, for instance. I live nearby, so it does well enough by me.