bowling and miniature golf

I think the two things that should always be banned from group dates should be quite obvious to anyone who's ever been on one: bowling, and miniature golfing.

Who is good at either of these all-American (neither are, are they?) pastimes? Okay, maybe there are a select few. But those few (who either joined a bowling league, golf for real, or who just go on too many first dates) generally just serve to embarrass the rest of us. I guess it's good for learning not to take yourself too seriously, but I don't usually have to ask for that lesson...

First: bowling. You spend most of your time watching the next guy's back. You can't even wear your own shoes (although, admittedly, the bowling shoe isn't a bad look...did you bring those laces from home, buddy?), and if by chance you aren't watching the next guy's back, you generally get good and involved in a great conversation just as it's time for your turn. You have time to get into that conversation, too, because I've hardly ever seen this one done with less than six people. Awesome. I love the 25-cent games, too, except they don't come without the shoe rental, which is about sixteen times 25-cents. At least the food is usually cheap.

I do have a bowling dream, however. For this, I would actually cough up the five bucks myself to participate, too, instead of watching the poor guy cover me and thinking, "Hey, this was your idea." I would love to try bowling and, before starting the game, get the attendants to put the bumpers in. Then we'd compete for golf scores - with the foolproofs in, who STILL can't hit any pins? (This could get old fast, however, depending on how many ways there are to avoid those bumpers...I wouldn't know, I've never been able to get anyone to try this one with me.) Interestingly enough, the unique scoring system leads into our second topic...

Miniature golfing. It takes a long time and is generally known as a cold-weather sport, but only if you're wanting to use the outdoor course with the bigger windmill so you can hear the freeway cars laughing at your par 90 (that's what it was, wasn't it?). Of course, no one ever remembers it's a cold-weather sport until they're on the course, at which point it's too late to go home and dig out the snowpants. But you can get Dip 'n' Dots inside!

I used to be fascinated with those buildings until I realized that if you went behind those locked doors on the equipment, it would not be interesting and I could probably get in trouble for being there. Last time I went miniature golfing, we were, however, fascinated with the neatly-placed rocks right in front of where we were trying to put the ball. Man, even in real golf courses they get those out. Maybe they just didn't think about it because you don't have to mow Astro-Turf.

But it looks like everything in this world has something redeemable about it. Last week I got a call from a friend asking if I'd like to go miniature golfing with he and his apartment.

Miniature golfing, huh? Great idea. But, hey, they're fun guys...how bad could it be?

True to form, it was cold. (I remembered this time, though, and wore two jackets. Apparently the other girl did, too, because she had gloves.) And, true to form, we played outside. (It was less crowded. Weird.)

Freeway cars? Check. Par 90? Check. (Mine was the Helen Keller ball, because when I talked it wouldn't listen and when I pointed and signed it obviously couldn't see. Quite the language barrier. Needless to say, I won with the highest score.) Even the rocks were snugly in place.

However...it was a blast. How weird is that, I know. Miniature golfing. I guess I've seen it all, now...a group of guys who, on a Friday night, say, "I really want to go miniature golfing. Let's see if anyone wants to come," instead of a group of guys who, on a Friday night, have dates, and say, "Well...I guess there's always miniature golfing."

We joked around and played, made fun of each other and quoted stuff the whole time. (And of course discussed the latest Irish drinking music on the market...what good get-together is complete without that?) On the way home we blasted All-American Rejects and talked about the guy we'd seen leaning out of his passenger-seat window blowing a trumpet at other cars stopped at the same light.

I guess the secret is the same as the secret to anything....but if I told you, I'd have to kill you.