We might move ...

Parents who buy their child a drum set or another musical instrument often live to regret it as their quiet life is suddenly filled with noise.  If the child can play, great, but if he can’t, the noise of the instrument can rapidly become ear torture.

I made a mistake too.  I bought my son a bowling ball for his birthday (a C-(System) ulti-max) and if I had known then what I know now … I might have thought twice before making that purchase.

While playing with his old bowling ball, we were more or less competitive equals.  Sure he won more games than I did, but every now and then I managed to snatch one or two games from him.

With the new bowling ball, that equality has gone out the window.  Today he scored: 190 – 224 – 222 – 214 – 189 - 231.  There’s no way I can compete with that.

However, that’s not all.  Before he would make a couple of strikes per game, but the majority of a ten-pin bowling game would be made up of two tries, often resulting in a spare.  This would give me the chance to sit down for a moment, catch my breath and rest my weary legs.

Not anymore.  With this new ball, Dieter made strike after strike after strike, giving me no rest whatsoever.  I would sit down, he would make a strike and hup, it would be my turn again.  In the end I didn’t even bother sitting down anymore.

We have definitely broken our record in bowling alley attendance this week.

It started on Tuesday (Dieter’s birthday) when we went to pick up the bowling ball.  After drilling we wanted to play a few games, but with two leagues playing there were no lanes available.

So we went home and returned to the bowling alley two hours later when the league would have finished.  That was two visits in one day.

On Friday we had league bowling.

Today, Saturday, we went practising. 

Tomorrow friends are picking us up for some friendly competition.

By my count that is five bowling alley visits in one week.  We might as well move and go and live there. 

To bowl or not to bowl ...

It would appear that if I’m not moaning about one air-conditioner, I’m moaning about another.

Today being Sunday, we set off for All Star Bowl at 11:30 as we do every Sunday.

The moment I walked in I could feel that the air-conditioner was not on. It has been like that in the past and it absolutely infuriates me.

The staff has to work and run around in the alley and moans that the environment is too hot for them, but it is even worse for the bowlers.

You try chucking a 14 pound (6.3 kg) ball down a 62 feet (19 meters) lane a couple of times, see how you feel.

Anyway, since the side door was open and we had come all the way, we decided to have a couple of games.

Halfway in the first game I saw Luba, one of the daughters of the owner of the alley, walking in and switch on the air-conditioner.

See this really ticks me off. When Luba, or one of the other members of the family are in the bowling alley, the air-conditioner gets switched on. When it’s just the staff and the bowlers, they have to cope with the heat. Why can’t the A/C be on all the time?

After three games we had to give up. Even with A/C it was too hot. Too bad really because we started off really good: 175 for Dieter, 172 for me.

And the heat isn’t the only problem, the lanes are far from perfect. Sometimes the lanes are bone dry, sometimes they are drenched in oil. As for the machines ... sometimes a ball comes back, sometimes he doesn’t.

In an attempt to fix some of the problems, management hired ‘experts’ to come and have a look at things. The machine of lane 1 was taken apart and the bits and pieces were all over the lane. It was quite funny as it looked like they were having a sale.
Not so funny was seeing the experts at work ...





One guy was looking at the bits and pieces like he didn't have a clue how to put things back together again. The other walked up and down the lane, looking at things, but didn't pick anything up. Three weeks the lane was like that.

Were they waiting for a part or were they waiting for their fairy godmother to wave her wand and say "Bibbedi babbedi boo," so everything would magically fly into place.

This is what happens when people, who are not bowlers themselves run a bowling alley ... it’s a slippery slope and the only way is down.

Maybe it’s time to look for another bowling alley.