When Heidi and I pushed our way through the plate-glass doors into the black-lit gloom of the bowling center this afternoon, the place seemed deserted. Once our eyes adjusted to the light cast by the enormous TV screens playing a combination of music videos and football games at the end of each darkened lane, we saw just one other couple sitting at a table, eating chicken wings.
It took a little while for anyone to emerge from the back and check us in; so long in fact, that had I not been committed to testing out my new ball, I would have been tempted to leave. Eventually, a personable man of perhaps 30 waved to us and made his way behind the counter. "What brings you in today?" he asked, ignoring the obvious.
"Believe it or not, we're here to bowl," I answered, stating the obvious.
He laughed and looked around the cavernous, nearly empty building. "Well, thanks for renting out the whole place!" he said.
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