30 agosto 2011

2 bolos

Ok, do you know where the Obelisco is?

Despite the fact that I had walked past it at least twice a week for the last 4 months, I did not know where the Obelisco was.


No.


There were muffled discussions on the other end of the phone.


Ok, its across the Prado from the post office.


The post office I did know. So I walked downhill on Calle Colombia crossed the Prado and took a left. After a few blocks I found the fabled hotdog cart and squeezed past it through the doorway it partially occupied. I pressed on, down the concrete steps, past the scantily occupied plastic lunch tables, and there at the back I found the two hand-set bowling lanes and all six of them mid-game.


I was late and had to bowl five frames in a row. I realized quickly the lanes were warped, and as Justin put it, “these guys set pins like they’re on acid.” In the end, I was more than pleased with my score ( “chocho” as they would say in Bolivia—but not Spain or Brazil). I came in fourth of seven with 109 points, and was given a nod of approval.



A month later I found myself cruising down a Western North Carolina highway to the nearest bowling alley on the outskirts of Asheville. As my companion and I rounded a wide corner he told me the only time he’d ever scored a turkey was in Asheville when he was about 13. I responded that if I ever had such a fluke I’d be too stunned to finish the game.


And then, an hour later, on a lane in which my first gutterball of the evening hopped out of the gutter and knocked two pins down, I stood ready to throw the first ball of my tenth frame. The eighth and ninth had both been strikes. I sent the ball down the lane in a way consistent with my previous rolls. And nine pins toppled over. I shrugged my shoulders, turned my back and laughed slightly. Who was I to think I could ever master The Turkey? And then, my partner stood up with a funny look to his face. What? Look. Yes, miraculously, a pin started teetering well after the ball had left the end of the lane and eventually fell. Fortunately, just a few more rolls and I finished off the game. Yes, still in shock, but apparently no so shocked I couldn’t finish.


After several more pins falling at random times far from impact from the ball, and no less than 3 times the 10-pin formation coming down with only 9, I declared that these pin setters, as mechanical as they were, also must be on acid. Apparently that’s the only way I can even hope for mediocrity.