Randomly Liz suggests a grand plan—there is a 24-hour bowling lane about 20 mins away. The idea kinna weirded me out. Seriously, who goes bowling at 5 am? We do.
The three of us drove down this street somewhere in Chicago looking for a flashing sign that Liz would recognize from the website. Is that it? Nope, a church. That? No, auto insurance. Uhn-uh. A carwash. Finally, Wavelength, the “We never close” 40 lanes of bowling. We got there around 5:30 am. Mind you, that I’m usually in bed by 12, even on weekends, so this is huge for me. The place seemed ok, despite the whore that was at the door. We ended up waiting around for half an hour for the rate per game to decrease, saving each of us $4. We’re all cheapskates…
Not only was this place open 24 hours, but they also gave you free socks with your shoe rental. Now I know. What a deal.
So there I was. Strike. Strike. Strike? STRIKE! 4 in a row! I don’t think I’ve ever even gotten 4 strikes in my life, let alone in the same game, let alone in a row. What was wrong with me? Was I feeling sick? Nope, just tired. Why can’t I do that when I go out with Andy and the guys? About half way through the game the score-board started putting weird names up for each of us. Things like, “Sassy Lady,” “It wasn’t me,” and something about “Butts.” Turned out to be one of the 24-hour employees screwing with us. I guess they’ve got nothing better to do then hit on 3 hot chicks out at 6am. Of course I won the game. I got like a 160-something and we even took a picture to commerate. I was sleeping in the picture…
Back in the car, the sun was wide awake, and we started our way back across town to the apartment. We passed a lot of interesting signs on the way. My favorite–which I regret to inform you that I don’t have a picture of—was a hot dog place called, “Between Buns.” The sign was a huge hotdog on a stick. O-M-G.
At a stoplight, some guy on his cell phone pulled up next to us and asked where we were going. He was too old and too tan. And what in the world was he doing trying to hit pick up teenage girls at 7am on a Sunday morning? Ashley would say, “Its LENT, Sir. IT IS LENT!” Eww.
Made it back to 1501 and the 3 of us crashed in Liz’s bed. We played truth or dare until I fell asleep. (what are we, 5?)
After about 2 hours of sleep Ash and I were back on the road again. Made it out of there before the church crowd made traffic difficult. Pretzels for breakfast. Back to Champaign around 11. Stats homework, Palm Sunday mass, sleep.
The conclusion: The reason none of us have any serious commitments to a significant other—we can’t find anyone as cool as our friends.