It was my friend Tara’s birthday, so Tara, Keira, Brianna and I all went out to lunch and then bowling. Since all of our combined skills range from “awful” to “likely to cause injury,” we all just derped around a little bit. For example, we all gave each other what we considered hilarious names for the screen showing our scores. I, for instance, was Joey Richter. Tara was Darren Criss. Keira wanted to be called Trudy, and Brianna was “Girl.” (Parks and Recreation reference alert!) Whenever one of us got the occasional strike, we brought the entire bowling alley to a standstill because we were so excited because it was just THAT occasional.
First we played next to these old guys that were extremely serious about their bowling. When they left, this pair of teenage guys came in and bowled like eight strikes in a row, making our gutter balls and granny shots look even derpier by comparison. Halfway through, Keira left at the same time Allison arrived and took the name Trudy. At one point, our machine that spits out the balls malfunctioned; bowling balls started bursting out and flying all over the place, and since we were sharing that machine with the guys, all of us were running around trying to grab the balls rolling around on the ground. After four games, we finally decided we’d done enough damage, and we gathered up our shoes and went up to the counter.
“Lane 23?” said the guy. “Name, please.”
“Elodie?” I said, confused, because I hadn’t given my name; then I made the connection. “Oh. Right, uh… Joey…”
“Rich-ter?” he said, pronouncing it like “rich” instead of “rick,” to which I nodded solemnly.
“Darren Criss,” Tara piped up, snickering.
“Trudy,” said Allison.
“Girl,” said Brianna.
Then we paid and ran out into the parking lot.