I took the kids bowling while Trevor was in Barcelona last fall. We usually go ice skating Sunday mornings. Not wanting to skate without our entrenador (coach) we opted for another relatively obscure sport.
Straight outta the 80s, this alley was completely empty on a Sunday morning. Score! The kids got their 6 pound balls, their little slide for rolling the ball, and the gutter blockers down. In search of an appropriate ball for myself, I picked a 12 pounder. To which the employee suggested I might want something lighter. Wha? No, I’m good.
Later I’d find out that my daughter was much sicker than I thought she was. She let me take her bowling turns while she curled up in the chair. Ok. I like bowling!
Ordered a pizza. Told it will take 45 minutes because they have to clean the oven. Uh. Alright. Employee tells me I handle the 12 pound ball well. I tell him my daughter weighs 37 pounds and I lift her up with a one arm swoop. Jeez buddy. Girls aren’t weak. I eat watermelons bigger than 12 pounds.
Slowly more bowlers arrived. A family settled in next to us. I scooted the slide over there way in case they wanted to use it too. Then I saw that they brought their own shoes and bowling balls. They are our doppelgängers of the bowling world! That’s how we look at the rink with our own ice skates.
This facility also has tiny mini golf, tiny bumper cars, and (I assume) tiny laser tag.