I lead a really busy life between putting in hours upon hours for The Ledger and djing every weekend, including some days during the week, so when I can get away and hang out with friends, I jump on the opportunity.
Of course, sometimes that time out and about results in pain, as was the case Friday night.
Travis Schafer and Ted Gesell, both of Goessel, as well as Dale Westbrook and Michael Renken, both of Canton, joined me in a trip to Wichita to go bowling at The Alley, which is located just off K-96 at 13th Street.
It is a cool place that even has an in-door go-cart track.
We got there late enough that we only had time to bowl, consume pizza and enjoy a few adult beverages. Next time I guess we’ll have to arrive prior to 11 p.m.
As we settled in at our lane, I noticed a sign hanging above the ball return that warned people of who slick the lane itself was and to not venture out onto it.
That made sense. After all, you’re not supposed to go out there any way. No big deal, right?
First, the entire floor was slick because Ted fell flat during his first frame of the evening.
He just kind did the splits and ended up on his back.
Most of us didn’t notice he even fell because we were busy putting our shoes on, ordering pizza, picking out our bowling balls and doing anything else but showing interest in how Ted was bowling.
It’s nothing personal. Ted is Ted, and that is all that really matters.
The evening then seemed to go pretty well.
Michael was bowling a great game as usual, Travis did well, Dale at least seemed to have fun, I pondered why I continue to give money to bowling alleys even though I might as well just sit and watch, and Ted sought revenge for us ignoring his first frame by going on a streak of almost five straight strikes.
As things were winding down, I was become more and more lackadaisical in my approach to the game. I was still trying, but I accepted the fact that I was clearly confused about how scoring in bowling works because I apparently was shooting for the low score like in golf.
Even so, during one frame, I went up and bowled the ball down the lane. As I did so, my foot stuck so I hopped a bit.
This little hop resulted in me coming dangerously close to the foul line, so in an effort not to set off the sensor for the automatic scoring system, even though it would still technically be a foul, I jumped over the line and landed on the lane.
Remember that sign is mentioned seeing earlier?
I did as well, but it was far too late.
My feet shot out from under me, and I went airborne.
I landed in the left gutter on my left elbow and left hip.
The pain was excruciating.
I stayed lying in the lane for a bit before crawling out.
As I did so, my hand set off the sensor and I got charged with a foul.
I looked up at my fellow bowlers only to see they all were jumping around laughing.
Shaking my head, I just stayed on the ground and hoped some the agony would cease.
Eventually one of them helped me up.
I’m sure people would assume I was drunk when this occurred, but sadly no. That is me when I’m sober.
I finished the game but it didn’t go well.
My arm, my back, my neck and even my chest hurt from the fall.
The cramped ride home, though eventful thanks to Travis’s antics that really can’t be mentioned here, didn’t help.
Getting up and playing golf with Travis and Ted the next morning did help limber things up.
Just as dancing Thursday night at the Wichita Wingnuts game would have gotten me ready for Friday’s bowling match had I actually listened to that sign I saw.
Speaking of the Wingnuts, I love watching that team play ball.
On Thursday, I went with Ted, Travis and brother Troy, and it was a good time.
The Wingnuts coach got tossed from the game before the first pitch, and although the Nuts didn’t win, it was a good game.
Troy, Travis and I got put on the big screen for dancing to the Macarena, and I got my Nuts hat signed by a pitching coach since we were sitting right on the field on the third base line.
Baseball is the best sport around, so anytime I get to watch it is a good time.