Today is Friday the 13th, as you’ve probably heard. The 13 part doesn’t mean much to me (plenty of actual bad shit out there without worrying about some silly superstition), but I like the Friday part. This is the day when I eschew public transportation and treat myself to driving in to work and arriving at the convention center garage in time for the Early Bird Special – in before 9 AM, and it’s “only” $5 for the whole day. Since the five bucks is only slightly more than the $3.60 cost of two rides on the old bus pass, I figure it doesn’t break the bank. Although when you figure in the cost of a couple of gallons of gas, it’s more like ten bucks. But I can usually sneak out a little early on Fridays, and it’ worth it to not be trapped here until the next bus comes (they don’t exactly run frequently out the boonies where I live; I’m thinking of moving to “Out of Service, NY.” I don’t know where it is, but there seems to be a bus heading there every five minutes).

The other exciting thing about the trip is that I get to walk through the convention center, which is currently hosting the United States Bowling Congress Open Championships – which runs from the end of March until July or something, and appears to be a very big deal.

I’m not really all that into the world of bowling (though back when I was a kid and there were only three teevee channels, I certainly watched the Pro Bowlers Tour on ABC – hosted by Chris Schenkel and Nelson Burton Jr. – with the likes of Earl Anthony, Mark Roth, Dick Weber, and Billy Hardwick), but just being around all those magnificent athletes (and their snazzy outfits)….

I feel kinda sorry for the participants, personally. It’s no Buffalo, but Syracuse is certainly a prime spot for folks to bowl (I mean, with eight months of winter, it’s a great excuse to get out and drink beer, as opposed to staying home and drinking beer). But it doesn’t really seem like much of a place for those who bowl to get away to. Not much of a prize for reaching the pinnacle of your sport, if you know what I mean.

“Congratulations, you’ve won an all-expenses paid trip to Syracuse, NY! In March! Just in time for pothole season!”

Yay?

Still, they have like 48 lanes set up, and while it costs money to go and watch (I assume), the whole place has that bowling alley smell to it (like, lane wax and sweat with a hint of stale beer) and walking through the lobby in the afternoon you can hear that unmistakable roar of the allies. Kinda like the Daytona 500, only, I dunno, woodier.

Brings back memories.

Back when I was in showbiz, there wasn’t a lot to do by the time the movies ended, so on the weekends a bunch of projectionists, theatre managers, ushers, usherettes, and candy boys and girls would converge on Flamingo Lanes to roll a few (balls, that is – we projectionists and managers would typically have rolled – and smoked – a few on the ride over) and have a few plastic cup-fulls of shitty beer. And if you got a strike when there was a lilac head pin, you got, um, something or other. A free game I think. I forget, but I remember it was fun.

Back in those days, we’d stay out all night and sleep all day. Unless we had to open for those godless matinees (afternoon Disney movies were a killer with a hangover). Who’d have thought I’d be getting up earlier nowadays than I made it home back then (no joke – finally decided to quit pretending I was sleeping and got up at 3:14 this morning)?

Then again, who’d have thought that Ronald Reagan would actually be looking good as President, compared to what we’ve got now?

Yep, sure doesn’t need to be Friday the 13th to be scary anymore.