On Wednesday nights in the summer, I bowl in a trio league. I typically head to the alley bar about an hour before league starts simply because it doesn’t pay for me to me to make the hour commute home and back after work and there’s no place else I really want to kill time in between. The bartender grabs a glass and starts on my Grey Goose and tonic as soon as I walk in the door, and I settle into a game of Candy Crush or a book on my Kindle until my teammates show up. It’s a relaxing way to unwind after work. Until last night, the only person I’ve talked to during this unwind time is the bartender, and even that conversation typically dries up after brief pleasantries are exchanged. There’s a ball game on tv and aside from a few folks on the other end of the bar, it’s usually dead. Who wants to sit in a bowling alley bar on a weeknight in summer? Continue reading
Half Past Thirty 