French Bowling Alleys

This entry was written sometime after midnight, so please forgive the incoherentness of it all. (I'm not even sure if incoherentness is a word...if it isn't, dibs on creating it.)

I just got back from bowling with my bball team. An interesting experience, let me tell you...this is my second time bowling with the team and I must say that I had more fun this time. Maybe because I knew everybody a bit better. I suck at bowling...completely and utterly. I didn't get dead last, but pretty close. Anyways, back to the beginning of the story. We all met at 9:30 pm outside of my apartment. If I've said it once, I've said it a million times...these French people start their evenings too late! Of course, when you arrive, you must greet everyone, so you go around kissing everyone you see. Its better if you get there early because you have less people to search out and kiss...the people who get there after you are the ones who have to hunt everyone down and kiss them all. But Holy Cow! The bigger the group gets, the more kissing and greeting until its like a mass orgy of kissing all around you. You're kissing people you don't know and greeting them like you've known them all your life. I rode with Fabrice, his wife, Roselyne, and Gladys. I really get along very well with Roselyne and Gladys. Now, if memory serves me well, I don't really remember alcoholic beverages being served at bowling alleys in the states. Maybe beer, but I don't ever recall them bringing alcohol right to your lane so that you can consume it as you bowl, as in France. So, it didn't take long for our party to become quite boisterous and intoxicated. I just had a limonade (which was nothing like lemonade...I think it may have been something like sprite), while everyone else had beer and God knows what else. However, this increased intoxication boded well for my bowling game. They played worse and worse as the alcohol set in, making me look better and better. Thierry is already a loud guy, but after a few drinks, he is twice what he is normally. He kept asking me how to say things in English, would run over to the guys, try to repeat it, and butcher it completely. It was kind of fun to try to teach drunk french guys how to pronounce my name correctly. All the french people put the accent on the second syllable, making my name sound something like lau-REN. I tried to get them to put the stress on the first syllable, LAU-ren. Also, American R's are hard for French people to pronounce. Anyhoo, I have a feeling that from now on, I will get many butchered mispronunciations of my name. While at the bowling alley, I saw one of the gym teachers, Marc. The bowling alley is a happening place to be in our tiny town. Actually, my town has no bowling alley...we had to drive to the island to find one. Anyways, Marc was consuming vast amounts of alcohol and appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. It was a little weird to see the profs outside of a school setting. When we had all finished ( I finished third to last), we all trooped outside for good-byes. Once again, we entered into the mass orgy of alcoholic kisses goodbye. Everyone was laughing hysterically, and since laughter is contagious, so was I. I was very thankful that Fabrice's wife had appointed herself designated driver so that we could all get home safely, because Fabrice was just a tad bit too intoxicated to take the wheel. Anyhoo, its now 1:30 am and I am not tired in the least having had a cappucino and some coca cola earlier today...not to mention I just scarfed some chips and wannabe guacamole sauce (I'm not really sure what guacamole sauce is, but the French think they are selling Mexican food...I'm gonna let them think that, because its better than nothing). Until we meet again!