Leisure Time Bowl

Words aren't quite adequate to describe the forlorn solitude stepping onto the pattern carpet instills in even the most extroverted souls. When we arrived, the first of the 30 lanes were taken up by media types (for a full accounting of the night go to Gawker's coverage), the fluorescent light casting a deathly pallor over their already pale faces. Instead of music, a dead-eyed trivia meister (as I'm sure he would call himself) goaded the assembled bowlers to answer questions no once cared about. Every answer, it seemed, was Shania Twain.