When my work team was in Salem for a wine event, we decided we would go bowling together. [For their sake, let's just call them B, M, and the Boss. B is the youngest of our group and probably the most wine snobbish; M is the most staid one, with wife, kids, nanny, mortgage, the works; The Boss is, well, the Boss. Also he used to sell me wine and is just sincerely one cool guy – yeah, I am a big suckup, can you tell I just gave him the url for this site? There is also A, the other girl on my team who couldn't go to Oregon because of personal issues.] We had talked about going bowling together several times before but it never worked out. In Oregon we were all hanging out together with not much else to do but drink. We do that for work, so who wants to do that outside of work? (ahHAHAHhahahahahaHAHAHa, ahem. No, you can't have my job.)
The bowling alley was about 5 miles from the hotel we stayed in and since no one could give us very good directions we took a cab there. The driver was a complete freakass. He went through alleys and made serious suggestions about taking us to Bingo. We got there unscathed and then B dropped the bomb. "I think we should make this a drinking game, or at the very least, if someone bowls under a 69, he has to drop trou."
Um, hello? I was the ONLY GIRL and I have the fattest ass of the group, too. Everyone else readily agreed and I had no choice. My only saving grace was that in the 7th grade I was in a Saturday bowling league, so I have a general idea of how the game works. Still, I was a little nervous. Turns out I had nothing to worry about. Both B and M are simply the two shittiest bowlers I have EVER seen. I get the feeling they were patronising us, though. The Boss did add an adendum to the bet, in that we only had to see underdrawers and not actual skin.
There weren't many people in the bowling alley when we were playing, although we had to finish up by 11pm (stupid midnight bowling). Somehow we managed to draw the attention of the management who kept on coming up to us and asking if we were ok, or if we needed something. I think they were trying to find us doing something worthy of kicking us out. Seemed odd, we weren't loaded out of our minds, we weren't THAT obnoxious, we certainly weren't rude, I didn't know what to make of it.
After the first game B was well under 69 and he went to show us his talent, so to speak and we postponed because we thought with all the extra attention that we might get tossed out. (By the way, I bowled a 122 or something like that! yay me!) The second game I was starting to tire out and get grumpy so I only bowled somewhere in the high 80s. The Boss kicked serious ass that time and I think it was due to the pointers I gave him. That will teach me. M was the major league underdog this time, I think his score was somewhere in the low 40s.
We took another taxi back to the hotel and decided to have one last drink at the bar across the street. At that point I figured the whole "drop trou" thing was merely a bit of fun and would never actually come true. We ended up at the bar talking for about 2 hours and at one point M left the table to go to the bathroom. As he gets back to the table his pants are undone and he stands in front of us and pulls his pants down a bit and shows us his boxers, with pants about half down, from the front.
"That's not good enough," I sais, "We didn't get to see your behind!" I merely meant we didn't get to see his flannel boxer covered ass. He then turns around, leans over, and drops his unders. I picked that unfortunate moment to lean over to grab my purse that fell to the floor and almost got a full-on face full o'ass. HOLY SHIT! I didn't think he would take me literally.
About 90 seconds after mister exhibitionist finished his show the bartender came up to the table. We all held our breath. "Sorry kids, last call," she said.
Whew! I thought we were busted for sure. Since it was 1:30a and we started that morning at well before 5am we got the tab and headed out. We stood on the sidewalk across from our hotel waiting for this car to pass before walking across. Suddenly B starts running across the street, with his pants and underwear around his knees. The pants make him run kinda like a monkey across the street and I might be mistaken, but it seemed I saw his shawdowy bits flopping around a little bit.
"I've been thinking about doing that for the last hour!" B yelled at us from across the street as he pulled his pants up. Needless to say, it was a super-fantastic evening.
Thank god I didn't lose, though. I couldn't have even competed, theatrically.
Posted by kerewin at June 20, 2005 10:11 PM