At the local bowling alley, my friends are trying to find a pair of shoes that fit reasonably, a ball without gratuitously large finger holes, and, quite frankly, their bearings in what is a foreign spot to them.
Unlike them, I came prepared.
I haul up my bowling bag I brought along, packed with two custom bowling balls, a pair of shoes with interchangeable bottoms, a rosin bag, a towel, and a glove, among other small commodities.
