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SUNDAY, 16 APRIL, 2000, PHILADELPHIA |
The perfect blend of rock n’ roll and white trash. Wow. Glowbowling. I understand there is currently an epidemic of this breaking out around the country. I’ve heard about it, and being the diligent reporter that I am, I thought I’d “give it a whirl!” So I summoned a bunch of amenable, rock-n-roll-white-trash freaks and made the trek to the Delaware border last night to go GLOWBOWLING! That’s where at around midnight they put out the awful flourescent lights, turn on the black lights, and ya grab a gayly coloured bowling ball and go to it! I squoze into my slinky little velvet mirror shirt (of the Walk of Shame fame) and summoned every bit of The Castro that I could recall as I flounced about, scaring the glum suburban teenagers to the best of my ability. For what is GLOWBOWLING! without a certain amount of speculation surrounding those crazy city-folk who drive 40 minutes in the rain to listen to top 40 music blaring throughout a darkened bowling alley amongst 17 year olds with really bad haircuts? A hoot. A riot. The living end. Too much. A scream. That’s what it was. Complete with Olympic-style dismounts, profound and perverse poses, and on the (occasional) gutter ball, a nice, hearty, terrified… GLOWBOWLING! GLOWBOWLING! 
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