The Day I Bowled a 375

We celebrated my birthday this weekend. As her gift to me, Sara proved that she is a true Rothman by arranging not one, not two, but three birthday surprises.

(See the complete photo set here.)

Friday: The Almost-Suprise

Friday was spent at home with some wonderful special friends. Their arrival was supposed to be a surprise, but alas, decades of paranoia-inducing surprise parties by my mother have made me a formidable person to catch off guard.

Still, Sara did well; I didn’t figure out that anyone was coming over until 20 minutes before they arrived. Good thing, too; I would’ve been in my underwear if I thought we were dining alone.

Saturday: The Day I Bowled a 375

Our friends had slept over, and we woke up and had a lovely breakfast at one of my favorite local restaurants–Meil’s, in Stockton. After that, I thought the rest of the day was mine to plan as I wished, but Sara smirkingly informed me that we were going “out” in the evening, and that I should be ready to leave by 5. All I could get out of her was that we were heading into the city.

Five o’clock came, and we headed out. Sara instructed me to drive into the city, and park at Port Authority, our usual parking spot. She said that once we were there, she would give me the next instructions. At that point, sleuth that I am, I figured out that we must be going to a show. It all made sense: (a) My mother is notorious for surprising people with show tickets, (b) we were heading to the theater district and (c) it was just about the right time for a pre-theater dinner.

We parked. We got into the skeevy Port Authority (PA) elevator. Sara pressed the button for “2.”

WHAT?

Now, you must understand something about PA: The parking garage is on floor 5. The bus gates and bathrooms are on 4th floor. And the exit to the street and subway is on the 1st floor. The elevators don’t even stop t the 3rd floor. And the 2nd floor? Well, nothing’s on the 2nd floor, right? I mean, if there were something there, surely I would have been there at some point in my life? Or at least known what it was!

I blinked my eyes; rubbed them, too. But she had really pressed “2.”

Now, this is only my personal theory, but between you and me, I think Sara actually enjoyed these next few minutes of my bewilderment.

The elevator stopped at 2, and we exited into a long corridor, empty but for two female police officers chatting down at one end of it. We walked down the corridor to the doors at the end, and exited into a large concourse. Where the hell was she taking me? PA is not exactly known for its party spots.

Round one corner, then another. And finally, I saw it. Way down at the end of the hallway we had turned into. “Leisure Time Bowling.” And I knew: this was it.

My suspicion was confirmed when I saw my cousin Keren standing outside the entrance, talking on her cellphone. Turns out we were a few minutes early, and Keren (surprise novice that she is) thought it would be safe to stand near the entrance. The look on her face when she saw me and thought that she’d blown the surprise was priceless.

We had super fun bowling. I got to shock people with my strike-tossing prowess. One person was not shocked: my mother. She just kept proudly exclaiming that her son the genius was a magnificent bowler, and when someone said that I was on pace to hit a score of 220, she replied that I would surely get at least a 375.

By the way, the pizza they served–at this bowling alley which nobody even knew existed, in the middle of a bus terminal–was excellent. Everybody raved about it. Port Authority: The Pizza Capital of Bus Terminals.

Sunday: Revenge of [Off] Broadway

We spent Saturday night in Brooklyn. On Sunday, my mother and Sara told me to wear comfortable shoes; we were going out. But where were we going this time? And with whom? It must be a hike, I concluded. Either a foraging hike through central park (which is fun, by the way) or a walk through Green-Wood Cemetery, or something else along those lines. In any event, they insisted that nobody else was involved in today’s surprise; after all, they argued, we’d all just gotten together the night before.

We got to midtown, and parked. We decided to sit for a quick drink at a restaurant we passed–apparently, we were early for whatever it was we were going to do. I happened to sit facing the window, and while we waited for our drinks to arrive, who do I see walking down the street outside? Keren. Yes, the same Keren who “ruined” yesterday’s surprise. Oops, she did it again. She walked in and we all had a good laugh over it.

The upshot of Sunday’s surprise was that we all headed to see Jewtopia. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good for lots of good laughs and we all had a great time. (It was 193 times better than Modern Orthodox, another Jewish-themed play we saw a few months ago.)

My birthday trifecta concluded with a good dinner at a local Thai place.

Before we all said our good-byes, I made the appropriate threats to my mother and my wife about their next birthdays, and the lengths to which I’ll go to avenge this weekend. The surprise party arms race continues….