Surfers Paradise, Gold Coast | Australia (by Duncan Rawlinson)
This looks like the cover of a 1950’s science fiction novel.
Combine #3 and #4, maybe?
(via Boston.com: Can Boston Be Safe for Bicycles?)
Well, it’s not beginner’s luck, exactly. I don’t know what to call it.
It happens whenever I go bowling or play a sport that requires muscle memory like golf, darts, or billiards. If I haven’t tried it for a while my reflexes always feel sharp and I play out of my mind for the first half hour or so. Despite my denials everyone thinks I’m some kind of sandbagging pool shark or bowling dork. After that initial warmup phase my normal bad habits quickly reassert themselves and I start miscuing easy shots, driving golf balls deep into the swamp, and completely missing the dart board as my skills evaporate. It never fails.
I’ve only found a way to use this habit of athletic false advertising to my advantage once. When I was thirteen I tried out for the local Babe Ruth baseball league and when it was my turn to hit I blasted a dozen balls into the outfield. The manager of the best team was impressed enough to pick me, but he could only curse and watch helplessly during the season as I struggled to drive anything out of the infield and posted a blistering .162 batting average.
I never know what to expect when this happens in social situations. I once attended a singles meetup at a pool hall in downtown Boston where the goal was presumably to meet people. After circling the crowd and failing to start a conversation for an hour I found two women and a man who needed a fourth person at their table so I joined them. When my turn came up their expressions quickly slid from smiles to rolling eyes to frowns as I started running the table. I couldn’t help it. As the balls disappeared I began attempting ridiculously difficult shots in the hopes of missing one of them, but for the first ten minutes I could do no wrong. Cross-the-table prayers, three ball combinations, blind multiple bank shots, shooting left-handed… every shot went in. After a few turns the game ended and one by one my new acquaintances all found reasons to mingle somewhere else.
Last night’s experience at a meetup in a bowling alley was better. The main difference is that in bowling I can’t prevent other people from playing when I’m doing well. If anything they get to take their turns faster. I didn’t make a big deal about my usual run of good luck in the beginning. When a few people looked up at the monitor near the end of the game and noticed my score they gave me some good-natured ribbing. But they didn’t leave.
I ended up randomly breaking 200 for the first time since high school. For all I know that might have been my best score ever. And I don’t even think I bowled particularly well. My second game was much lower, naturally.
Tumblr adds different phrases when a new user fills out the age field.
I love the shade of green that most trees wear in the spring. (at Kendall Square Fountain)
I will not overshare and turn this blog into a record of my saddest thoughts. Admitting that I’m struggling with them is enough.
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