Saturday night I made my second visit to what could soon be my favorite hangout: BonAire Bowl. Being more acquainted with the atmosphere, I was able to fit in a little better this time. My first trip to the BonAire Bowl was an enlightening experience. I don't know what I was expecting, but I was surprised to find a full-fledged potluck going on when I walked in. People had crock pots and coolers, rugrats running around everywhere. Later on, as the picnic crowd began to thin out, the late-night folk began to wander in. They strutted in with their cases of Busch Lite held high, belt buckles flashing, jeans seams straining, skillfully working the Red Man and Marlboro Reds simultaneously. What a sight. It was then that I knew that I had to return to this place. So Saturday night I did. I got out my little Coleman cooler, put on my John Deere hat, and headed to the bowling alley. I was intimidated at first. Carrying a cooler into a bowling alley just seemed wrong. But after some coaxing from my friend, I gingerly stepped into the establishment. Then I assembled all the courage I could muster and marched in, right up to the counter. I half expected the manager to send me and my Yuengling back to the car, but all he said was, "What size shoes ya want?"