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Oh, but why leave the lanes? There's a full restaurant with food devised by a Los Angeles catering company that specializes in movie premieres. "Everything in Chinatown is making me very, very happy. "I like the movie theaters, too," Conner says. She went home to the Chicago area over Thanksgiving and lamented to her family how there was no bowling in Washington. Most of the people in her office have come here to bowl Friday night, the first time they could all agree on a place to socialize. "I've been waiting for a bowling alley the entire time I've lived here," says Carolyn Conner, 24, who works for an education nonprofit. She says it's an odd gig because in her club jobs she is the main attraction, whereas at Lucky Strike she's just one of the offerings. You spot the DJ in her command central before you spy the lanes themselves, and on Friday and Saturday nights she is Crystal "Deejay Mishalay" Gibson. Step inside and the rattle of pins is like a low-fi rhythm section overwhelmed by the high-volume soundscape of the music - indie, alty, dancey offerings meant to appeal to a slightly older crowd than the fare in college kid clubs. If you show up with your baseball cap turned backward, the fashion-forward hosts and hostesses posted up front will ask you to turn it around.
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The dress code posted outside the door has 13 noes, including "no sports jerseys" (sorry, Caps fans) and "no exposed intimate apparel" (drat).
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It's what some in the industry call "boutique bowling" - bowling gone uptown, bowling that moved away from home, got an expensive education, shed its accent, learned how to dress and order fancy food, and now is just a little bit ashamed of its roots. In fact, Lucky Strike is nothing like what you remember.
finally catching up to its burbs.īut they don't have bowling like this in Arlington. Someone in the passing rush blurted out a depressing verdict, meant to be chipper: "It's almost like you're in Arlington!"Īh yes, surprising D.C. The once gaudy-by-comparison Chinatown arch looks unexpectedly plain. There was a tone of amazement in the conversations floating around the complex - a sense of Where are we, Toto? What little China was left in Chinatown has all but vanished, along with the last of the empty lots and abandoned buildings. You've just escaped the outside sidewalk river of Capitals fans heading next door to MCI Center, shoppers going to be seen in the blazing two-story fishbowl of Urban Outfitters, diners angling across the street toward chain-restaurant row. Below you see long lines for "Syriana" and "Chronicles of Narnia." Clyde's is packed with holiday office partiers. You hear it when you step off the escalator Friday night onto the mezzanine of the entertainment complex's vast Greek-columned atrium - that slapstick soundtrack of things falling apart emanating from Lucky Strike, while all around are signs that things are coming together. That sonic flashback hits you before you're even inside Lucky Strike Lanes, the city's first commercial bowling alley in forever, which just opened downtown at Gallery Place. The tumble of tenpins always seemed like an aural exaggeration - a cartoon disaster or radio sound effect. The smells: varnish and cigarette smoke.īest of all, the sounds: The all-fall-down clatter of exploding formations of pins. The beer - cheap and watery, by the pitcher. The balls - three-holed, finger-stretching, too-heavy.
The shoes - too tight, thin-soled, three-toned (trendoids brought them back a few years ago, minus the bowling). In the corporate neon daylight of Seventh Street NW at night - amid the welter of pubbers, clubbers, field-tripping suburbers and howling sports fans - there is this strange new (and retro) evidence of renaissance in Washington: You can go bowling again.Ĭue scraps of tactile memory - stirrings from high school, or Wednesday nights after work, back home in a colder state, before you migrated to the capital to be somebody, maybe.
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