Weird things start happening in Claremont any time it rains. Everyone drives really slowly, dogs start wearing sweaters, classes mysteriously function at about half their normal capacity, and there’s more North Face on campus than you could possibly shake a stick at.

We students are a pathetic bunch during downpours. We bitch, moan, whine, and gripe when the weather is anything but 70 degrees and sunny. Some of us, though, see the rain as an opportunity. Those amongst us who are nerds consider rainfall a great excuse to catch up, or get ahead, on schoolwork.

For those of us who are spoiled bastards, rain gives us time to watch DVDs or play fancy video games. Also, rain eliminates the guilt that can accompany daytime drinking for those of us who are drunks. There’s nothing wrong with vodka at three in the afternoon as long as it’s dark outside.

The other day, some friends and I were sitting around wondering how we were going to occupy our wet evening. The conversation went a little something like this:

Friend #1: Ass. I hate it when it rains. And I hate the cold. I don’t pay thirty grand a year for my nipples to poke through my shirts.

Friend #2: Let’s go lift weights and get all big and stuff so we can get chicks. Aarrgh!!!

Me: Hey everybody! Let’s go bowling, huh?!?

Friend #3:Kyle, my friend, I think you’ve hit the nail right on the nose.

Despite Friend 3’s horrendously mixed metaphor, we had ourselves a plan. We piled into a car and set our sights on the Chaparral Lanes Bowling Center in beautiful San Dimas. There are those who’ll argue that other bowling alleys are closer, or even better than our choice. Some might even argue that the Chaparral Lanes Bowling Center is the worst place in the Inland Empire to throw rocks, thanks to its decrepit lanes and surly employees. All this might be true. However, the Chaparral Lanes Bowling Center is the only alley in town to offer two free games on Monday and Tuesday evenings to Roger Caron’s PE bowling class. Since we are all broke and in the class, the choice was really a no brainer (which is convenient, seeing how Friend #2 isn’t so bright).

A couple miles of driving and we were greeted by the adorable village that is La Verne. Its quaint boutiques and traditional ice-cream parlors not only gave us a sorely needed slice of Americana, but it reminded us of our own Claremont Village. It was good to feel at home, but we pushed on.

Not too far down the road, we approached yet another charming burg. San Dimas follows the same equation as Claremont and La Verne, except they go the extra step with rustic wooden fences bordering the streets. I’m a big Claremont fan, but I’ve got to give it up to our neighbors in San Dimas. All those storefront awnings!

After 6.9 miles of smooth Bonita Avenue sailing, we arrived at the Chaparral Lanes Bowling Center. We celebrated with high-fives and hugs, and each thanked our respective deities that we had made it safely. On our way into the alley we noticed that the parking lot was relatively full, but we didn’t let that get us down. We were flying high on a cloud of pre-bowl fervor.

At the Chaparral Lanes Bowling Center counter, a squat, gnome of a woman gave us the bad news.

Awful woman: Grrrrr. I’ve got a full house.

Friend #1: Well, can we wait?

Awful woman: You could.

Friend #2: How long do you think it would be?

Awful woman: Hours. Days. How would I know? I got leagues to deal with.

Me: Well, what time would be good for us to come on Mondays or Tuesdays.

Awful woman: Four. Dammit, I hate everybody. Go to hell.

The employees of the Chaparral Lanes Bowling Center are some of the meanest, surliest people on God’s green earth. For the sake of our story, however, that’s beside the point. The point is that we didn’t get to bowl a single frame because our free bowling nights coincidentally conflicts with Chaparral Lanes Bowling Center’s League Nights. It smelled fishy to us, and it continued to smell fishy all 6.9 miles home. In fact, it smelled so damn fishy that we started to think that maybe the Chaparral Lanes Bowling Center’s manager was aware of the conflict when he chose the days for our free games.

Our plan was to initiate an extensive letter writing campaign upon our arrival back at school. Boy, we were really going to get those bastards at the Chaparral Lanes Bowling Center. Then we got absorbed in our work, and our video games, and our vodka. As a result our ambitions faded into obscurity and the Chaparral Lanes Bowling Center escaped our wrath.

The moral of this story is clear: don’t ever, ever-ever-ever go to the Chaparral Lanes Bowling Center in beautiful San Dimas. It is a horrible place run by horrible people who hate, maybe even eat, little children and puppies.