06-26-11
Sometimes the best activities are unplanned.
My cousin Lexie bussed over from Washington, DC to visit me for the weekend, and on our way through Central Park to wait in line for free tickets for the evening’s Shakespeare in the Park performance, a guy handed us a flyer advertising “free food and lawn bowling” that afternoon. He told us to turn right after the amphitheater and look for a lot of people wearing white – we couldn’t miss it.
We reached the line for Shakespeare in the Park at about noon, knowing they started handing out tickets at 1:00 for the evening’s 8pm performance. I had noticed on the website that Shakespeare in the Park “neither suggests nor condones lining up before the park opens at 6am,” so I wondered vaguely if we were silly to expect to get tickets so late in the day.
As we approached the head of the line, we realized how the serious Shakespeare in the Park fans get it done. There were several couples lounging on blankets, and one was even asleep on an air mattress. Multiple groups had tables and folding chairs with picnic meals, drinks, and games of Scrabble or cards. Further down the line, the less-prepared theatergoers were situated less comfortably, standing or sitting on the pavement, entertaining themselves with iPhones and conversation. Lexie and I joined this second group at the end of the line (which was perhaps ¼ mile long) halfway between a trash can and some benches, directly on top of a sewer grate and at the edge of some shade.
We pretended we were waiting in line at Disney Land; we listened to a saxophone-playing busker who worked his way slowly down the line, playing a song and then moving 20 feet and playing another. We giggled at the irony of his choice of location (he did realize, didn’t he, that he was asking for tips from a line full of freeloaders willing to waste the better part of a day standing in line for free theatre tickets?). We accepted flyers for two alternate free Shakespeare performances by other local groups that we could attend if we were unable to get tickets for Shakespeare in the Park. And finally, near 1:00 a security guard welcomed us to “Shakespeare in the Park: THE LINE,” informed us that there were 1800 seats in the theatre and pointed 50 yards behind us at the “Rock of Hope,” which marked the point at which they usually run out of tickets.
We did, in fact, get tickets, and headed off in search of the free food and lawn bowling (who could resist that combination of temptations?) advertised on the morning’s flyer. Our search turned into a bit of a quest, as we discovered that turning right at the amphitheatre as our flyer-man had suggested led us to a row of locked Port-a-Potties, behind which were a pond for tiny sailboat racing, an Alice in Wonderland statue, and a petting zoo. Retracing our steps and turning left instead of right, we encountered a harpist, 3 more saxophone players, a magic show, a street fair (where there was a couple racing against time to stuff a tent into a bag and put it into the trunk of a car, to a wildly cheering crowd; drummers on a stage; and 18 different kinds of tea to sample), and a group of toddlers pushing tiny soccer balls in slow motion in the general direction of several giant goals, to the vague encouragement of their brightly-clothed soccer camp leaders. About to give up hope, we finally stumbled upon the lawn bowling about half a mile in the exact opposite direction our flyer friend had pointed us.
We were ushered into the club of men wearing white shirts and white hats, whose average age was approximately 70, and one woman who was handing out the balls. We each chose a pair of the grapefruit-sized heavy lawn bowling balls and were shepherded to Herb, a white-haired, watery-eyed, slightly humpbacked gentleman who was proud to be in his fourth year of Lawn Bowling Club membership. He explained the rules (you put one foot on the small mat and the other on the large mat and roll your ball at the target), the strategy (you want to roll your ball like a tire, and aim to the right of the target because your ball will curve slightly left if you’re holding it correctly), and the form (bend your knees! Stay low to the ground! Grip the ball tightly! Keep your eye on the target!). After the first round, he played us left-handed, and still beat us, 8 to 1 to 1.
Then there was a game called Spider, where there was a white target ball in the middle of the field and we all spaced ourselves around the edges and rolled our balls at the target all at once. It was 3 seconds of thrilling good fun, where the heavy black balls streaked toward each other like large, round spiders, then collided and ricocheted off each other, to end in a haphazard mess generally near the center of the field. The person who rolled the ball that landed closest to the center won some free Lawn Bowling merchandise; I was within 3 balls of winning – ah, so close.
Afterwards, Herb gave us his business card and invited us to join the club – they play every Saturday and have free lessons on Monday nights. I have no particular burning desire to pursue Lawn Bowling, but it was an afternoon of good, honest fun with kindhearted people.
Sometimes the best activities are unplanned.
My cousin Lexie bussed over from Washington, DC to visit me for the weekend, and on our way through Central Park to wait in line for free tickets for the evening’s Shakespeare in the Park performance, a guy handed us a flyer advertising “free food and lawn bowling” that afternoon. He told us to turn right after the amphitheater and look for a lot of people wearing white – we couldn’t miss it.
We reached the line for Shakespeare in the Park at about noon, knowing they started handing out tickets at 1:00 for the evening’s 8pm performance. I had noticed on the website that Shakespeare in the Park “neither suggests nor condones lining up before the park opens at 6am,” so I wondered vaguely if we were silly to expect to get tickets so late in the day.
As we approached the head of the line, we realized how the serious Shakespeare in the Park fans get it done. There were several couples lounging on blankets, and one was even asleep on an air mattress. Multiple groups had tables and folding chairs with picnic meals, drinks, and games of Scrabble or cards. Further down the line, the less-prepared theatergoers were situated less comfortably, standing or sitting on the pavement, entertaining themselves with iPhones and conversation. Lexie and I joined this second group at the end of the line (which was perhaps ¼ mile long) halfway between a trash can and some benches, directly on top of a sewer grate and at the edge of some shade.
We pretended we were waiting in line at Disney Land; we listened to a saxophone-playing busker who worked his way slowly down the line, playing a song and then moving 20 feet and playing another. We giggled at the irony of his choice of location (he did realize, didn’t he, that he was asking for tips from a line full of freeloaders willing to waste the better part of a day standing in line for free theatre tickets?). We accepted flyers for two alternate free Shakespeare performances by other local groups that we could attend if we were unable to get tickets for Shakespeare in the Park. And finally, near 1:00 a security guard welcomed us to “Shakespeare in the Park: THE LINE,” informed us that there were 1800 seats in the theatre and pointed 50 yards behind us at the “Rock of Hope,” which marked the point at which they usually run out of tickets.
We did, in fact, get tickets, and headed off in search of the free food and lawn bowling (who could resist that combination of temptations?) advertised on the morning’s flyer. Our search turned into a bit of a quest, as we discovered that turning right at the amphitheatre as our flyer-man had suggested led us to a row of locked Port-a-Potties, behind which were a pond for tiny sailboat racing, an Alice in Wonderland statue, and a petting zoo. Retracing our steps and turning left instead of right, we encountered a harpist, 3 more saxophone players, a magic show, a street fair (where there was a couple racing against time to stuff a tent into a bag and put it into the trunk of a car, to a wildly cheering crowd; drummers on a stage; and 18 different kinds of tea to sample), and a group of toddlers pushing tiny soccer balls in slow motion in the general direction of several giant goals, to the vague encouragement of their brightly-clothed soccer camp leaders. About to give up hope, we finally stumbled upon the lawn bowling about half a mile in the exact opposite direction our flyer friend had pointed us.
We were ushered into the club of men wearing white shirts and white hats, whose average age was approximately 70, and one woman who was handing out the balls. We each chose a pair of the grapefruit-sized heavy lawn bowling balls and were shepherded to Herb, a white-haired, watery-eyed, slightly humpbacked gentleman who was proud to be in his fourth year of Lawn Bowling Club membership. He explained the rules (you put one foot on the small mat and the other on the large mat and roll your ball at the target), the strategy (you want to roll your ball like a tire, and aim to the right of the target because your ball will curve slightly left if you’re holding it correctly), and the form (bend your knees! Stay low to the ground! Grip the ball tightly! Keep your eye on the target!). After the first round, he played us left-handed, and still beat us, 8 to 1 to 1.
Then there was a game called Spider, where there was a white target ball in the middle of the field and we all spaced ourselves around the edges and rolled our balls at the target all at once. It was 3 seconds of thrilling good fun, where the heavy black balls streaked toward each other like large, round spiders, then collided and ricocheted off each other, to end in a haphazard mess generally near the center of the field. The person who rolled the ball that landed closest to the center won some free Lawn Bowling merchandise; I was within 3 balls of winning – ah, so close.
Afterwards, Herb gave us his business card and invited us to join the club – they play every Saturday and have free lessons on Monday nights. I have no particular burning desire to pursue Lawn Bowling, but it was an afternoon of good, honest fun with kindhearted people.
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