I went to pool league last Monday, and we had some new players on our team! Our team captain somehow talked his dad (the guy that taught him how to play) into joining up for this session. And this guy is really good. Plus, he was really nice (and his wife was super-sweet). I played really badly, but since I wsn't playing any matches, I avoided complete humiliation. (At least until next week.)
One of the coolest things about playing pool is the people watching. I am not exaggerating one iota when I tell you that it's fascinating to observe everything going on around you in a pool hall on a Monday night.
First of all, you get to watch some really good players. I think I like seeing a good player shoot pool almost more than I like playing pool myself. It's almost like chess. You see them thinking, lining up their shots two plays ahead of where they are now. And even though most of the people playing don't strike me as upper-crust, the motion of the game is really elegant. It's beautiful to look at.
And then there's the general parade of humanity. There are alot of scrawny guys who look like they probably drink alot and gamble alot. There are a few guys in slacks and button-ups, probably playing after a day at the office. There are some older folks who look like they've been playing with the same group for a long time and seem to just be in it for the fun.
And then there are the women. Let me tell you a little bit about some of the women that you will see in a pool hall on a Monday night. Some of them seem like perfectly lovely people. I've met some of them, and some of them are definitely perfectly lovely people. And, in my limited experience, it seems that the perfectly lovely people are there for one of two reasons: to play pool or to cheer on their husband/boyfriend/significant other.
But then there are some others. I'm not sure why they are really there, but it's pretty clear that, even though they are playing pool, they are not really in it for the love of the game, kwim?
Last week, there was one poor soul there who was wearing a really short, really tight black skirt. And, well, let's just say that some people need a bit more fabric than others. And pool is a game in which you BEND OVER, which is probably more suited to a pair of jeans (or at least PANTS, for the love of America) than mini-skirts. And all kinds of jiggly stuff was on display. It truly saddened my little heart. If I hadn't thought she would have impaled me with her cue (she looked like she could be pretty mean if provoked), I might have offered to stand behind her and block the view while she was lining up her shots.
On a related note: Please, in the name of all that's holy, just cap me in the head if you ever catch me wearing a white V-necked sundress and a pair of really high heels to a grungy, smoky pool hall. This is not the garden club.
At any rate, I've seriously considered toting my camera in there, just to SHOW you the crazy cross-section of people that show up, but it would be WAY noticeable. And I get the feeling that alot of these folks probably wouldn't want thier pictures taken, at least not by me and not in the pool hall.
So, until I get my courage up, you'll either have to trust me or show up on Monday. I'll be looking for you!