Let me share a story with you. When I was a kid, I lived on an Air Force base in Limestone, Maine. People used to ask who my dad made mad enough to send us that far up, but so be it.

I used to bowl in Saturday morning leagues, and I wasn’t bad as a kid. One year, a group of us decided we wanted to go to this state tournament for kids our age; I have no idea where it was at this point, but I wish I could remember it. Anyway, we left with our chaperone on a Friday, headed to this particular town somewhere in Northern Maine, south of where we were already living. I knew things were going to be somewhat different as soon as we went into the hotel.
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