A couple of weekends ago I had the pleasure of hanging out with two very different groups of friends doing similar yet very different things. The first outing was with a group that have a somewhat professional relationship with and have known each of them for varying amounts of time. We had a meeting of organizers for a community group I started back in 2002. The gathering was really for logistical updates and to recruit a handful of new volunteers and bring them into the fold.
The meeting was fun because it started with dinner and ended with a trip out to a bowling alley in North San Jose. When I asked what kind of bowling alley this was, T just said, "This is where the brown people go." I laughed because I knew he mean people of color and most likely working class.
If you don't know North San Jose, it's an odd mixture of high-end hotels and cheap motels that business people crash at when they come to the Silicon Valley for meetings with high tech companies and whatnot. This area is very popular for business travelers because the airport is also located in this area. The diversity of "brown" and not so brown folks who live in North San Jose have probably been there for awhile. The light rail runs through this area and the further north you go, the more industrial it gets. I don't consider myself a San Jose "person" so forgive me if I've over-simplified the charm of this area.
The 4th Street bowling alley is this hole-in the wall place that is your stereotypical and familiar stinky smells of community bowling shoes and cigarette smoke from the yesteryears of legal "inside" smoking. 4th Street has a bar area which was also a blast from the past. Off to the right side, the bar seemed to be added on in order to draw people who were just interested in having a drink.
My group consisted mainly of Asian Americans - a couple of Chinese, a couple of Pilipinos, a Japanese guy - about 11 in total. When I walked in, my ID was checked by two people before I was able to access the main area. Once I got into the main bar area, the scene was a cross between a high school dance and a karaoke bar. A DJ played music and in between songs, people would walk across the often empty dance floor to belt out their favorite songs. When I walked in, an older Latina was singing something in Spanish. The crowd was enjoying it because they were shouting and yipping in approval.
One of my friends knew the bartenders so after we found a large table, we headed over and ordered drinks. I looked around the room as I waited for my drink and was amazed at the diversity. There were lots of older folks - Latinos, Asians, Pacific Islanders, Blacks - and there was also a mix of younger folks also of all ethnicities. When the DJ would play something interesting to the crowd, I noticed several older lesbian couples and several older couples dancing. The Samoan couple that danced by our "Asian circle" took great liberty with the dance floor. They seemed to really enjoy dancing across a great amount of space. T grabbed me and we started dancing to some salsa music. The older Latina couple enjoyed dancing cheek to cheek and often looked lovingly into each other's eyes. A Black woman started dancing with T at one point. M and B danced and made us all laugh until we cried. Shots flowed amongst friends and strangers. It was a really fun night.
As the night came to a close, we all stumbled out into the parking lot. Someone said that they had yet to actually bowl here, even though they'd lost count of the amount of times they'd visited. Some of us went home, and the hungry ones continued through the night at a nearby diner.
In contrast, the next night I also ended up at a bowling alley in San Jose. However this bowling alley was located in the significantly more affluent Alamaden Valley area of South San Jose. This part of the sprawling city is the most recently developed. Tract homes, hillside single family homes and cul de sacs infest this area. I worked in this area last summer at a day camp for K-5 kids so I'm sort of familiar with the folks that live and work in Almaden Valley.
The bowling alley, also known as 300 San Jose, was remodeled from a run-down alley to a swank destination several years ago. I remember the first time I went to 300. It was after work and a bunch of staff members from camp wanted to go some place and unwind. I tagged along to hang out and wait out the rush hour traffic. When I walked in, my jaw dropped to the floor because it was the nicest, cleanest, and most modern looking bowling alley I had ever been to my entire life.
When you walk in, you are greeted by a person who takes your bowling request and arranges for your lane. Once you get a lane, you walk over to the shoe counter where they don't hold one of your shoes hostage when they give you your nice smelling bowling shoes. At the same desk, you get fitted for you bowling ball based on finger hole size and weight, and they provide you your ball so you don't have to go searching in the ball racks for a perfect fit.
This group of friends that went to 300 are newer friends of mine. They're all much more well-off than the folks I hung out with Friday night. Money isn't usually much of an issue for them. (Or maybe they just don't complain about it?) They're a fun group because D and I have done everything from play Rock Band to celebrate the new year's eve to party in SF with them. O and K came out as well so it was nice to see a mix of friends.
The most striking thing about the two bowling alleys is that they are probably about 10 miles apart. Literally on opposite ends of the sprawling San Jose, they class disparity could not be any more apparent. The kids who went to 300 wore designer clothes, were mainly white and Asian, and paid for bowling at $9/person, game, and lane. Some affluent-looking Latinos were there with their kids and had drinks and snacks toted back and forth by servers at they lounged in leather sofas and chairs.
At 4th street, the feeling was much more familiar, as if these were like the community of people I grew up with in SF and lived with in NYC. While police were present at both locations, at 300 they were hanging out with the staff. At 4th street, they were patrolling and checking IDs.
As I was leaving 4th street, I said goodbye to M's friends who had bought me a shot to take with them. They were really drunk by now and were simply hanging out at the bar to sober up. They asked if I was going to come back again next week. I told them no, that I didn't live in the area. They looked disappointed but smiled and said that I should come back again if I was ever close by. I thanked them for their kindness and walked out into the cold night in search of greasy food.
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