People who don't own their own bowling ball or shoes don't go bowling because they're hoping for a perfect game; they go to drink cheap beer, inhale stale cigarette smoke and talk shit about their gutterball friends. More often than not, the actual game takes a backseat to lowbrow banter and greasy concession-stand food. So why not just skip the sport altogether and head to Harry's Bar (not to be confused with the swank, retro digs inside the Hotel Magnolia), a dodgy dive that caters to the bowling-alley crowd who couldn't care less about fingering a twelve-pound ball. It's all here: colorful and questionably crazy regulars; comfy bar stools; a domestic-only draft-beer selection featuring Natural Light; cheap hot wings and pizza; and a retro Ms. Pacman arcade game. If you really want to score, hit twofer time, from 3 to 7 p.m. daily.
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