My heart faltered at the news that the Magic Lanes bowling alley in White Center has shut down permanently as of August 1 (read Patrick Robinson’s story about the closure here).

My girlfriend and I discovered this gem a little too late it seems. In recent months Magic Lanes had become our favorite nothing-better-to-do evening activity with an entertainment-to-dollar ratio that is mighty rare these days. We could bowl our fill while enjoying a pitcher of beer without batting an economic eye.

And then there was the staff. I never learned most of their names, but everyone working at Magic Lanes – from the women serving drinks and food with a down-to-earth welcome, to the man behind the counter who I could always count on to counter today’s Top 40 hits with stellar seventies rock (proper bowling music), to the lane mechanic who commuted an hour each way just to work for minimum wage and bowl for free – wonderful people.

Wonderful people, proven to me by an experience I had last week – just days before anyone (including the staff) knew the doors would be shuttered for good.

Melissa and I arrived at the alley around dusk on a Thursday night after putting down some local Mexican food. I put the car into park and we headed in, playfully talking trash over who would emerge as bowling master. It was shaping up into a fine date night.

We paid for our lane, slipped on our community shoes and walked to the bar to shoot the breeze with the ladies and grab a pitcher of beer (terms like “shoot the breeze” are still allowed in bowling alleys). As I reached for my wallet I realized something was amiss. No keys.

“Do you have the keys?” I asked.

“Nope,” Melissa replied, looking at me with that look.

Then a friendly patron came in and asked if anyone was driving the red car outside? “The lights are on,” he said.

My color reddened, putting two-and-two together that I had managed to leave the keys in the car, forgotten to turn off the lights and likely left the doors unlocked. Anyone interested in a complimentary 2001 Impala?

I ran to our lane and swapped out my shoes (gotta respect the rules), hurried outside and as I got closer to our car I could hear an engine running. How kind of me to leave it on for anyone interested. I yanked on the door.

Locked. The car is locked, the car is running, the lights are on and I don’t have a spare.

My head much redder and hanging much lower now, I walked inside to break the news.

After hearing my story and surely concluding internally, “You, sir, are an idiot,” Melissa let me know that she would hang out in the bar with our pitcher while I figured out how to solve this little problem. It seemed fair.

I asked the bartender if she could call a cab.

“A cab would take an hour to get here,” she said. “Let me see what I can do.”

With a fine date night quickly morphing into epic failure, I crossed my fingers and waited, avoiding eye contact with Melissa and humming along with the Journey song playing in the background.

“Chris, one of our employees, will give you a ride,” she said. Wow, I thought, does this kind of thing really happen anymore?

Sure enough, Chris had just ended his shift (he was the lane mechanic) and was kicking back, bowling a few games for pleasure.

I started thanking everyone profusely and the bartender told me she would protect Melissa while I was gone. Not that Melissa needs protecting (she’s a tough gal), but it was a hell of a gesture.

Chris drove me to my house, keys were obtained, and we were back to the alley in 20 minutes. I turned off the car, a little lighter on gas than necessary, and all was well.

I left my bar tab open and gave Chris full access, thanked everyone again (approaching ad nauseam) and we settled in for a few rounds of very amateur bowling.

Thanks to the staff of Magic Lanes, date night was salvaged (although my image may have come out a bit tarnished).

We hadn’t been there enough times to be considered locals with access to special privilege. It was simply a case of selflessness for a stranger’s sake.

My best to those who lost their jobs with Magic Lanes’ closure – you are great people and I hope you land on your feet soon.