A Night of Staking Out the Turf -- or the Alleys, To Be More Specific

The bright moonlight and stars illuminated the shadows as I skulked into the alley. I took in the surroundings to make sure nobody followed me, and carefully looked ahead to make sure there was no ambush waiting inside.

As winter merged into spring, the air was cool, and I was on a mission, a secret mission.

This was a stakeout, an undercover surveillance operation. It seemed pretty easy. I've done it before, and seen it done in the movies and on TV.

Okay, the alley was really a bowling alley, and my covert mission was not as furtive as I'd like to believe. It was a singles event.

The $10 admission for a night of bowling was nothing. I've thrown away a lot more on other futile endeavors. No, I was more concerned with my time. Plus, I was a bit under the weather, with a cold brewing. On top of that, I don't really enjoy bowling.

Nevertheless, I went through with the sting.

My plan was simple: Show up early, set up a surveillance operation from an inconspicuous location and wait to see if enough women showed up to warrant spending an hour or so bowling.

This was not the first time I'd been on a stakeout. In my reporter days, I handled my share of them, whether it was the real surveillance of someone I was trying to catch engaged in wrongdoing or just hanging around a news scene waiting for the story.

After arriving at the location -- a New Jersey bowling alley -- I did an initial walk-through. I needed to see if the singles group had established itself. Then, I had to find the best vantage point for observation.

There were two people seated at a table with a clipboard and some papers. They could be the group organizers. I nonchalantly passed by without making eye contact, glanced at the table with my peripheral vision and kept walking. Targets confirmed.

Then, I went to the bar, sat on a stool where I could see the entire hallway, the group's table and the alley's television.

'Law & Order: SJU'
The perimeter was established. I could see everything. If this were a cop show, I would have had a doughnut, coffee and a cigarette. But I don't smoke or drink coffee, so I had a soda. The "Coke" I ordered turned out to be a flat Pepsi. The condensation dripped from the plastic cup.

To blend in and look natural, I pulled out my cell phone and checked my messages, knowing full well that I had none.

Maybe I've watched too many episodes of "Law & Order." Or maybe this could be a new spinoff, "Law & Order: SJU (Single Jewish Unit)." Or maybe I'm just not as good at surveillance as I thought I was, because two minutes later the guy from the table approached me and asked, "Excuse me, this might sound weird, but are you here for the Jewish singles event?"

At that point, I had two options: either lie or confess. With my cover blown so easily, my future career as a secret agent is probably off the books.

Yet this guy pretty much approached anyone who didn't look like they were there for a Saturday-night bowling league. I saw him ask two other men the same question; it made me wonder how well I'd fare playing "cloak and dagger" in the real world.

The singles-event stakeout is nothing new. I've seen it at numerous events all over the place. For the group I run in Syracuse, I've seen people come to the venue, take one look around and simply leave. They were not very subtle about it, and I never approach people who seem like they're not even interested.

The bowling party that night turned out to be me, three guys of varying degrees of coolness and a lone female who had organized the event through her synagogue. One of the guys had rancid B.O. Another brought his own bowling gear. I admit that, sometimes, I wish I had my own bowling shoes because it gives me the creeps wearing the borrowed ones, especially thinking about how many other people's feet were in them before mine.

The guy unloaded his own shoes, ball and wrist apparatus, which I thought would be an indication of bowling competence. He didn't break 100, which is still a lot higher than most presidential candidates these days.

My own game was pretty embarrassing as well. Between my usual bowling incompetence -- partially attributed to having broken fingers playing soccer that get strained by the bowling ball -- my looming cold and the interference by the half-dozen kids from a family in the adjacent lane who kept walking into my own, I didn't break 100 either. I only bowl about once every year-and-a-half or so.

That makes it two alternate careers wrecked in one night: no undercover operative work and no pro-bowling tour. Then again, maybe Dick Wolf needs another writer for a "Law & Order" gig.

Roy Gutterman is a Syracuse, N.Y.-based writer. To contact him, visit: www.Lrev.com.