There's something liberating about being caught in a lie. And make no mistake, we were trapped like a rat. Our preferred set of darts, the 31-gram Sharp Shooters, had gone all popcorn trying to pin a treble three (the darts had stripped each other's flights, so close was the grouping). And in the process, a shaft had been bent. Off we went to St. Louis Dart Shop. Don't let the nondescript storefront fool you: Inside is a pharaoh's ransom of darts, both steel- and soft-tipped, as well as... More »
