Last night, my cousin called about playing golf this morning. He told me if it wasn't raining, he'd meet me at the course. It wasn't raining, at least not at the very minute he called this morning to firm up the 9:30 tee time. Overcast. 45 degrees F. And after raining, the ground is generally not dry. Yes, golfers are fucking crazy.
But there is something bothering me. While driving to the course, I saw a police car on the left side of the road. There were about seven or eight cars lined up ahead of me, a sure sign that someone drove into one of the deep ditches that ran parallel to the road on each side. I thought about turning around in the driveway, but the line of cars started moving slowly; so, I hung with it and didn't turn around. I thought we were going to start moving past the accident site, but there was no accident site. The police car was also moving. Didn't they know that I was going to be late for my golf date?
Damn! I could walk faster than the traffic was moving. Well, maybe not. To my left was a guy with a flat baseball cap, the stupid-looking caps that runners wear, in a running outfit, complete with a race number tacked on his tank top, jogging past the white Volkswagen Beetle with the black "The Who" and peace stickers on the back bumper.
What the hell! Stupid, fucking runners were clogging up the road ahead!
I may be a fucking crazy golfer, but I don't slow down traffic. And I don't play golf in a tank top and running shorts when it's 45 degrees F. and raining.
Posted by Bill at October 22, 2005 06:46 PM