Maybe I hadn’t thought through all the details when I agreed to take my son to play putt putt golf with a couple of his friends.
So much so that I volunteered to take him to a movie, swimming for a week (assuming the temperature climbs back over that 70-degree mark), and even asked him to name his price – the price that would get me out of 18 holes of self-imposed torture.
I say torture because I know how difficult it can be to have more than two people playing putt putt at one time. The wait between putting would be treacherous, the kids couldn’t be counted on to keep their own score (oh, and yes – we would keep score), and I would lose all patience watching them hit a four inch putt with the velocity of a line drive.
My excuses and bargaining chips all dried up, I was able to put off the trip until late in the afternoon. When we entered the gates, I had a gathering of little ducklings aged 16, 9, 8, and 6 for a grand total (including my admission) of $25.
Putters in hand, we set off for the third of three 18-hole courses. Our choice? The Miracle Course. Because it would take a miracle to get through it.
As I wrote everyone’s name on the scorecard, my daughter discovered that the youngest two had chosen the same color ball as me (red). That would never do. A few minutes later, all of us had a different color golf ball, and I was left with the white one.
I spent the first three holes yelling at all three of the younger ones.
“Come back here!” “Wait your turn.” “Stop.” “Just go.”
Then the 9-year-old hit a hole-in-one. Followed by my hole-in-one – then my daughter’s.
Then more chaos. Because the next hole required the ball to hit the water, where the current would carry it down to the grates and the putting would ensue – except that leaving the ball in the water and letting it make this little trip totally went against the grain of being a boy. Which is when they all piled into the stream to retrieve their balls.
From there, the putt putt seemed to putter out. My daughter and I urged the youngest of the group to just put the ball next to the hole after he’d taken 27 shots. Unfortunately, he missed the shot.
It was probably about that time that the rain started. For a minute, I thought I’d heard thunder. Maybe even seen some lightning.
No such luck.
By the time we hit the 18th hole, roughly two hours later, one of the kids had decided to practice. He’d made his second hole in one – game over.
The rest of us weren’t so lucky. In fact, the littlest among us tallied up one of his highest scores on that hole. While he was busy putting, the others discovered the ball recepticle, astonished that the ball hadn’t really disappeared after all.
“Just drop it in the hole,” I finally said.
We had bigger things to do. Like tally up the scores. Which Hannah did on her cell phone calculator. (I tried to tell you, some of the scores were really high…)
As she announced the scores, my name headed up the leader board with a score of 48 – only 10 over par (and some of those holes were really tricky).
My victory had almost made the whole misadventure worth it. Needless to say, I’m ready to go back. This time, we’ll play the first of the three courses. It has a volcano. And I’m always up for a challenge…