Preakness story coming soon, but in the meantime, this one is recent and hopefully good for a chuckle. Plus, it's quick to write because I'm going to copy/paste an e-mail chain to give most of the details.
A few days before Christmas, the Ox and I went on our 6th annual Christmas round of golf. We started this tradition back in 2012 - we go to the same golf course every year and play 18 holes for the unnamed family championship. A few years, Yams was able to accompany us but is never a factor in who wins because he sucks even more than we do (for posterity, the Ox won in 2012 and 2016, I won in 2013, 2014, 2015, and 2017.) This year, as in several past, our friend Sean came with us and in Yams' absence, his girlfriend Rachel played this year as well. The one caveat with this "tournament" is that the Ox and I both have to buy and bring an 18-pack of beer with us and in order to win the title, you not only have to post the lowest score, you also have to drink the entire 18 pack over the course of the round.
We started the day at 11:00 at a Colombian restaurant near the golf course and over huge plates of bandeja paisa, we each had 3 Presidentes to start things off right. Always a good idea when you have an 18 pack to consume over the next few hours. After lunch, we went next door to the Winn Dixie and selected our 18-packs of choice. Loaded up the coolers and made the short drive to the course. Now, a word about this golf course. It's an executive course, and it might be the s--ttiest golf course in the world. It's roughly $18 to play 18 holes with a cart, it's barely maintained, sand "puddles" on the greens, etc. A total abomination. That's why we play here every year, besides being cheap, no one really cares if you're an ###hole during your round. We would NEVER get away with our style of "play" on a real golf course, for reasons that will soon be clear. We get there and pay the guy in the "clubhouse", who happens to be a mute. I don't want to venture a guess as to what his story is or why he can't talk, but he can't. He looked just like the guy in the wheelchair that switches on the ball return in "Kingpin" when the hustlers take Woody's hand off, if you know the movie. Anyway, we pay him, get the keys to the carts, load them up with beer and the clubs and head to the first tee.
Things are relatively uneventful until we get to about the 5th or 6th hole. The Ox has a gleam in his eye as he pulls out the "treat" he brought with him, a pint flask of Code Rum (local FL artisanal rum, kind of like Captain Morgan but with more spice - 70 proof.) I groan in fear just before I take a lengthy pull.
8th hole - the Ox recommends shotgunning a beer so we can keep our 18 beers/18 holes pace up. I naturally agree.
9th hole - another looooooong pull of rum.
10th hole - an older guy on a cart pulls up to the tee as we're sitting there. I'm pissing in the trees just off the tee box as the Ox, Sean, and Rachel are smoking a huge bowl. He asks to play through, which is hard to hear over Slayer's "Raining Blood" BLASTING through the bluetooth speaker we have hooked to our cart. He looks at us like we're aliens as I look at him and wonder why he chose to play THIS golf course. He plays through and gets the hell out of there, FAST.
12th hole - we finish the rum and shotgun another beer. Things are beginning to get very, very hazy.
15th hole - around here is where I black out entirely. I literally don't remember finishing the 18 packs (we did) or the round (we also did.) The next thing I remember after playing the 14th was waking up in the car and being in my driveway at home. I stumbled into the house, put all my crap away and passed out cold.
The next day, this was the e-mail chain (reformatted and names expurgated)
Rachel : "I had so much fun yesterday guys, thanks for letting me be a part of it!"
EG : "No problem, it was great to have you. Glad you had fun. I don't remember #### after about the 14th hole until I woke up in the front seat sitting in my driveway. Somehow, my clubs, sunglasses, speaker and cooler all made it back safely. I even put the speaker on the USB charger, I was clearly running on autopilot."
Sean : "Does the speaker still work OK?"
EG : "What do you mean?"
Sean : "Holy ####, you don't remember your cart shenanigans?"
Ox : "Oh man, it's all coming back to me, now. Didn't we drive over a car stopper in the parking lot?"
Sean : "Yep. At full speed. [EG,] you don't remember this?"
EG : "Not at all, but I just checked and the speaker works fine. What the hell happened?"
Sean : "Holy ####, dude. You were driving the cart right after we finished and [Ox] was in the passenger seat. You were doing laps around the parking lot and chugging beer where there were no lights and drove over the concrete spot divider at full speed. Seriously, you had to be going almost 30 and BOOM. EVerything flew out of the cart except you and [Ox] - the speaker, the clubs, the cooler with no beer left in it, your sunglasses, balls, tees. It was brutal."
Ox : "HAHAHAHAHAHA - nice work, [EG]. I only sort of remember."
EG : "I have absolutely no memory of this. I blame the rum, and the fact that the parking lot lighting was inadequate. Also, the cart may have been malfunctioning. Basically, I blame everything except myself."
Rachel : "OMG, I can't believe you don't remember. You guys kill me. It was legit the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life. You tried to start doing laps again after and the guy from the clubhouse that can't talk jumped into the cart after [Ox] got out. He was so pissed and then you just looked over at him and went 'Oh, OK. Hi. Merry Christmas' and then stomped on the gas again and took off with him in it. So fkn funny"
EG : "At least he can't tell anyone about it."
Sean : "He was SO mad. He just kept pointing to that fenced-in paddock where they keep all the carts and gesturing to you to drive there. I was right behind you on the other cart. He just kept pointing in that direction and then you asked him if you could smell the inside of his hat. I almost died."
EG : "Jesus Christ. I have literally zero recollection of any of this."
Rachel : "Then, the manager or whatever of the golf course came out and started yelling. He asked you your name and you gave hima fake name."
Sean : "You were doing Jerky Boys, you told him your name was Frank Rizzo. He wrote it down and then was trying to ask you something else, but you kept yelling out a phone number. He kept opening his mouth to yell at you and you would yell louder '6-8-0-5 !!!!!' He finally gave up but its probably good that we aren't going there for another year."
Ox : "Damn I wish I could remember any of this"
EG : "I'm kind of glad I don't. NEVER STOP PARTYING !!!!"
Ox : "Hahaha - Chainsaw!"
Yes, I'm 45 years old.