It’s not always like this, as I’ve tried in vain to convince several friends, but, yes, it can be a very good thing to sometimes be a golf writer. Here, in fact, is the menu for one of the dinners for what should prove to be a magnificent 20th anniversary celebration commemorating the founding of the Texas Golf Writers set to take place at the lovely Westin Stonebriar Resort in Frisco, Texas. A proud, albeit Yankee past president, who owns neither belt buckle or cowboy boots, I will be proudly in attendance – and in line at the buffet. (We do need a slogan, perhaps: Near and Uncertain?)
Open Bar. Caribbean Rock Lobster with Mango Pico in Mini Phyllo Cup. Gorgonzola Cheese Mousseline atop Anjou Pear and Prosciutto. Sesame Crusted Chicken Skewer with Asian Plum Sauce. Belgian Endive and Boston Bibb Salad with Marinated Asparagus, Portobello Mushrooms and Pepper Confetti with Sun-Dried Tomato Vinaigrette. Chef's Choice of Market Fresh White3 Fish with Appropriate Sauce paired with Petite Filet of Beef with Caramelized Shallot-Sherry Cream Sauce. Chef's Selection of Starch. Chef's Selection of Market Fresh Vegetables. Assorted Rolls with Sweet Butter. Individual Triple Chocolate Mousse Torte with Chococlate Anglaise, Fruit Sauce and Belgian Cookie. Freshly Brewed Starbucks (R) Regular and Decaffeinated Coffee and Assorted Gourmet Hot Teas and Iced Tea.
Anyway, at considerable personal risk, I’ve transcribed below an unexpurgated excerpt from a recent press trip diary:
Woke up with head cold from virulent AC inexplicably switched on at the tail end of previous day’s yoga class. Left for airport on time. Had to drive back home having forgot sandwich and water. Check-in a madhouse. Treated myself to one of those $3 trolleys. It wouldn’t fit in the back seat so drove around the airport to long term parking with left hand on cart, back door of Honda open, right hand on steering wheel. Parked miles away, walked clubs, case, 38 pounds of radio equipment to airport, got in wrong ticket line. Managed to get through security without a strip search. Got in wrong line at correct gate for wrong flight. It’s 8:46 a.m. Wonder why I brought pair of black shoes. Radio equipment weighs 38 pounds, golf clubs 35, small suitcase 12. Nose running. No idea what golf course I’m supposed to play when we land nor how to get there. Perfect. Roaming toddler has just spotted me. He seems interested.
To my chagrin, small bottle of distilled water is viewed as security threat. Toddler agitated. Throat sore. In Celebration of Golf Store next to gate. No copy of Golf Etiquette on display. No Gigantic Book of Golf Quotations either. Took sales manager’s name and address. Woman manning counter stands in front of a large painting of the home fairway of the Old Course. Has no idea what it depicts. Shard of glass in my rubber sole. Absent-mindedly pull it out. Tip of thumb and forefinger now bleeding. 9:07. 9:15 Thunderstorms in Dallas. Flight delayed. 10:05 departure, now 10:20. There are 20 or more people wearing red t-shirts, “Texas Tracers Victoria to Utah" on their shirts. They wear their Ids around their necks like children. They’re Betty, Martha & Hilda, and they have the same bowl haircuts as Jody Conradt. They’re taking photos of each other. Lord, get me to Reno.
A man who spoke to me in the golf store butts in front of me in line. I cut him off. Then go sit and read the comics, bummed from a passerby. He’s right behind the Tracers. He can listen to them. 9:35 Flight now delayed to 10:45. Now 10:55. 10:30 Sneezing in bunches. Moved to Gate 12. Adept gate agent, knowing I’d miss my connection, has rerouted me and two others to LA, then to Reno, theoretically only arriving an hour or so later. 11:15 on LA flight. Will clubs make it to Reno? Does station equipment get off Phoenix flight?
Noon. Seated next to the Bush twins…discussing..Halloween costumes?! “Penis” as a faux Crayloa color? Actual quote: “I don’t get nude golf. Sunbathing nude has a purpose.” Other twin: “…to get a tan.” First twin: “But nude golf?” (They’d been reading a USA Today article, apparently, on nude activities.)
“L.A.’s like, really, I don’t know.”
“I feel like a black hole today.”
(Reading People magazine:) “Forty’s kind of gross, but 60’s a whole nother ball game.”
Thrilled to see Wyatt’s article in the magazine in the seat back pocket. [Spirit, June 07, Southwest…I’ll post the link.]
12:35 Officially coming down with something. Hanky soaked. Throat sore.
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