A few days ago, I mentioned some of my unfavorite things. Golf starters are on that list. These are the guys that regulate who tees off when on the first tee of a golf course. I've never met a golf starter that wasn't over 50 years old, male, and on a power trip, reigning with an iron fist over his tiny patch of grass on the first tee. It's not just the starters that get me hot, it's all the old guys. Old men with nothing better to do than bitch at others because it makes their life feel less sad. These are cranky lonely men who begrudge you your youth.
This morning, Stace and I went out to play at Robert A. Black near Pratt and Ridge. It's a well kept 9 hole public course. We were paired up with another couple, Scott & Jen, folks we didn't know, but they were nice enough. The play was fairly slow as it usually is on a weekend at a public course. We were consistently waiting for the group in front of us, so even though our speed was pokey, there wasn't anywhere to go. The jackass old guy in the group behind us (let's name him Herman) saw it differently.
On the 3rd tee, Herman scolds Scott that we should be letting the girls hit first to speed things up. Technically he's right, but considering we were waiting on every tee and shot, the difference was immaterial. As I was hitting my tee shot on the 4th tee (a short par 3), Herman yells from the 3rd green, "They're off the green!" Thanks ass, we can see that, we're teeing off. Herman is one of these 50 year old guys that eats too much bacon, wears black socks with his bermuda shorts and has a floppy hat on his head pulled down like a crown. "What's the problem?" "It's called etiquette which obviously you know nothing about." If there's one thing I know about, it's golf etiquette. I caddied for 6 years and know more than you want to know about such useless trivia. Holding the pin so your shadow doesn't cross the path of a putt, repairing ball marks, and raking your steps as you exit a sand trap on the low side so you don't erode the sand wall are all things I could demonstrate for Herman if he had asked.
Herman would rather just be grumpy, not look me in the eye, and answer what his problem is. People hate confrontations. I'm small. I'm 5'10'', 160 lbs. and I mouth off to people I have no business mouthing off to. Usually old guys on golf courses because I hate (x256) them. One day, I'm going to make the wrong judgement call on who I can mouth off to and someone is going to hurt me.
I enjoy the rush of adrenaline from the confrontation with Herman. I don't think being a hothead is an attractive personality trait, but I'm not gonna take shit from a fat grandpa in a floppy hat. We exchanged a few more words, and I figured that was all.
On the 5th fairway, Herman and his group hit right into us, over our heads without yelling 'Fore'. Now that's just stupid. He didn't hit Stacy, but she was pissed. Stacy called him a jagoff. Besides being one of my favorite insult words, you now know I'm not exaggerating what a jerk Herman was. Stacy gives everyone the benefit of the doubt and has a very even keel temper. If she calls you a jagoff, you're a jagoff.
I'll probably never stop hating men like Herman, even when I become old, cranky and impatient like Herman. I just hope when I get that way, Stacy doesn't call me a jagoff.