Golfing From Iraq

It was a tad cold for our golfing group this weekend. A quick stop at the local McDonald’s yielded an upset stomach, upset head, and an upset wallet since I didn’t win the $5 million dollars they advertised by collecting the railroads on the Monopoly board. While going through the drive thru our adversary on the squawk box uttered some words in which we replied faithfully with our order…

Four times.

By the third time I was sure they were preparing a nice T-Bone with a side of twice baked potatoes, fresh crêpes, a mimosa, and eggs benedict. Instead I received a limp Sausage McMuffin instead of the tasty biscuit one that I inquired about four times. I did not return the cheery “good morning” to the window jockey.

As the McMuffin quickly made its way thru my digestive tract, our group of eight waited for the frost to leave the greens before paying for the pleasure of swinging icicles at little round balls that would end up in various woodland areas. It may have been a cold morning, but by the afternoon, the sun was able to defrost a layer of clothing so I was able to blame something else for my horrible drives.

Despite giving away the maximum at the golf course thru various bets, I kept my eye on the home game put on by our friend Rice, who was on leave from Iraq and was the reason we all braved the freezing temps and my four-putts with smiles.

Roast beef, cheeeeeeesy potatoes, queso, chips, beer, a beautiful new poker table, and a horrible KC/Steelers game greeted golfers as we made our way into his basement for a little SnG-action. The poker wasn’t important, but the fact that my friend was still able to be one of the guys despite the working conditions in Iraq amazed me. I truly hope that the scene from Sunday happens again six months from now when he’s discharged back into civilian life. I can go back to cursing my fuckin slice and getting my big slick cracked by his AJo (GOLD! But to be fair I cracked his Kings with AJ earlier in the game…). We can laugh together and point to Larry Johnson trying out a WCW/WWF move on Troy P’s hair during the football game and not worry about insurgents/mortar rounds/secular violence.

I don’t want to know what he’s seen; I didn’t feel it was my place to ask. But rather tried to make my friend feel “normal” for a day by yelling at a golf ball to please not go into the water or having my friends shout for a river King to match the one his hand for defeat my twos and take down the money.

I hope he will go back with a fresh feel for his daughter, wife and friends that he’ll see again.

Hopefully sooner then later.

Thanks for dropping by, now when this guy is done dispatching gangbangers, ho’s, and lottery retailers with his cookie flipper, he might want to turn on a Red Soxs/Yankees-less Sportcenter to see that his favorite major league baseball skipper will no longer be causing stress ulcers for A’s fans.