I've never had the urge to learn how to play golf. I had an ex-boyfriend who tried to teach me once, but I would swing the club and the ball would move all of two inches.
It's so much more enjoyable to climb in the golf cart and drive it around the golf course. Watching other people golf. Yes, watching. And later writing about it. Because I've done that many times. And enjoyed it. I'm not the one chasing after a little white ball that I've somehow managed to hit, more than two inches, into the woods.
But miniature golf? That's more my style.
Word Nerd and I decided to go miniature golfing last night after work. It's been a few years since I last tested my putting skills, so I was expecting to be a little rusty.
Yeah, I was rusty all right. Luckily, there weren't any other groups of people waiting behind us, because instead of the 18 holes we paid for, I think we ended up playing 22 or something. Hole number 1? Yeah, we tried that one twice because we both hit the maximum six strokes before even getting remotely close to the hole! And those holes, yes there were multiple, where you had to hit the ball uphill to even get close to the hole? Not so fun.
The little signs at the beginning of each hole told us par was usually 2 or 3. Yeah, we were lucky if we'd get our ball into the hole in 4 or 5 strokes. Most of the night we were quite even, it was just one bad putt into the raging river and a few of those uphill shots for Word Nerd that left our scorecard reading Word Nerd 69, Badgergirl 65.
It was fun though.