Golfing in Hell

This past Friday, I attempted to play golf.  For the first time ever.  I have never even been to a driving range or done anything more golf-related than putt-putt (at which I am not very good).  One of my friends at work planned this golf outing for the Firm and our summer law clerks, and I was told that, because it was a "scramble," you really didn't have to know how to play.  I, of course, had no idea what a "scramble" was but liked the idea of a Friday afternoon off from work without the responsibility of actually knowing how to play golf.  I was also promised that there would be a beverage cart keeping us very well-hydrated, but apparently the beverage cart girl didn't get that memo, because we only saw her twice on the whole course.

Anyway, as a non-golfer, my first priority for this trip was proper golfing attire.  And by "proper," I mean the crazy argyle and plaid stuff you see the British people wearing on TV.  Unfortunately, on such short notice, I was unable to acquire any such attire.  My # 1 goal was a tam with a big poofy yarn ball on top, but apparently you can only get those in Scotland.  I will have to go there before I play golf again.  If I ever play golf again.  Luckily, though, I am a pretty preppy dresser, so I just happened to have a Brooks Brothers argyle sweater vest in my closet.  I thought that would pair nicely with a white polo and some white bermuda shorts (I was told that shorts on the golf course have to be at least bermuda-length.  So many rules - sheesh!).  One of my friends at work who is also a non-golfer but who was also convinced to play managed to find a kickin' plaid hat and belt.  The two of us may have been the worst golfers there, but we looked like pros.  We were in a cart together and got several compliments about being the best-dressed cart.  Here are our awesome outfits:

It turns out that a "scramble" means that each player on the team takes one shot from the tee, then you pick the best shot out of the four and all move to that position.  Then you all four shoot again from that position, etc.  Thus, if my tee shot only rolled 10 feet (which happened plenty of times), it didn't really matter because there were two guys on our team who were actually good, and we could just rely on their shots to get us to the green.  I am proud, though, that we actually played my tee shots twice.  I was so proud of the first one that I took this picture of my ball:

I had heard that it's kind of taboo to borrow clubs from someone else on your team (again with the rules - freakin' golf Nazis), so I borrowed some very nice ladies' clubs from a very good friend and neighbor.  Although I dabbled with other clubs from time to time, my favorite was a huge driver that I dubbed "Bertha."  I pretty much hit 90% of my shots with Bertha, including putts.  My well-dressed friend also took a liking to Bertha and used her on several shots.  Bertha was so awesome that she eventually spawned a new verb (i.e., "I'm about to Bertha this bitch onto the green.").  Here is a picture of Bertha resting in our cart while one of my teammates attempted to extricate us from some serious rough:

I should mention that, although the sweater vest is awesome, it causes a bit of a problem when the heat index is 110 and the humidity is 97%.  I knew this ahead of time but chose the sweater vest anyway in the name of fashion.  I think it brought good luck and made my game 110% better.  Of course, you all know what 110% of zero is.  I'm not sure who decided we should play golf at 1:30 in the afternoon on a hundred-degree day, but it seriously felt like we were playing in the deepest pits of Hell (I imagine that, much like our golf course, the deepest pits of Hell have a very lovely river running through them, but you can't get in it).  We were taking bets as to who would pass out on which hole. 

The only relief we got was when we were driving the carts and got a little breeze.  I can't imagine being one of those PGA crazies who walk the whole course.  I never would've made it past the second hole.  Again with the rules, though.  How do you ever learn where it is appropriate to drive the carts?  Apparently there is a "90-degree rule" that the course people said we were not observing and that, instead, we should just drive down the fairway.  Okay, cool.  The two golfers on our team, however, kept returning to the cart path at random intervals.  We followed them because we didn't know what we were doing, but I wondered how they knew what they were supposed to do.  I also knew that we couldn't drive on the green, but I couldn't understand why we couldn't drive right up to the green on the fairway.  One time our cart was in the lead for some reason when heading to the green (on the cart path), and there was a golf-cart-sized dirt path leading from the cart path fairly close to the green.  We turned onto it because it looked like a little driveway.  We then heard the guys in our group (immediately behind us) cracking up and telling us we couldn't drive there, so we had to back out to the cart path.  Why in the world would they make that dirt path if we weren't supposed to drive on it?!  I mean, there are thousands of rules in golf, but they don't make them available to you, so if you're not playing with someone who knows what's going on, you could apparently get in serious trouble with "The Marshall" or "The Ranger" (who I believe were the same person, but again, how was I to know that for sure?).  

Anyway, it took approximately 18 hours for my body temperature to return to normal after our outing.  I believe that's the hottest I have ever been in my life, by far.  I had a great team, though, and we still had a good time.  We even finished one under par (of course, I can take no credit for that, as we probably would be 300 over par and still playing if I had to play all of my shots).  If I ever play golf again, it will be in January.