Two Up/Two Down

So I'm walking into my apartment tonight looking like an 80 year-old man about to collapse from a stroke, arthritis, and some strange brain disorder. Yeah, I feel like my brain has been "stretched." And yeah. I KNOW nobody believes me.

So what the hell happened to me?

Well, I'll tell you. Two up/Two down "happened" to me.

Translation: Yesterday I carried two bags AND forecaddied for two people in a cart. So basically I looked like an American Gladiator with two bags over my shoulders running like Forrest Gump. Yeah, you heard me. American-flag-skin-tight-shorts and all the fixin's baby. I was an animal.

You're probably wondering: How in the world are you supposed to carry two bags, take care of those two players AND forecaddie for two lazy bastards in a cart for 18 holes? You got me. I just ran like a crack-addict on speed and hoped I ended up in the right place at the right time.

And the worst part? Yeah, one of the bags I'm carrying belongs to a metro-sexual. So he's constantly getting this and that out of his bag. Making sure he looks okay. Calling his friends. I sat on the 6th tee for 5 minutes as the cart rolled away like the last ferry out of HADES as this douchebag rifled through his pockets just to find a cigar CUTTER.

For a SECOND, I was completely okay with this. I mean hey, he's a rich guy, why not take a moment to enjoy a cigar as your playing golf on this beautiful day? But after watching the two guys on the cart get a MASSIVE head start on me and seeing the other player look back from 50 yards away, you can imagine my dismay when I see the guy finally find a PLASTIC CUTTER. I know it's stupid, because of course the majority of Americans would either bite off one end of the cigar with their teeth or pull out a plastic cutter of their own, but this guy had a professional cigar CASE with his name embroidered on it. That cutter better be made of GOLD if we're going to wait this long.

It reminds me of being stuck in a completely unnecessary traffic jam (the kind where you're just driving like a normal person down the road and all of a sudden three lanes of cars slow down and come to a complete stop) where after 15 minutes of moving 3.567 inches you're screaming at the top of your lungs: "Somebody better be fucking DEAD up there!"

Which of course is a great thing to say. I suppose karma is coming back to me in a big way with this metro-sexual.

I was caddying for the president of the club, the head professional, one of the board members, and one of their freaky little friends (Mr. Metro-sexual). So I'm not really sure how I would be caddying for "normal people" under these circumstances, but for these people, yeah, I'm definitely kicking it up a few notches.

Now, the head professional was a MUTANT off the tee. He's 6'6'' and I swear his LEGS are taller than I am. The guy is huge. So with all the leverage he gets for being tall, it's no surprise that he bombs it well over 330 yards off of the tee. And guess what. HE'S one of the player's in the cart. Great.

So while I'm killing myself trying to keep up and get everyone's yardage, there's no way in hell I can EVER help out the head pro until he's on the green. Fortunately, he was cool with me by the 16th hole. I think he just took pity on me. He started asking where I graduated from, how my golf game was looking, whatever. I was surprised I was even CLOSE to being coherent what with all of my major motor functions starting to shut down and my face starting to turn as red as a "cooked lobster" (this is what the Caddie Master said to me after I came in).

A lot of times you'll hear runners' say that after a while, running is all mental.

Yeah, okay, whatever.

I didn't believe that until today. Because running as fast as you can with two bags on your shoulders gets old and painful after a while. For me, holes 12-17 were a little tricky. I think that's where I required a little more mental finesse than HERCULEAN BEASTLINESS. That's probably why I feel like my brain is "stretched" right now. And 18? That was a VICTORY LAP compared to the rest of the round.

So yeah. I feel like an 80 year-old man right now. And it hurts.