My Trip to The Masters





I don't even know where to start.  How about how I even got there.



Foster Brook's natural habitat



Our son applied for tickets in The Masters lottery because you either have to be Bobby Jones or Davy Jones ( I always get them mixed up) or wait until a member of Augusta dies before any tickets become available to actually purchase.  Judging from the median age of most members I foresee some slots becoming available real soon.



 Now one would think hooray for tickets to The Masters, hope father and son have the time of their lives. That is what one thought. And then she thought , woohoo- long week to herself. But she thought wrong. The son is in grad school so he's out.  I suggested the dog who would have loved all the open green spaces but I guess there's some silly rule about dogs not being invited unless they're service dogs or can at least break even and although I offered to poke Bill in the eye he just wouldn't go for it.  I think it was all the lengthy paperwork you have to fill out to bring the dog.  Plus Maddie's more of a tennis fan. So seizing the opportunity to parlay this into a visit with some old friends that live not far from Augusta I thought what the heck.  I love green lush landscapes with lots of people that whisper and point at men in strange hats and pants. Or Foster Brooks who was not green but was a lush.   So off we went. The calm before the storm. Literally.



We drove to the hotel in Augusta.  It was easy to tell there was some kind of golf tournament in town as there was not ONE (not one!)person in the lobby that was not in appropriate golf attire.  As we were getting checked in at the desk a 15 passenger van pulled up outside and 45 Japanese people popped out with full sets of luggage AND golf clubs. It was like a Hello Kitty convention. Bill tried sending a mind melt message prompting me not to stare but it was impossible.  I felt like an Amazon on the elevator. It was difficult to corral my inner Godzilla.

We checked in and Bill asked all the "when" "where" and "how" questions.  The hotel clerk explained  that the best way to get to the course was to take their shuttle and save us the hassle, I was all like yay! Then she blew it by saying even though the course was less than 5 minutes away the traffic was so bad it took about 45 minutes to get there. SHUT UP LADY!!! Just let us be surprised. I inwardly groaned.  Well, not really inwardly I think I said some bad things in Japanese as there was an immediate scurrying of people out of the lobby.  This meant we were going it alone.

As we (I) trudged to the car for the practice run Bill dropped HIS ONLY SET OF CAR KEYS on the pavement where they exploded into parts and pieces.  His only comment was "This is not funny".  Which I took as a warning, because sometimes I'm smart that way.  Plus he was my only ride home. Eventually.  When we put the keys back together.  We did.  I laughed inside. Where it was safer.

We made a dry run to the course and it really was only 5 minutes away. So fine, that meant getting up at 5 am to shower and do the hair and makeup dance and leave by 6.  I had bought a cotton dress especially for the occasion.  Failing to note that there were sailboats on it but thankfully my son pointed that out after I had removed the tags by asking what yachting event I was planning on attending.  I'm so proud.  

Smiling while bleeding to death

Now all we needed was a good night's sleep.  Which did not happen because God tried to wipe Augusta off the map about midnight and I know this because I was listening to the hail come down and the winds whip around with great gusto.   At the same time the storm was raging my friend  had texted me wanting to know where we were planning on staying in Columbia the next night.  When I texted her that if the hail was not followed by locusts, frogs, and fire and we lived thru the night we'd be staying at the hotel  over by the zoo. I could actually hear panic in her text as she answered back " I don't think that's a good idea! Why did you pick that hotel?  You're going to get car-jacked".  I texted back that I'm married to a man with Michael Scott like qualities when it comes to trusting his GPS system or a stock photo of a hotel on the computer. Unless there is a picture of someone being car-jacked on the hotel website he's good to go.  At 1am I made the executive decision to change hotels.  However I'm not much of an executive, and I don't have the credit card that grants access to hotel points and fairies. ( It's a special card, mine has a picture of Tinkerbell on it, it makes me feel happy when I spend money needlessly - which according to the real executive is all the time)  So it wasn't so much an executive decision as it was an executive size panic attack discussing the many ways we would be gutted and left to die that convinced my loving husband to change the reservations.  He was more than thrilled to be called into the decision making process at such a divine hour.





Not one woman in a yachting dress





No sleep.  The alarm goes off at 5 am and all my joy has evaporated being replaced by contempt and all out rage.  But I get in the shower and don my lovely yatching dress.  I decide that since we had enough rain to float the ark I would wear my sporty sandals not tennis shoes since my feet would be wet all day.  That was my first bad decision.  My second was purchasing a sleeveless yachting dress. My third was believing the weatherman when he said it would be 90 degrees that day.

We drove to the course. In 5 minutes.  There are no lines at 6:15 am.  There might have been crowds somewhere but the fog was so damn thick you couldn't see a thing.  We did get parked and in usual Burriss timing were among the first in line.......to find out the the opening of the course which "someone" originally thought was 7 am was actually 8 am AND had been delayed another hour.  Hooray for being punctual. 

 

Now I'm tired, cold, hungry and look like I was smacked by the Shirley Temple Hair fairy but not in a cute way. More like the woman that ran the orphanage in "Annie". I  had a similar attitude.  We walked to the nearest food establishment which seems a hell of lot closer when you drive past it in the fog on the way in. I've already slung enough mud up the back of my legs and lovely yachting dress plus the addition of pine needles stuck in my sandals between each toe.  Perfect, just the look I was going for.  Homeless yachtster.    We grabbed breakfast at a Kroger's  where I made fun of all the other wormless early birds.





Angel Somebody





Then suddenly we were there. The mecca of the golf world.  The Masters.  It was beautiful.  It was perfect.  It was .........hilly.  We walked in and stared. Bill was soaking it all in.  I was wondering who the little man in the green jacket was standing right behind me.  I thought wow, they have leprechauns in Augusta.  He sounded familiar.  He looked familiar. "Hey Bill, I think that's Jack(Nicklaus) standing right behind me"

Bill "where?"

Me "there" ( pointing over my shoulder and whispering like an idiot)

Bill" I think you're right"

and it was.  He was so polite.  I was so awestruck I couldn't get my camera out at all. Rats.



Hunter's bag



Bill lapsed into a golf coma telling me all kinds of interesting facts about the course, the players, the hole designs ----which sounded a lot like this 'wah wah wah wah wah wah wah "  I took lots of pictures of people I don't know , couldn't identify, wouldn't recognize again if my life depended on it.  In one photo I showed Andrew I said "Here's a couple of kids putting on this green, they were so funny".  Andrew said " Mom , you just called the number one golfer in the world a kid."  He looked twelve.







No Triage?



Seven and a half hours later my calves seized up. I was afraid to take off my shoes because they were the only thing between life and hemorrhaging to death. We walked every hole and then some.  I'm not real sure we were still in Augusta.   I was the only idiot in a yachting dress but I didn't really care anymore.   Bill mentioned staying for the Par-Three contest and I said "Please dear God, just leave me to die at the concession stands"  For a moment he considered it.   Then he took pity on me and we left.



Things I LIKE to take pictures of but have to explain later



We drove to Columbia.  There were no car-jackers at our hotel.  We checked in , turned on the TV where the sports announcer said "Oh , there are the warning sirens, a storm is on its way, everyone is directed off the course immediately.  The rest of the Par-three contest is cancelled."   I turned to Bill and said "You're welcome."





 FORE............