A Day at the Driving Range

Today I went to the driving range to practice golf because a friend invited me to play in a tournament and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of her friends. I practiced for an hour and a half today and observed a few interesting things.

One girl must have been dropped off by her parents for a lesson. As soon as the pro got done with her, she hit three or four balls that barely cleared the driving range mat and then sat down on a bench and started texting. I found it curious that someone at the driving range, after forking over $60+ for a private golf lesson, would spend her time holding a cell phone rather than a golf club. She sat on a bench for an hour without taking another swing, and then mosied away, walking like some zombie hypnotized by the object in her hand that she could not put down.

Speaking of cell phones, a golfer was sitting on a far away bench talking on his phone. I thought he was waiting for his golf partner to show up or something. All of a sudden he broke into a country music song. He wasn’t just singing to himself, he was belting out soulful lyrics like, “You left me all alone, now all I’ve got’s a cell phone” or some such.

For crying frigging out loud! Didn’t he know that a golf course is a place of quiet concentration. There are so many things that can go wrong with a golf swing, people try to focus completely and still hit balls all over creation. Having noise just makes a bad situation worse. That’s why announcers WHISPER during golf tournaments on TV.

This Kenny Chesney wannabe was belting his song out to a cell phone. He was holding a phone to his ear singing. None of us on the driving range said anything, but I was getting pretty irritated, and not just because my balls were going everywhere except where I aimed them. The guy’s voice was probably okay, but I dislike country music. But that didn’t annoy me as much as the idea that he was singing to a cell phone. Who was on the other end listening?

I am not exaggerating – it went on for over a half hour. I don’t know if he was singing the same song or what – it all sounds the same to me. As much as the noise was distracting me, I was more preoccupied thinking of WHO he was singing to. Someone who dumped him? But if she dumped him, she surely wouldn’t stay on the phone all that time listening to him wailing out his sorrows. Maybe he was really some country music star and had just written some songs for a new CD and was singing it over the cell phone so his record company could get the musicians lined up to make a new record. I mean, what on earth would possess an adult male to sit on a golf course bench and sing at the top of his lungs?

I am still befuddled, and I know it will cause me sleepless nights for many days to come.

But the oddest thing I saw today was the guy on the golf course riding one of those Seqway’s. It’s a one-person vehicle that seems to be built for people who prefer to keep their calories stored up in their guts rather than burning them off walking. This man on the golf course was standing on the unit, his belly hanging over the handle, rolling up to his golf ball while the other three guys he was playing with were walking. I found it ludicrous. There are golf carts for people who either can’t or don’t want to walk. If you can stand up, why not just take a cart? What a jerk.

I’m starting to sound like a curmudgeon who resents new-fangled gadgets that detract from the established way of doing things. I admit it’s true. I think idiots should leave their cell phones, Segways, and nasally country voices at home when they come to the golf course. Where is the decorum these days?

If God had wanted us to behave this way, he would have given us a Bluetooth for an ear and wheels instead of legs.

Here’s the lyric I’m going to sing next time these people start annoying me – sung in a whining voice like all country songs:

If you came here to play

Put your cell phone away

How can you sit there and sing?

When it’s messin’ with my swing?

If you’re lazy and must ride

Get the hell out of my sight

Chorus: If I have to plant my club in your head

Give you a lump that turns all red

To make you straighten up and act right

Then I can’t wait to start that fight.