On golf balls and antihistimines

I'm not sure where this weekend went. Here it is, Sunday night already and I can only remember maybe 10 hours of it. I've managed to stay asleep the majority of the time, thanks to an antihistimine induced coma. If you're an allergy ridden person like myself, you'll know what i'm talking about. If you don't have allergies, and are looking for a cheap sleep aid, I highly recommend Benadryl.

Through it all, I do have a few conscious memories of the hours we spent Saturday on the driving range trying to learn how to play golf. Yes, you read that right. I was trying, for the very first time, to grasp the popular concept of hitting a little white golf ball into an iddy-biddy hole located somewhere outside of my field of vision and through the time and space continuum. I know this actually happened and isn't some drug induced dream because each time I move i'm reminded of the experience by my sore muscles.

Let me first start off by apologizing to all golfers, professional and recreational alike. I used to think golf was boring, and such a silly sport tolerated only for the solidifing of business deals. "How hard could it be?", I thought. I'm not clutsy, and usually pick up things rather quickly, so this should be a piece of cake right? After a few instructions on hand positions and standing correctly, I took an ever so calculated swing of my club, slicing it through the air like a mighty samurai.

If the whole object of the game was to make the tee or little clumps of dirt and grass reach the hole...i'd be giving Tiger Woods a run for his money right now. Only i'm told it's the golf ball that must make contact with the club, not the tee or the freshly uprooted grass samples that are now scattered in various locations around the country club. (i'm not sure, but I think I heard laughter coming from the pro shop)

A local golf instructor took pity on us at one point, and offered a few instructional tidbits. Chest out, arms straight but not locked, knees relaxed, butt out, lean a little forward, create an "L" with your wrist and your club, pivot on your toe on the follow through, head steady, eye on the ball...swing using the fulcrum of the torque generated from your torso...blah blah blah. If I could remember to do all of that at once i'd be good to go. What was it again? um....

I gave it a whirl, complying with as many instructions as I could remember. I swear, I don't know how it happened, but the tee disappeared into thin air leaving the ball exactly where it was on the ground. How is that possible?

The putting green proved equally as frustrating, because my now keenly trained arm muscles were having difficulty adjusting to the ever so slight tapping motion needed to putt as opposed to the more powerful driving swing. Three hours later, I left the course in complete disgust, and with a new appreciation for golfers everywhere.

I imagine I will try again one sunny day. We did have a great time even if I stank at the sport and I'd hate to think I was defeated by a golf ball in the end. Besides, I love to make people laugh. Laughter is good for the soul, and i'm pretty sure they applauded our performance as we drove off into the sunset.