Friday, May 01, 2009

Chardonnay and Chalets

Found wireless so looks like you get Chardonnay and Chalets after all because, you know, everyone needs a distraction on a Friday...

So here's the thing. I don't do golf. Period. Doesn't matter that all of my girlfriends play golf. Doesn't matter that one of said friends is actually married to someone who plays on the PGA Tour. Doesn't matter that I work in an industry where golf is kind of the go-to social networking tool (I guess finance types just aren't that into Facebook and Twitter). I don't do golf. Although I did flirt with the idea of picking it up for like – half of a millisecond. Because really, golf is such a BIG deal in my world and I thought it would be pretty awesome to be one of like, 2 girls, at big work-related golf things and plus, doesn’t a new sport require a new wardrobe?

But like I have time for golf. I barely have time for what all else I have in my life. In fact, speaking of setting limits, I heard there's a whole universe of pets who Tweet and for about 5 seconds I thought about sitting down with Elvis and guiding him through the Twitterverse because he's so hostile and aggressive these days and I thought if he could Tweet about it, he'd feel a lot better and maybe even be a bit more gentle…but alas, like I have time to teach a goat about Twitter. I'm offering my Dad Twitterting tips and that’s about all I can handle.

Where was I? Golf. Yes Golf. I don't do golf. Well…I didn't do golf…until I met my friend Laurel (not her real name. Not sure why I am not typing her real name. She is a friend. She's not in the witness protection program or anything. Nothing wrong with typing her real name and yet…) who works for the Quail Hollow Championship f.k.a. Wachovia Tournament before Wachovia plummeted from on high and got bought out by Wells and everyone and their mother blew a gasket that TARP money was going to silly, frivolous things like golf tournaments but Wells was screwed because there was a contract – kind of like AIG and their bonuses – but rather than flaunt their name on the tournament and all related merchandising they cleverly adopted the name of the hosting golf course…clever Wells-Wachovia marketing people. Clever. Anyways, Laurel offered me tickets to attend and I was like ok, why not.

So as it turns out, I had a beach weekend planned this weekend and there was no way I could attend the actual tournament but I was in town on Wednesday and so I told her I'd love to come to the practice round/Pro-Am.

So as it also turns out, I was basically expecting 2 pedestrian-peon tickets for me and a guest to wander around cluelessly for a few hours with the rest of the masses peering for Tiger and eating Bojangles. Although really – there is nothing wrong with Bojangles so scratch that last remark…

And so as it also turns out, Laurel is the most awesome friend ever because she sent me 4 tickets with access to one of the private dining chalets AND preferred parking. As I said, Laurel is awesome. Rocks-my-world awesome.

I invited my friend Justine to join me and she brought along her friend Jen who I had never met but who Justine thought I would like (and she was 150% right – I adore Jen and Justine is clearly a friendship Yenta like no other) and although I had some mental hurdles to getting up early and driving in rush hour traffic to Charlotte I also had CHALET passes AND PREFERRED Parking (plus Justine had to be somewhere at 2:30pm) so I hauled my cookies out of bed super early and met the ladies at the Taj Mah Teeter SBUX at 8:00am.

We were at Quail before 9 and we hightailed it straight to our Chalet which was situated right at the end of the 3rd Green in search of an early morning cocktail and breakfast. Sadly, food and drinks weren't going to be set up til 11am so we left the chalet, bought a beer like the rest of the non-chalet-accessing masses and went for a stroll and wound up walking most of the course, catching up at one point with Tiger and Peyton, and then we were back at the Chalet by 11 and we settled in for a comfortable afternoon of watching golf. And there was really better-than-Bojangles food and a lovely bartender named Keith who knew how to pour a proper plastic cup full of chardonnay i.e full (and mix a Bloody Mary – or so the girls told me) and comfy chairs and a warm breeze and it wasn't too hot and it wasn't too cold and it was, simply put, utterly divine and clearly the only way to do golf.

I even got to see Jimmie Johnson play through the hole (he was matched with last year’s Tourney winner Anthony Kim) and he totally shanked it to the right…so FYI 95% of everyone playing the hole shanked it to the right but Jimmie shanked it way more to the right than anyone else which really made me sad but then again, there really isn't a cuter golf-playing NASCAR driver anywhere so I guess it's ok…and plus he stopped to sign a zillion autographs afterwards so he's also like, the nicest golf-playing NASCAR driver anywhere too.

You know who didn't shank to the right? McCrory. But then he missed an easy putt and the crowd GASPED in horror (I even gasped out loud right along with them and then turned to Justine and said: “OMG. I am one of those gasping-golf people. How did this happen?”) But McCrory was a super sport about it and totally threw his hands up and slapped himself on the forehand like “WTF Pat?” and played to the crowd and then he made the putt the next time and everyone cheered and whooped like had had just beat Tiger at Augusta on the last hole of a play-off. Seriously.

So golf is good when it involves chalets and chardonnay and of course amazing friends and great weather and preferred parking and non-golf celebrities who I actually care about.

And now I realize that several of my last few posts have been all about fashion and wine and Pop Princesses and in general all-things-urban and that maybe you miss hearing about Dixie and the goats (so FYI Lucky totally escaped the pasture the other day and I have no idea how but goats modeling themselves after Houdini are never a good thing) and I am going right now to find a tractor pull or something to attend next week so I can get back in touch with my inner Country Girl.

And if that ain't country, I'll kiss your…


Justine said...

Wow. I love having my day chronicled. Awesome, awesome, awesome.

Mr Farty said...

"like I have time to teach a goat about Twitter" - if that ain't country...