Golf season is coming to an end; it’s been a good ride following Tiger, Phil and Jason Dufner around the links this year.
The Masters, the Open, the ordinary steak dinner golf outing, it’s all about just being one with nature, hitting a little white ball, chasing it, sipping beer, getting back in the golf cart and doing it all over again.
But I digress.
As I get older, the rigors of drinking beer and driving a golf cart are beginning to tax on me. Rule number 1, when impaired and driving a golf cart and you see two trees in front of you, do not try to steer the golf cart between them. After coming home with muscles that I haven’t used in a while aching and blisters on my hands, my love for the games has diminished.
So I’ve discovered the alternative. Miniature golf.
Born in Sweden in 1912, the games have attracted millions using only one golf ball and one club. No spikes, no glove, no two-hundred pound bag of 13 clubs that I can’t hit anyway.
Only majestic, manicured greens with windmills, plaster of Paris, Mt. Rushmore’s and jumping King Kongs. Add a cheap snack bar, a pretty girl and it’s…Date night!
You can find these miniature golf havens of ecstasy anywhere across the land. From Myrtle Beach, to Branson, Missouri to Panama City Beach to the Wisconsin Dells and Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. They’re everywhere.
But what to eat while putt putting? Sure, they have hot dogs on warming rollers under a heat lamp and stale nachos with cheese coming out of a molten fountain dispenser that hasn’t been washed out for a while. They also offer Slushies from a Kwik-E-Mart machine or boxed candy at movie theater prices.
No, I’ve come up with a miniature golf menu that will guarantee par.
Check out the list everybody.
“You the man!”