What's Behind The Story

I played 18 holes the other day at the local muni. Arriving as a single, I was paired with a man and his daughter. He was 74, I learned, while she seemed maybe light to mid 30's. Quite attractive she was, too, and a player on our regional women's hockey team that won the Nationals in California in 199-something. But that is not the story.

They left after 9, so I played on as a two-ball with a fellow who had joined us three on the 6th tee. As play had slowed down after the temperature had spiked up, he begged off at the 13th tee, and I found myself suddenly alone. On an empty course, this can be fun; but when the track is jammed, playing alone destroys rhythm. For some time I’d been absently tracking two ladies, visibly more than a little older than I, laboring onward slowly two holes ahead. Well, soon they were hitting their "second" shots on #14 just beyond where my drive landed, center cut and 14 paces inside the 150 yard marker on this 390 yard hole. Incredibly, that is not the story, either.

I hailed the ladies and asked them politely if I could play in with them. Apparently approving of the young stud hottie, they said yes. And after a time, we putted out on the 18th and said farewell. Here is the story: I noticed one lady had a distracting bit of extraneous clothing waving about. I tried not to stare; and I certainly wasn't about to say anything. She was wearing white golf pants, which made a positive ID more difficult. But the disturbing image that lingers still is the TP flapping about 8" above, beyond and behind her elastic waist band.