Okay, first off, I'm really not a huge golf fan. Hubby used to play, but hasn't had a chance to get to a course or range in the ten years we've been here in Fresno. But he wanted to be able to say he'd been to a US Open. And he wanted my company. I figured that if I saw one guy hit one golf ball, I'd be satisfied. So off we went!
We know someone working in security (Hubby's sister's beau) who left us two "will call" tickets for the day. One three hour drive and an hour for the shuttle wait and ride, and we're at the US Open.
TONS of people. I haven't seen so many white people in one place in I don't know how long. First stop: port-a-potties. It was a along drive and the line was short. Get the tickets, look at the vastly over-priced clothing and accessories, and get something to eat. Over-priced hamburger that tastes okay and a bottle of coke for $13.
We make our way to the first tee and wait a while. On come three guys--boom, boom, boom, they swing and walk past us. How exciting. Wait a while and three more guys come along. Repeat. Wait some more, and suddenly the crowd multiplies.
There's hundreds on hundreds of people there! Naturally, the next group up is someone famouse. It's Tiger Woods and Ernie Els and someone else whose name I don't remember, but Hubby says he's a good golfer. Boom, boom, boom, they swing and walk past us. Tiger is having a very bad day. Nobody makes any comments to him about his troubles--of the game or his life.
Hubby and I decide to wander around. We walk here and there, watch more people whose names I don't know (Hubby hadn't heard of them either) sink putts. Oops! Run into the Tiger crowd again. See him hit the golf ball and as he goes one direction, we head the other. We didn't walk the whole course. I offered, Hubby didn't want to. So we make our way back to the start and watch a bit on the big screen and have something to eat.
We talk with a lady who works in the merchandise area. She says the stuff is available cheaper online and can't believe people spending $2000 and more on some of the stuff. I show her what I bought--a 2010 US Open golf ball in a pretty little box. This is for our friend who likes golf a bit and we're to meet up with next month. I get the ball signed by Mark O'Meara, even though he didn't play in the tournament. Hubby didn't even want a shirt or cap.
We're tired. Fat, old, and woefully out of shape. So Hubby gets a little tv-ish device from Amex to watch all the channels showing the Open while we sit on the grass and I try to study for the Bar. Tiger must've finished by then because all these people start leaving. We see women/girls wearing the most outlandish high-heeled shoes coming into the area. They're not blond and Tiger's gone anyway, so they're likely wasting their time.
Hubby's sister finds us (somehow!) and we just sit to wait for her beau's shift to finish. We meet up with him and watch the driving range a while, then go out to eat at a great little Italian place in Pacific Grove. Back to our cars and it's time to face traffic home, my sister-in-law following us. But she hangs back really far, cause she hates driving freeways. So Hubby can't drive at regular speeds and has to stay behind slow trucks, because she won't pass the damn things. Our drive home takes an extra 45 minutes because of this. (I hate it when people say "I'll follow you" and then don't stay up.)
Hubby got be at a US Open and we saw Tiger Woods hit a golf ball. And we got wind-burned and pink.
We know someone working in security (Hubby's sister's beau) who left us two "will call" tickets for the day. One three hour drive and an hour for the shuttle wait and ride, and we're at the US Open.
TONS of people. I haven't seen so many white people in one place in I don't know how long. First stop: port-a-potties. It was a along drive and the line was short. Get the tickets, look at the vastly over-priced clothing and accessories, and get something to eat. Over-priced hamburger that tastes okay and a bottle of coke for $13.
We make our way to the first tee and wait a while. On come three guys--boom, boom, boom, they swing and walk past us. How exciting. Wait a while and three more guys come along. Repeat. Wait some more, and suddenly the crowd multiplies.
There's hundreds on hundreds of people there! Naturally, the next group up is someone famouse. It's Tiger Woods and Ernie Els and someone else whose name I don't remember, but Hubby says he's a good golfer. Boom, boom, boom, they swing and walk past us. Tiger is having a very bad day. Nobody makes any comments to him about his troubles--of the game or his life.
Hubby and I decide to wander around. We walk here and there, watch more people whose names I don't know (Hubby hadn't heard of them either) sink putts. Oops! Run into the Tiger crowd again. See him hit the golf ball and as he goes one direction, we head the other. We didn't walk the whole course. I offered, Hubby didn't want to. So we make our way back to the start and watch a bit on the big screen and have something to eat.
We talk with a lady who works in the merchandise area. She says the stuff is available cheaper online and can't believe people spending $2000 and more on some of the stuff. I show her what I bought--a 2010 US Open golf ball in a pretty little box. This is for our friend who likes golf a bit and we're to meet up with next month. I get the ball signed by Mark O'Meara, even though he didn't play in the tournament. Hubby didn't even want a shirt or cap.
We're tired. Fat, old, and woefully out of shape. So Hubby gets a little tv-ish device from Amex to watch all the channels showing the Open while we sit on the grass and I try to study for the Bar. Tiger must've finished by then because all these people start leaving. We see women/girls wearing the most outlandish high-heeled shoes coming into the area. They're not blond and Tiger's gone anyway, so they're likely wasting their time.
Hubby's sister finds us (somehow!) and we just sit to wait for her beau's shift to finish. We meet up with him and watch the driving range a while, then go out to eat at a great little Italian place in Pacific Grove. Back to our cars and it's time to face traffic home, my sister-in-law following us. But she hangs back really far, cause she hates driving freeways. So Hubby can't drive at regular speeds and has to stay behind slow trucks, because she won't pass the damn things. Our drive home takes an extra 45 minutes because of this. (I hate it when people say "I'll follow you" and then don't stay up.)
Hubby got be at a US Open and we saw Tiger Woods hit a golf ball. And we got wind-burned and pink.
