Whoa, what? Was that a challenge? Maybe I should put my drink down and start strategizing. As I've mentioned before, I can be a bit competitive.
However, this wasn't running, biking or swimming, the athletics I actually know and perform daily. This was a whole different kind of game. This was … mini golf.
To prepare for our competition, the six of us met at my friend's downtown apartment. Obviously, carbo-loading and hydration were necessary.
For carbs, we had chips with barbeque dip or hummus as well as bruschetta and dough balls (Hey, peanut butter has protein). As for hydration, the choices were Whipped Cream vodka, the "blue drink" (Bacardi Hurricane) and "the pink drink” (a sweet tea vodka and crystal light combination).
Pitchers in hand, we climbed up to the roof – which offers a gorgeous view of the city – to enjoy the weather of late summer.
Once seated at the picnic table, one of the guys pulled out a fifth of Bacardi 151. "Who wants shots?" he asked, as he started pouring liquor into dixie cups.
Although I was egged on, I declined, as I decided mixing 151 and golf clubs wasn't the best idea for someone like me.
After two and a half hours of "hydrating," dusk was starting to fall, so we used our walk over to City Island to warm up. I was teamed up with Katy and Brandon, and I called dibs on the green ball.
My lack of coordination was immediately evident during the first hole, as I swung and missed the ball. For my next attempt, my club did make contact with the ball, only to have the ball roll back to me. Finally, I got the ball near the area it should be in. Several strokes later, I was not doing much better, as the ball kept missing the cup by a few inches. After about 14 strokes and a bit of nudging, my ball finally landed in the hole. I raised my hands in victory.
"How many strokes did that one take you?" asked our scorekeeper, Brandon.
"Three!" I called back. Hey, drinks were at stake.
At the third hole, I hit my ball into the pond. I fished it out, swung and promptly hit it directly back into the water.
I was trying to be a good sport, but … this was going to be a long 18 holes.
On the fifth hole I sprawled out on the green, attempted to "get a better angle." This also was unsuccessful. However, the scorecard showed I shot a two on this hole.
After hole 7, we agreed to call it quits at the halfway point. It was getting dark, and most of us (okay, the girls) were antsy to get to the bar. Also, due to our happy hour(s), it was taking us a very long time to play, and the course closes at 10 p.m. on weeknights.
After a time-consuming ninth hole, we skipped through to the 18th hole. I gave my ball a good whack, and where did it go? Straight into the pond. Again.
Off we strode to The Brick Haus for our hard-earned celebratory drinks. Luckily, I was a contributing factor to the winning team, so my "strong and delicious" drink was not on my tab.
It was a cute course, and for someone who has coordination, I bet it would be even more fun. On the other hand, all you other klutzes out there? Maybe we can just go straight to the bar.