Badass of the Week
I texted this to Eli 20.0 today about our public golf course:Trails: a grown-ass man with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles headcover.
That's what Trails is like, a wonderful collection of funky people who are wildly divergent and entirely pleasant.
We all know each other. Not by name, necessarily, but the people who are out there often all recognize each other. We'll chat sometimes, or just wave as we're passing by.
Today, I was on the sixth tee, with a backup ahead of me, and I looked back on the fifth green and saw an older woman I've spoken to before. She's about seventy, I guess, and she was walking with a push cart and an umbrella.
Respect.
It was hot as hell today on the course, with a heat index in the high 90s, and anybody still walking deserves full marks. I asked her if she wanted to play the last few holes together, because we weren't going anywhere, so we walked and talked for the last three holes.
She was walking eighteen, unlike the wimp who was only doing nine (me). And she was a solid golfer, particularly for her age.
We finished the ninth hole, and she went over to the back to continue being a badass, while I took my soaked shirt (humidity at a mathematically impossible percentage) and went home happy.
Trails. A place where you usually leave a little happier than when you came.
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