A few month's ago. M-UNIT came up with the idea of going on a golf weekend. And here I am at 748 in the morning in a hotel in PA, Mike found a place sort of half way, between our homes. So at six fifteen in morning I hit the road. At that time you can get through Manhattan in no time at all. I had a very Tony Soprano moment coming through the Lincoln tunnel, with an ugly shirt on, and a dead body in the trunk.
So I drive and drive. At one point I stop at McD's for some breakfast and directions. All I got were blank stares. I probably looked and sounded like an obnoxious New Yorker. After dealing with another idiot who works at the hotel, but can’t assure my directions I get here. Mike got here a couple of minutes later. We checked in and headed out to the course.
It was really nice out there. A little soggy, but nice. Being so out of practice, I sucked. But Mike gave me a good tip, I started hitting better but my aim is off. After posting a robust 69(On the front nine and a 67 on the back) we grabbed some lunch and went up to our room, turned on the British open, and proceeded to fall asleep.
Over the next few days I adjusted my swing quite a bit, but I am so out of practice. There were times out there I was thinking why am I even out here wasting my money. But it’s a good time to spend time with Mike, who I don’t get to see as much anymore. And all three courses we played were beautiful. Especially the last two.
I know there was a small airport near Pottstown, but all those small planes flying over head, and not too far from the Nuclear plant, was freaking me out. Yeah that’s why I couldn’t hit.
Other than the fiasco with the golf, I had a really fun time. I needed a new golf glove, so before we went to the movies we went to an un-named national department store. And this place had all the clichés … toothless guys, big fat women in worn out tights, women with big ugly tattoos, inappropriate short short usage, and abundance of NASCAR and Stone Cold Steve Austin t-shirts and the topper a “live bait” machine outside next to the soda machine. If I had brought my camera with me at this point there would be a shot of it. Or if I had some change I would have seen what was in that machine.
The next day when we went to the course we noticed a driving range/batting cage facility right outside the course. So why not. We went to the cages, and I realized I couldn’t get around on an even moderately quick baseball. I could hit the softball fine. But when we were in the baseball cage (thankfully the slow pitch) I was hanging all over the plate, since all the pitches were coming in low and outside. Here comes the first pitch high and inside, I try to get out of the way and the ball hits me flush on the hand. For several days there was a cut that was the same shape as the baseball. Much like Ani’s on her ankle after the Brooklyn Cyclones game. This would not be the only injury of the weekend.
So afterwards we get back on the road, and with the trusty GPS head towards Reading PA, for some Chinese food and possible some outlet shopping. The Amazing Wok was anything but amazing. We couldn’t find the big outlets, but we did pass by the hospital that Rachel was born in. Later on we head out the “Zern’s” a country market that was much like a dryer version of Pikes Place in Seattle. We pick up some shoofly pies, which were very sweet—I’m not sure I’ll have it again but it was neat trying something new. And if you’re in Pottstown, you know you’re at Zern’s when you see the smiling Amish man and the giant metal cock.
To finish getting the Pottstown experience, we frightened a woman who was sitting with her foot up on the dashboard of a minivan, which Mike came nowhere close to jack-knifing. Mike didn’t see it, but we nearly went off the road after my description of it. A local must have is one of Rita’s ices. So we headed down this long and hilly road to Rita’s. When we get there I have Raspberry Lemonade and Mike goes with the Watermelon. It was raining pretty hard and we were reminiscing. It was a good time.
Afterwards we headed back to the hotel, we had another round of golf ahead of us and then long drives. So here comes injury number two. There was this small hill, Mike hands me his camera and says catch him jumping off the hill. 30 isn’t as young as it should be. So Mike gets lots of air and comes crashing down on his non-driving ankle. He walked with a little bit of a limp for the rest of the day. We finished up and to top off a day of frustration I tossed the ball I was playing, perhaps a “top flite” into a cool flowing stream that ran behind the green and under a tunnel they built. We grabbed a quick lunch and checked out of the hotel. We both packed up our cars, clubs, overnight bags shoofly pie, and I headed north he headed back south. I stopped and picked up some local peppers, and I flew back to the PA turnpike. Then on I-78 I made up at least 45 minutes on my time getting there a few days earlier. But then it hit. As I got to the Jersey Turnpike traffic, traffic everywhere. As I get to the approach of the Holland Tunnel, same story. But soon (2 hours later) I was back in Queens. I picked up Ani and Mom’s house where we walked Ripley, and exhausted we headed home and called it a night.
I'm not sure if I would trust this man
Mike showing classic signs of OCD.
Three Mile Island ... the view from our hotel
For more photos check out Pottstown in my Yahoo Pictures