SHE DOESN'T LOOK DANGEROUS

Under a bucket golf hat. Of course, color coordinated with her golf outfit. Sometimes, she even matches the color of her golf ball with what she's wearing, but not yesterday. It was humid. She was warming.

We had waited. Unmercifully. While the foresome in front of us played staggeringly slow. We had waited on every shot while they allowed the foresome in front of them to complete the hole before they teed off. For awhile we thought they thought it was cart path only. Then we decided they were just plain dumb. That's a collective we; I had ascertained that before we teed off on Number 1.

We had caught them on hole 4, a par three. It would have been so easy for them to allow us to play through. They didn't. Ditto, hole 5, a par four. So we waited and waited and watched as the oldest in the group took off walking and walking before he gave up on his shot out of bounds and walked (emphasis on slow, not my redundance) to the middle of the fairway to hit his second shot on number 6. On another hole, the other male in the foresome took off his socks and shoes to retrieve a ball in murky water.

More slow play on number nine, when they stopped their cart in the middle of the fairway 200 yards out. Unphased, my wife hits a monstrous drive past them. I expected a look over the shoulder, but they may have been so oblivious to everything that they didn't see how close to death they could have been. My wife's comment, "I didn't see them stop. And it was an exceptionally good shot."

My response,"That's just what I think when someone hits into me: that was an exceptionally good shot." She let it pass. Fortunately for me, because sometime I might just be ahead of her in the fairway when she decided to hit another exceptional shot. Probably not. I did say fairway, didn't I?