Driving Range

On the weekend I went to one of those driving range places with some guys. I have never done anything like that, so it was kind of fun. I had to put aside the negative connotations that golf has for me. When I was a kid, my brother would invite me to come with him to play golf, and I would excitedly say yes. Who doesn't want to do stuff with their big brother? When it was too late, I would discover that 'playing golf' meant that my brother would play golf, and I would lug around his clubs for several hours in the hot sun, occasionally being rewarded with a 'practice shot'.

Anyhow, it was fun, this driving range thing. You just get a bunch of balls and basically belt them around the place. I was kind of crap at it, but what made the experience a lot better was that there was a guy next to me, all dressed in golfy clothes and trendy sunnies, who sucked a whole lot more than me. He would wallop his balls with so much angst and frustration, with his fancy clubs, and every ball would fly off at a stupid angle, about twenty metres.

There is a lot of simple pleasure to be derived from knowing that there is someone worse at something than you.