On the third hole at the beautiful Ocean Course at the Omni Resort on famous Hilton Head Island, Kelly whispers to his long time golf buddy and cart partner, “hey Sammy, I hope you don’t mind, but I need a piece of that raggedy old golf towel you have on your bag.”
Sammy gives Kelly a sideways look and says, “what’s up Bud? Why do you need a piece of my old towel?”
Kelly takes a deep breath, doubles over just a bit as another cramp hits, and says with a pained look in his eyes, “that Low Country food we ate last night is going right through me. I need a piece of that towel. NOW!!! I just hope I can make it to those bushes over there. Hurry up, tear me off a piece of that damn towel.”
As Sammy is busy ripping off a strip of his dirty old towel, he grins at Kelly and says, “I don’t suppose that those three martinis and that bottle of $50 Cabernet helped much either.”
Little Eddie, his big belly barely fitting beneath the steering wheel, and Roger are in the other cart observing this whole procedure trying to figure out, what exactly was going on. They watched as Kelly waddled pigeon-toed into the brush, with his knees together and his cheeks pinched tight; the strip of white towel, clutched securely in his left hand, fluttering in the soft ocean breeze like a flag of surrender. Little Eddie and Roger looked at each other and knew the answer. Little Eddie his eyes shifted back to Kelly’s path into the brush, says, “I knew that rich Low Country food would get to him. Kelly gets a few drinks in him and he forgets that his stomach likes only the bland stuff.”
Kelly exits the brush with a smile looking like a new man, as he secures the belt on his Izod linen shorts. The group makes it through the fourth and the fifth and were ready to hit their tee shots to the water guarded, but very open (no trees or brush around), par-3, sixth when Kelly looks at Sammy and says with a panicked look on his face, “hey buddy better tear me off another piece of that towel, I don’t think I can make it to those trees near the seventh tee.” With a knowing look on his face, the Godfather of Kelly’s second son, shreds the towel into another substantial strip and hands it to his buddy in need.
As Kelly walks out of the Pygmy Palms he notices Little Eddie sitting on the cart seat with both hands holding his big belly. His face is red and Little Eddie is obviously trying to say something, but every time he tries to speak he just squeaks and snorts. All are now watching their friend who is laughing harder as he tries to speak. Little Eddie now has tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks as he is still trying to finish the sentence that starts, “hey.. hey.. Kell.. hey.. Kell.”
The indignant Kelly barks at Little Eddie, “what’s so damn funny? Why don’t you finish what you are trying to say so we can hit our tee shots?”
Now Little Eddie is laughing uncontrollably and his huge gut is bouncing with each abbreviated breath, gasping for air as he is still trying to finish the thought that is stuck in his mind but that he can’t get out of his mouth. Finally Little Eddie wheezes and stutters to Kelly, “hey… Kelly, (snort, snort) you better start, (snort, wheeze, snort) tearing that towel in smaller pieces, (wheeze, wheeze) this is only the seven hole.”
Now, Roger and Sammy are caught up in the scene that is too funny for words: Kelly with the “trots.” Little Eddie laughing uncontrollably at his own joke.
To say that the golf course will never be the same might be an under statement, but the round of golf they shared that day at Hilton Head will last forever in the minds of those four good friends.
