I awoke with a dry mouth and a throbbing head. There is nothing like a Cuervo Gold hangover!!! I thought. Why did I make that 7:45 AM tee time!! So we could play 36 holes, now that was really stupid! That fat-assed Barry, who usually never drinks, really got drunk! I made the reservations and it is my credit card that will be charged if we no-show. SHIT! Why did I do this?
“Hey Berry, drink a little of this coffee, you will feel better,” I said as I held his head up trying to get him to swallow a mouth-full. Barry got a good whiff of the coffee and turned that pale shade of green then rolled to the other side of the bed….. and puked!
The other two in the guys’ golf weekend foursome were out of bed, but not in much better shape than Barry. They were up, but moving very slowly, and I knew that the breakfast makings were never going to be used. “Help me get Barry into the shower; we tee off in 35 minutes.”
“Hey Barry, don’t worry about drying your hair. We tee off in ten minutes, just put on your new U.S. Open hat, and oh yea, leave a $20 bill on your bed for the maid who has to clean up your mess.”
“You guys hustle into the pro shop and get us checked in and the carts loaded up while I get us some hangover medicine.” I also pick up four big, warm, freshly baked, cinnamon rolls with the thick white sugary frosting.
“Ok guys, I got two bloodies and two screwdrivers who wants which? Barry, just hit the damn thing, we are late and the starter looks pissed.” As we headed into the right rough, Barry was trying to eat his sweet roll and wash it down with vodka laced orange juice. “Feeling better?” I asked as I pulled up to the new Top Flite, a gift from his wife, that was next to the out of bounds marker. Barry just rolled his eyes and grabbed his 5-rescue and wiped the gooey white frosting on his towel.
As we sat on the third tee, a tree-lined beauty surrounded by brush on three sides, waiting for the foursome ahead to clear the green (whew, we had caught up) the medicine was starting to work and we were all feeling better, even Barry. Since it took Barry longer to play, we were making him hit first. As he leaned over to tee-up the final in the sleeve of new Top Flite, he whispered, “what’s that rustling in the brush over there?” He stood very still. No one uttered a sound as we tried to hear what Barry had heard.
Suddenly from the woods to the right of the tee came a skunk with its head covered with a tin can. Barry jumped back a few paces as the skunk sensed danger and raised its tail to warn-off any would be attacker. The skunk and Barry stood perfectly still! The skunk lowered his tail and pushed frantically at the can with its right front paw. The frightened Barry took a step toward the cart and the skunk raised its tail. Another step from Barry and the skunk turned its tail end toward the sound – directly at Barry.
I screamed, “Run like hell Barry he is going to spray you!” As Barry’s second step hit the ground the skunk let go!
Barry almost made it, avoiding most of the misty blast, as the putrid smell immediately settled over the entire tee. We watched as the blind skunk disappeared back into the woods with the tin can still on his head. The hung-over Barry grabbed his towel and tried in vain to wipe the oily mist off his right ankle…. as he dry-heaved a few times.
We skipped the third hole and made Barry ride by himself.
On the fifth tee the ranger started to scold us for riding three on the cart until he smelled Barry and understood what happened. He told us that he would have some tomato juice waiting for Barry at the turn. “Tomato juice is the one thing that will provide some relief to skunk smell.” Then he proceeded to the third tee to move the tees up to the front tee where players would only have to drive through the worst smell in nature.
The following year Barry’s wife informed us that Barry was busy on the golf weekend!
