The Bangkok Fore

To those looking for substance I apologize and forewarn, you won’t find it in this journal entry. It contains little to no information about Thailand. But it was a fun getaway and something I’ve wanted to write about for a while:
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I’m on a ship in the middle of a city. It somehow seems rational to me that the water and buildings coexist, I must be in Venice. What is certain is that the weather is turning ugly. Tornado-like water spouts are approaching our boat, threatening to tear it apart. These tornadoes sweep through building after building, destroying everything they contact. Is it my imagination or is that tornado wielding a sword… it is, I think.. it’s also not a tornado at all, rather a Tazmanian like female warrior. All the tornados are women.. angry, angry women… looking for me… good Lord I need to wake up!

A cool hand on my sweat-soaked shoulder shakes me awake (try saying that 5 times), a soft angelic voice tells me it’s time. As my disintegrating boat slowly transforms itself into a sleeper sofa, the tornado fades into the smiling face of our host, Mrs. Renee Dragon, quite possibly God's most perfect creation.. (lucky Marek)

A rustling in the bed room tells me my friends have been stirred from slumber as well. We arrived at 1:00 this morning, it’s now 4:30, and as the overhead light flickers on, I know my rest is over.

I stumble into the kitchen for a glass of water, and run into Dr. Guschel, otherwise known as Pete. By all appearances he is still asleep, but he has managed to locate the bagels and cream cheese..

To give a short introduction: Pete and Greg are good friends and former colleagues of mine from Singapore. Pete is a polymer scientist and Greg is the business development manager. The original odd couple, Pete is a sweet guy who tries to make everyone laugh, and Greg is an self proclaimed elitist jerk and the ultimate “guy’s guy.” Combined, they form an entity that is never boring, hence the reason they are two of my closest friends.
20 minutes later, Pete, Greg and I emerge into the still dark alley, the sun having had the good judgment to stay in bed for another hour. Pete tries to say something funny, as he is prone to do, Greg and I swear under our breaths and continue trudging into the blackness. A Tuk Tuk passes, it’s driver seems startled for a moment to find three western guys walking around with golf clubs at this time in the morning.

We meet our driver for the day and an hour and a half later we arrive at the course; the sun has grudgingly decided to join us. We meet our caddies and as only Thailand can offer, they are all female, and, to my relief, are wielding golf clubs, rather than swords, and are doing very little spinning. The entertainment value of this outing has just increased dramatically.
Still fighting the sandman, we groggily step up to the first tee. A few moments later, it is painfully evident that this is going to be a very long day. Greg, a former golfer for George Washington University, has managed to find the center of the fairway, I’ve sliced my ball into another country and Pete only needs to walk a few feet before having an opportunity to hit again. Our cadies have already started rolling their eyes.
Pete seems to be deteriorating with each swing, I don’t know if it’s the rapidly increasing heat or the 2.5 hrs sleep, but it’s not long before we notice that he has disappeared all together. He emerges from the woods a few minutes later, where he has just finished tossing his cookies.. or more accurately, cream-cheese bagels. Gradually Pete recovers and as the game wears on I begin to feel much better. A few snacks at the turn and we tackle the back nine. We come to a water hazard and discover Thailand’s version of a ball retriever.
When the game ends, and we are tipping our caddies, the caddie asks for Greg's number. Being a happily involved man, he did not give his number, so how she managed to find his number written on a piece of paper slipped in amongst the generous gratuity is a matter of speculation. (I certainly would be above such chicanery)
We enjoy a great lunch at the club house, summon our driver and head back to Bankok. Greg and Pete are asleep before we leave the parking lot.
After a quick shower, we decide that a good massage is in order so we walk down the street to the day spa. When we walk in, we are served a relaxing cock-tail and then usured to the private massage rooms where we shower again and wait for the masseurs. The manager comes in and asks if we want “pretty or professional”, I don’t have to tell you which one I choose, but as my face is buried in a pillow, it ultimately wouldn’t have made a difference. (save the fact I may have settled for an inferior rub down)

Later that night we went to dinner with Marek and his wife to celebrate Marek’s birthday. After dinner and drinks Marek and Renee returned home and the three of us pile into a Tuk Tuk to explore Bangkok. Our driver is a bit too happy to have our combined weight shifting his center of gravity and is doing wheelies when leaving every red light.
Later, I see the familiar faces of some of my fellow exchange student friends from Hong Kong. Talk about a small world. We take them to a local club, and Greg, being the generous benefactor that he is, hands me his wallet and says, “Take care of your friends.” This is just one of many times that Greg has shown extreme generosity to my friends and I, including flying me to Singapore last summer. I hope that one day I’ll be able to repay his kindness, but for now, as he loves to point out, I bring absolutely nothing to the table.

We make it home around 2:30 in the morning completely exhausted. It’s a good thing we don’t have to get up in 4 hours to play another round of golf.

It’s 6:30 in the morning when we pull out of the garage in Mareks suv with three golfers, two sets of clubs and one brutal hangover. It’s after 9:00 when we arrive at the Presidents Country Club. We were lost for half of the drive trying to find the place. Marek stops the suv along the curb so Greg and I can unload the clubs. My day gets off to a bad start as I step out of the suv and directly into the narrow edge of a street sign. My momentum caries my collapsing body onto the course lawn to the great amusement of Greg, Marek and the morning congress of giggling caddies…. I've said it before, this is going to be a very long day.

Because of our late start, the heat is much more intense than the day before, and by the 15th hole, the sun, exhaustion and malted barley have claimed their first victim.
Much like a drowning man coming up for a last gasp of air, Greg wakes up one hole later and wins the closest to pin contest with a birdie par three, gives the winnings to his caddie and “sleeps” through the last two holes.

As I’m turning in my rented golf clubs, a familiar voice crackles over the golf courses PA system.. “Ladies and Shenelmen, thank you fr letting me enjoy your beautiful golf coursh. (unintelligible garble) I’m Greg Kroll and I’m out.” I’m not sure how Greg got a hold of the microphone, but I’m fairly certain the grinning security guard standing beside him will be demoted to Ball Washer before the sun sets.

As my plane lifts off the ground the next morning, I breath a sigh of relief. I’m happy to be returning to school, I need the rest.