I did something Saturday that I have firmly promised myself not ever to do again.

I’m certain enough of it that I’m bringing my deed to the light, and public testimony, so you can help me if you ever see me falling into that trap once more.

One of the sweet daughters was suffering a severe toothache.  Her new hubby needed to get a few more hours in to pay the bills, so the good wife and I offered to find a dentist open on Saturday and take her there.

It so happened that the dentist office she was to visit was very near a disc golf course I hadn’t yet played.

And there was a reason I hadn’t played it.  It was situated squarely on a college campus, and even more squarely amidst the dormitories. 

I got myself over there with courage in my heart.

I chose, for starters, a very windy day to make this first attempt on the course.  That way, if I bombed out, I’d have the wind to blame for all my problems.

My scorecard says the wind was 16 m.p.h.  That might have been what it was blowing when it was the calmest.  I’d say it was closer to 25 m.p.h.

I walked into the first tee with great expectations.  I had this, I told myself.  Forget all the peeping toms.  Hey, even then I saw some window blinds being raised and, I’m sure, looks of incredulity slowly spreading across drool-stained faces that were just then getting out of bed at that late hour.

I grabbed “My Man,” gave him a few words of encouragement, and hucked him on his way straight into the wind.  He must have seen some pretty damsel looking out at him, up there so high in the sky, and decided to put on his best show.  He arced up and away, hit some major turbulence and floated up higher yet, threatening to come back at me.  But he found a hole in all that wind, dived through it and continued on for what seemed an amazing amount of distance against all odds.  I was two over on that hole, but seeing it was the first hole and I was dealing with jitters, not bad.

Hole 2 was across the corner of some horse pens.  I would be throwing sideways to the wind so I aimed generally into the wind with the intention that it would float back again. 

It landed in the horse pen.  I think I heard some titters from the damsel as my man dinged himself up on the railing when he landed.  But I effortlessly tossed from the husks and even more effortlessly sank a 15 foot putt in all of that wind. 

I had this.

Number 3 had me throwing directly into the wind, straight towards a fair-sized pond.  My Man and I counseled on it and decided to throw for all we had, figuring the wind would knock us back from any water related despair.  My heart began to throw a rod when I saw that a large tree was blocking most of the wind, and My Man had no choice but to continue with the plan set in motion.  Until he crested the top of the tree, and the snow plume of Mt Everest caught him and knocked him back and down with a vengeance. 

Things took a while in my ticker to settle down and I ended up scoring badly on that hole.  And I think the damsel gave up on watching.

The next hole was quite sheltered, and I made par on it.

Five was exactly sideways to the wind, and just a across a small corner of the pond.  As sheltered as it was, I was good to go.  My Man took to the skies again for me—and saw another damsel.  That’s all I can figure out.  He broke confidence and spun wildly in the direction of the dormitory. 

Alas for him, and me, his endurance ran out before he could complete whatever mission he on and he splashed very ingloriously into the pond.  The fisherman he landed by seemed a little nonplussed about it all; I wasn’t too worried.  He had landed within a foot of the edge of the pond.  It was only as I made my way around to get him that I became alarmed at what the wind was doing to him.  By the time I got to him, he was 6 feet out and in 2 feet of water. 

The fisherman didn’t know what to think of me jogging right on out, nor of my gasp at the icy cold water, nor of my hasty fling in a most unorthodox manner towards no point in particular. 

Let’s just say things sort of went downhill from there, even though it was uphill to the next basket. 

Because, it was about then I started noticing all the security cameras.  I can’t guarantee they swiveled and tracked my movements, but they sure seemed to be aimed directly at me when I looked at them.

And about then a huge party of college kids, in party mode, were migrating from one dormitory to the other.  I don’t think I could have blended into the scenery if I had tried. Something about my white beard and pudgy belly seems to flaunt themselves in such situations.

Regardless, I told myself I still had a chance at this.  I was in a sheltered area and got ready to set up for my next throw.  Then I saw the party goers peering out at me from the dormitory they had just entered, and my confidence waned decidedly. 

By then, I had switched over to My Sweetie.  She hadn’t done too badly, but after the confidence buster she plowed the dirt directly in front of me. 

As I approached hole 18, I couldn’t help but be honest with myself.  I could tell my throws weren’t reaching very far anymore, and I was pretty sure it was because my morale had slipped.

So, looking over the prospects of 18, it appeared to be a simple save face operation.  A straight shot, with wind, and no obstacles. 

I got started with my x step and as I arced back around, saw the camera peering, or leering, directly at me.  And it was a HUGE camera.

My Sweetie torqued off at a right angle to the wind and direction of 18.  I consoled myself that the wind, which was now gusting ferociously, would bring her back. 

But now it was her time to turn traitor on me, having crushed out desperately on a black Mustang far away in the parking lot.  She landed, and flirtatiously sashayed towards him.  He was having nothing of it and bumped her off the instant she got close. 

She did the typical woman thing and pirouetted to the black Optima just beside to try the jealousy trick.  Her trick wasn’t so well thought out with all the momentum she carried, and I lost sight of her entirely for a while as she rolled under, and out the other side. 

My self-worth hit zero when I saw how far she had rolled out.  I picked her up and turned around to the daunting task of getting her back up and over not only two rows of cars, but the several hundred feet over to the basket.

I slouched off the course, away from all the cameras and hunkered down into my car with a sigh of never again. 

Like I said at the start of this, “Never again.”  I’ve had scores before, the shades of which I dared not share.  This one topped them all.

Written for the other sweet daughter, at whom we drowned ourselves laughing over, when she plastered the tree right in front of her. She can laugh at me now.