Tis the Season

Tis the Season
by A Chip in Time
 
It wasn't until after a lackluster round at a nondescript Central Valley course that things got interesting.  Bill Feeley suggested we all go to lunch at a place he used to go to when he was in the army.  "It's just a few minutes and you guys won't believe it",  he said.  
 
An hour and three dirt roads later we arrived at a place that might have been in a John Wayne movie.  It had a sagging balcony, wood slate sidewalks and swinging doors.  From the back or the bus, Art Klein yelled, "how long were you in the calvary, Bill"?
 
The food's good but wait til you see the floor show, he said. The head shakes were almost audible as we filed off the bus into either a rustically quaint or a recently condemned saloon.  When we entered, a silence fell over the room.  It was not because we were outsiders with FootJoys, but because the room was empty.  "Are you kidding me, asked Keith Gonsalves, even the bar has dust on it."
 
Just wait, answered Bill, you'll see.  As if on queue, waiters and bartenders came out of the woodwork.  Somewhere a band began to warm up.  This dump came to life.  Food was served and beer was poured and morale improved.
 
On stage, a tattered curtain pulled apart revealing an elderly lady in a peasant skirt and castanets.  Feeley was again rained on with insults.  "If a horse comes on stage, we are leaving you here, Bill", said Dave McNeily.  "If she's a stripper, I'm going to puke", said Sid.
 
The music started and her hips began to move to a carnivale rhythm.  Her castanets tapped out a frantic Latin beat.  The faster they played, the faster she moved.  She was transformed in the music, lost in a personal fountain of youth.
 
When she was finished, the group was slack jawed and amazed. What just happened, we all wanted to know.  "We were just reminded to complain less and enjoy the game more", said Pete Katsumis.

Welcome to Golf Season!