Some have actually called it “Deathpage”, the Black course at Bethpage being one of the most intimidating golf courses in the world. As rain continues to pound the course the great players at the US Open might as well use a sailboat to get from one hole to the other.
At the crack of dawn we drove to Farmingdale College Lot E for our 6 am charity assignment at the 18th hole concessions tent. It was relatively dry when we started out but could I trust those meteorologists predicting it “could be better today than yesterday”? And you mean what? We’ve seen a deluge of water for who knows how long that all sorts of fungi already make up the fauna (or is it flora) of our region. Toadstools sure look like plants to me or umbrellas?
At the crack of dawn we drove to Farmingdale College Lot E for our 6 am charity assignment at the 18th hole concessions tent. It was relatively dry when we started out but could I trust those meteorologists predicting it “could be better today than yesterday”? And you mean what? We’ve seen a deluge of water for who knows how long that all sorts of fungi already make up the fauna (or is it flora) of our region. Toadstools sure look like plants to me or umbrellas?
It was early enough when we got to the College where we parked and hopped on the shuttle to Bethpage. Flaunting our volunteer credentials (one could easily drop $100 a piece for a ticket) we sailed through the gate without any hassle. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Water must’ve pelted the area, but now the place stunk of manure as we walked on hay over mud; galoshes would’ve been in order. Did I mention that I left my polka-dotted rubber boots at home? Good place for it huh?
After a few guesses and detours, we found the tent; actually we heard Judy’s voice coming from behind one of the closed tents. Aha! There they were, four early birds ready to get to work. We got inside to meet Josh the banquet manager and what I saw was enough to inspire a full blown anxiety attack. A mess. Get me a paper bag now quick!
After a few intros, sign-in and brief orientation we donned our aprons over our khaki and white uniforms and started hard labor. Cashier? Runner? Condiments? Griller? Dog and bun assembly? Beer pourer? I chose to be a runner, but little did I know I would be needing roller skates. Josh saw the potential in me and in this mad, mad world of multitasking, he added the condiments stand to the task list. Okay, I’m not getting a performance evaluation after this am I? Good, so you 're getting what you got.
About 7 am the tent drapes were drawn and tada! With a sold-out event, we should expect a huge crowd. Coffee? No, we’re not serving that here, so I had to quickly learn how to give directions to the (Holy) Grill where they sell everything. Hot dogs? Too early. But hey, eat healthy, so why not have a banana or an apple? And that worked - by noontime we’re all out of bananas. My small contribution to health care.
Poor Carol and Dorothy were thrown to the dogs. Nathan’s best but can you wrap 500 in five minutes? Fast paced assembly line wasn’t fast enough for Josh I had to lend a hand. Boy did I learn some wrapping techniques quickly. Sheila's and Maria’s fingers were flying on the registers and Judy kept busy as runner behind them.
Josh would gently remind me of the condiments. I’m on top of it, man. They don’t call me QC (Queen of Condiments) for nothing. Between sweeping the water off the platform and robotically restocking the brownies, cool drinks, fruits and the infamous condiments (jars or gallons of ketchup and mustard), I timed my breaks such that I was able to watch Tiger and Phil, separately of course, finish off at the 18th hole. That was the highlight of my 8-hour duty.
I was smitten by Phil, the sentimental favorite. What a nice guy. Two feet away from me walking towards the clubhouse, he promised to sign autographs after he’s done with his scorecard. It must be hard for him as he endures the pain of watching Amy battle breast cancer.
The big cheers came around 11 am, beer is served! The long line kept the young and pretty Casey busy, what with all the wise guys trying to get her number. She drew a beer crowd and PROM Caterers made a killing at $6.00 a glass. Her father Brian couldn’t hide the foam around his mouth and as a volunteer he’s not even supposed to drink beer. What about the 3 hot dogs he easily gobbled down at breakfast? At the steep prices of eats and the rate he's going, there won't be any money left for our charity. He must've easily chowed down $80 worth of below par food; so, Long Beach Reach you can kiss your share goodbye. He pigged out and it's not even angus beef!
Noontime and Tiger just finished the second round, so the lunch orders started pouring in and the pace and chaos was no longer beer and skittles. Boy, Americans eat a lot of dogs and consume plenty of mustard. Don't forget the onions! No kisses from me, whew!
Free at last at 2 pm - the end of slavery. With all my toes complaining we shuffled to the 18th hole grandstand in the rain. Were there a lot of fair-weather fans behind me! As Furyk said, " NY fans are opinionated and their support is earned, not guaranteed". They're not too kind with folks opening their umbrellas either; was I entertained.
Finally, the end of the day, we couldn't ignore the merchandise tent. All the black logo balls were gone, that's all I can afford to buy here. Judy and Maria got a sleeve of the white ones. Maria bought a canvas three-legged portable chair. We lost Dorothy in the crowd and with no cell phones there was no use hanging around to wait. Maria and I took the shuttle and drove back home in the rain. The beginning of the third round was cancelled, we left with the course practically submerged in a sea of mud; foolish women wearing flip-flops were slipping and sliding or busy cleaning their toes!
What a washout, soggy grounds unfit for man or even the frogs. Wasn't it enough that the Black course lived up to its reputation of being tough that Mother Nature had to add to that?
Oh yes, Dorothy. They found her alright!
What about my toes, are they still there? I can't feel them anymore.
