By Wyatt Earp | May 22, 2007
Our 6th Annual Heritage Hills Golf Resort excursion took place this weekend, and a good time was had by all. Of course, most of that “good time” involved the alcohol and not our golf games. I mean, my friends and I stink anyway, and HHGR is a very difficult course. Halfway through our first round, Vinnie said, “Well, we’re playing lousy, so we may as well get hammered.”
Now, that’s the spirit!
Vinnie, Fish, and I arrived at the clubhouse at noon on Sunday. Since we weren’t due to tee off until 2pm, we hit the bar to meet Badger. Go figure. After ordering pints of Guinness, a cute little waitress came toward our table carrying a tray of shots. She asked Vinnie if he wanted one. Bad move. Vinnie asked what they were, and she replied, “Southern Apples. It’s Southern Comfort, Apple Schnapps, and . . . “ That’s all Vinnie heard, since he was too busy rounding up all of the dollar bills in his wallet. We each tried one, and let me tell you, these things were heaven on earth!
So we bought another.
Um, then another.
When she left our table, we cleaned her out of her first 12 shots. Not too bad. For her, that is, since three shots apiece in about five minutes was not our brightest idea before a golf round. Anyway, the waitress was having trouble moving the Southern Apples, so she stopped by our table a few minutes later.
We bought the rest of her tray. Vinnie, in a class move, said, “We’ll take the tray. You know what? Just leave the tray here.” After downing the shots on the tray, we were up to a total of eighteen between the four of us. In twenty minutes. (Since we thought no one would believe us, Vinnie took the below photo of the 18 empty shot cups – and our pints of Guinness – with his camera phone.)
When the waitress made her second round, she came to us last. Deathlok’s friend Jim bought us some more shots, which cleaned out her second tray. We kept the tray at our table for posterity, too. Total shot count before golfing: 25. In thirty minutes. (Vinnie, Badger, and I each had six, and Fish had five. Jim took the rest.)
Suffice to say, we did not golf all that well as a whole. Considering the fact that the four of us also downed a half bottle of Jameson and a half bottle of Chocolate Cake shots in five hours, our livers were waving the white flag. After the first round, we went to our rooms, showered, and went to dinner. After dinner, we brought out the Guinness and shots again at the bar. Deathlok and his pals marveled (read: laughed at) our idiocy, but we had a terrific time. Especially Fish. I had to “escort” him back to his room at 11pm, because when he stood, he had to sway back and forth. Mental note: when you’re drunk yourself, it’s difficult to half-carry a friend up three flights of steps.
Monday came – by the grace of the Lord – and for some reason, none of us were worshiping the porcelain god. We all made the 7am breakfast before the 8am tee off. We were hurting with the alcohol and lack of sleep, but we made it. Ironically, no one wanted anything to do with beer or liquor this day. We still golfed like hell, but it was a blast. It’s the one event besides Man’s Weekend where we can all get a little crazy. I can’t wait until next year!
Editor’s Note: The author of this post in no way condones binge drinking. Morons such as my friends and I have little brain matter to lose, so we’re okay with it.
(Vinnie’s photo of our 18 shots. The waitress’ tray is on the right.)