The freakin’ desk clerk at the Sleep Inn lied to us. 3 hours from his door to Orlando my ass. If we hadn’t left at 7:30 and hauled major ass, we would not have made it to the IBM BP golf tournament on time. At which point, David would have promptly shot me and quit, or quit then shot me. Actually, he probably would have run over me with the car first, then quit and shot me. Anyway, what a beautiful day and event. I’ve got tons of pictures, but I’ll only throw a couple in here.
This godawful assemblage of golfers did its very best to come in dead last in the tournament but narrowly avoided it. I take special pride in my contributions to that fate. Utterly horrid would be an adequate description.
From left to right: Rodney Johnson, me, John (I’m not going to try until I see it on paper) , and Bob Biamatti (sp?). Without John we actually would have finished last. Thanks for putting up with us John, and I hope you put away some of that single-malt after we finished!