How much of human life is lost in waiting.
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
OK, let me share the secret to getting around through Masters Week traffic.
There is no secret.
Traffic plans come and go, but the major routes don’t change much. What does change (About as often as the breeze on Hole No. 12) are the internal parking lot routes, and there, you’re on your own.
My advice: Keep heading in a direction that someone points to, roll down your window and ask if you can, park, then look for a landmark (trees are helpful) to remember where you are. This will come in handy in a few hours.
Really. That’s it.
I spent parts of Sunday and Monday driving around the parking areas – paid and free. It was all orange cones, rope and sheriff’s deputies. At one point I heard a young man in one of the paid lots telling a visitor that Interstate 20 was “over there,” while pointing in the opposite direction.
I say, just keep driving. Eventually, you’ll cross a major road and figure your way out.
P.S. If you were the guy with North Carolina plates following me through that parking maze on Sunday because you thought I knew where I was going ... my apologies.
* * *
TIGER TALK: I was on the course Sunday and saw all my old friends, who were there, as always.
I did not see Tiger Woods or Lindsey Vonn, or anyone else who looked like a celebrity. But I thought I would include that phrase in this column so that fans across America might find it in their Internet search engines and increase my Web traffic. I’ll let you know how this works. It might be the best bait since deer corn.
(“Tiger Woods, Lindsey Vonn,” in case you missed it.)
* * *
TODAY’S GOLF JOKE: There was an elderly couple from south Georgia driving to Augusta for another Masters visit.
Somewhere on Interstate 20, they got to going pretty fast, and a trooper pulled them over. He asked the old man for his driver’s license.
The old woman, being extremely deaf, turned to her husband and shouted, “What’d he say?”
The man answered, “HE JUST WANTED TO SEE MY LICENSE.”
“Oh,” said the cop, trying to be polite, “I see you’re from Albany.”
“What’d he say?” the old woman again asked.
Her husband patiently replied, “HE JUST NOTICED WE’RE FROM SOUTH GEORGIA.”
“You know,” the state trooper said, trying to lighten the moment, “the meanest, crankiest, orneriest old woman I ever knew lived in Albany.”
Again, the older woman shouted to her husband, “What did he say?”
The old gentlemen turned to his wife, and replied, “HE SAID HE THINKS HE KNOWS YOU.”