Ran remains on cloud nine for the remainder of our visit.
We conclude a great trip, having been the guest of a most gracious host. We enjoyed great weather, great accomodations, great food, great drink, great golf, but, most importantly, great company and great comraderie. We've all had a fabulous time.
We depart Sand Hills and drive south toward North Platte to catch our connecting flight to Denver.
On the ride to North Platte, we relive our trip.
In addition, we now see even more phantom holes and golf courses on both sides of the highway.
The natural blow outs reminding us of many of the bunkers at Sand Hills.
Ran remains in a state of euphoria for the entire ride.
We arrive at the North Platte airport and I notice a B-17 bomber on the tarmac.
When we get inside the terminal, we find out that they're offering 1/2 hour rides on that B-17 for $
I wanted to fly in that B-17.
My uncle was a belly gunner in a B-17, and flew a good number of missions out of the air base in Foggia, Italy, before he was shot down and captured. He spent the rest of the war in a prisoner of war camp.
As I looked at the B-17 sitting on the tarmac, the thing that impressed me was that it looked "overbuilt" rather cumbersome, but sturdy.
If I recall correctly it was silver with yellow markings on the tail.
We've arrived at the North Platte airport with ample time to make our flight, but, I'm not sure that if I take a ride in that bomber that I'll be able to make my plane to Denver, and I think, this is the last flight to Denver that day.
I strike up a conversation with some people with the TSA.
We talk about the bomber, it's history and how neat it would be to take a ride in it.
The "puddle jumper" between North Platte and Denver probably flies faster and is probably just as cramped for quarters, but, I really want to fly in that bomber. I inquire about signing up and the timing of the ride. I'm deeply disappointed to learn that I won't make the flight to Denver if I fly in the B-17. I elect to pass on seeing what my uncle experienced.
I now turn my attention to getting ready to board our flight to Denver.
We're in the security line. TEPaul is in front of me. Not surprisingly, he can't find his ticket and/or his ID.
Everybody is asking, what's the holdup ? And calling, c'mon, let's go !
TEPaul is fumbling around in his bag and he asks me to go ahead of him in line so that he can have more time to find what he needs.
So, I go ahead of him. Bad move.
It turns out that the TSA agents are conducting thorough searches of every THIRD passengers and their bags.
By leapfrogging TEPaul, I become a "third" passenger and am asked to open all of my carry on luggage.
In my luggage is a shaving kit.
In my shaving kit is a box of matches from Augusta that I took as a souvenir when I played there in 1999.
I don't smoke, but, the hard cover matchbox is really neat, so I took it as a souvenir.
Matches are considered contraband.
I hadn't used this particular shaving kit since that time.
In addition to the matches, there's a Swiss Army knife and another all purpose knife.
Knives of any type are considered contraband.
Needless to say, I"m asked to step out of line.
I now wish I had flown in that B-17 with TEPaul, so that I could have opened the bomb bay doors and dropped him out from 8,000 feet, over his beloved Constellation routing at Sand Hills.
I'm questioned in great detail about the contents of my shaving kit.
I explain that I haven't used the kit in about 6 years. That I don't smoke and never thought about the contents of the shaving kit in the context of prohibited items.
Some of the TSA people are the same ones that were discussing the B-17 with me.
The items are confiscated and I now spend a good deal of time filling out paperwork, thinking, that I'll be put on some special list, including a "no fly" list.
As I'm going through this ordeal, I'm thinking, "I wonder if the commuter plane to Denver has doors that I can open during flight so that I can throw TEPaul out of the plane. Who knows, maybe he'll land on Ballyneal.
I complete all that's required of me and with a sigh of relief, am allowed to board the plane to Denver.
I ask TEPaul if this is the first time he's been allowed out of Pennsylvania.
The humor and irony is lost on him.
We land in Denver.
I buy the Sunday New York Times prior to getting on our connecting flight home.
In the NYT's there's a huge article describing the FINES levied against passengers with confiscated contraband.
Fines as much as $ 10,000 per incident, and I've had three (3). The article goes on to say that the fines are sent in the mail and are typically received between one and three weeks after the incident.
I'm now wondering if the Continental Jumbo Jet has doors that I can open to throw TEPaul out of the plane somewhere between Denver and Newark..
The article goes on to say that the fine/s is/are established locally, by the airport of incident and that the determination of the amount of the fine is determined locally, in large part by the demeanor of the passenger, the items confiscated, the explanation, etc., etc..
I'm hoping that the people at NPA were kindly disposed to my situation, but, I can't help but think that shortly after getting home, I'm going to receive a rather unpleasant delivery from the Post Office, an unhappy reminder of my wonderful trip to Sand Hills with TEPaul.
We board the Continental Jet to Newark without incident.
TEPaul is wearing a cap with the Sand Hills logo on it.
If you go back and look at the photo of TEPaul sitting in the back of that white pickup truck, you might have noticed that he bears a striking resemblance to Bill Coore and/or Ben Crenshaw.
I am unsuccessful in getting TEPaul upgraded to First Class.
He's sitting in Seat 17C.
My luck now turns a little for the better.
The flight attendant taking care of me is drop dead gorgeous, with a figure to match.
She's the most attractive flight attendant that I've seen in over a decade.
She's got a beautiful smile, a terrific personality and is pretty sharp.
I engage her in conversation and discover that she's a dog lover, as am I.
We talk about dogs and other subjects for about an hour.
Thoughts of bomb bay doors are creeping back into my head.
I ask her if she's seen "Rain Man"
She says she has.
I relate just some of my TEPaul experiences to her.
We laugh a good deal, she is terrific, gorgeous, personable with a sense of humor, and just a terrific woman.
I tell her that my "friend" is sitting in seat 17 C.
I tell her all about the fact that TEPaul idolizes C&C.
We hatch a plot.
Here's what happens
She casually walks down the aisle toward the back of the plane
As she approaches 17 C, she makes eye contact with TEPaul.
TEPaul sees her and is stunned by her looks. I mean, she's really gorgeous, with an incredible smile.
He smiles at her, she smiles back, she walks by him, then backs up and says, excuse me, but, are you Ben Crenshaw, the famous golfer ?
TEPaul has now kicked Ran off cloud nine, and has taken Ran's place, he's higher than a kite, he's puffed up like the Goodyear Blimp.
She says, "you know I just love golf and you're my favorite golfer"
TEPaul is now in seventh heaven and is stammering for words.
And, I'm watching every bit of this..
She says, "I thought I recognized you when you boarded, but, I wanted to get everyone settled before I came over to ask you what you're doing when we land"
If you thought TEPaul was excited about the Constellation routing, you should have seen him then.
He says, "you know, a lot of people mistake me for Ben Crenshaw, but, I'm not.
Not missing a beat, she says, "then you must be Bill Coore, his partner, you two look so much alike and I just love golf course architects and golf course architecture.
TEPaul is straining at his seat belt and levitating out of his seat.
You have no idea how enraptured he is by this beauty, who's intriquingly interested in him and golf course architecture.
He says, well I know Ben and Bill is a good friend of mine, as a matter of fact .... blah, blah, blah.... he proceeds to try to tell her his life story in golf, all about Androssan Farms, Sand Hills, etc., etc..
She then says, "listen, I'd love to sit and talk to you, but, I really don't know anything about golf, I'm just hear because your friend in seat XYZ told me to come back and play a joke on you.
In a nano-second, TEPaul has now been dropped out of the bomb bay door at 35, 000 feet
TEPaul has gone from the thrill of victory to the agony of defeat.
The man is crest fallen, depressed, embarrased, mortified, red faced and disappointed.
I'm ecstatic, I'm smiling. In fact, I'm laughing.
While I'll be apprehensive every time the mail is dropped off, at least I'll have the memory of TEPaul being shot down like the Red Baron at the hands of Snoopy.
The flight attendant returns and gives me the report on her fishing expedition describing how TEPaul took, hook, line and sinker
It was a wonderful way to end a terrific trip