Anyway, I got hit by a golf ball. I was up around Irving Park on the Lake Shore running path, which is right by a golf course. Out of nowhere, a golf ball comes flying at me and hits me in the thumb and chest. My thumb still hurts pretty bad, and my chest had a bruise. I looked around to see where it came from. Being consistently picked on and made fun of when I was younger, my first reaction whenever anything like this happens (not that I get pelted with golf balls a great deal, but any sort of anonymous harm) is that somebody did it on purpose. Don't ask me why. It's not because I'm conceited and think the world revolves around me. More or less, I think that somebody better than me is somehow out to get me. Don't ask me why. Self-esteem issues, I suppose. Anyway, that sort of feeling is always fleeting, and this case was no exception. I looked over to the golf course and saw the culprit, waving his hand apologetically. Well, not even apologetically, it looked more like he was waving to say "Hello!" but "apologetically" is not only a big word, but gives a sense of payoff to the story.
I kept the golf ball. I have no idea why. I ran up to Wilson and on my way back I knew that this was the spot where I got hit. So I looked for it and sure enough, found that sucker in the grass. It's a Nike one too. Probably made by kids in a sweatshop. The bastard endorses sweatshops AND he unapologetic ally aims to pelt innocent passers-by with golf balls!
I decided I was going to take the ball to Florida. I mean, it's kind of funny. I'm training for this run and out of nowhere I get beamed with a golf ball. Watching it from an outside perspective (or, apparently, even from the perspective of the guy who hit me) had to be pretty funny. Not really America's Home Videos funny, since the ball didn't hit me in the groin. But funny nonetheless.
There was really no rhyme or reason (I don't understand this phrase. What kind of "rhyme" would there be?) to why I kept it and decided to take it with me to Disney World. I just wanted to. Or wait...maybe there is a reason...
A mu'fuckin' golf ball. I worked under that thing for 8 months, you know. Most boring ride in the history of the world. More boring than waiting in line to pay for a toll road.
3 comments:
omg how dare you say you hate the gianormous ball ride [spaceship earth... but i had to say it the other way, like the guests used to say]. i loved the neanderthals. and everything else about it. jk, not really. noodles.
I live behind a gold course and it had all sorts of amusement. We used to run around collecting golf balls in the summer in our backyard. We also used to ride out onto the field at night in a golf cart. The best though was when it snowed a few feet and we'd put on snow pants and then run outside as fast as we could toward the field and all of a sudden-BAM- you'd fall into a sandtrap where the snow was over your head! Never got hit though.
i would have kept it too.
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