Back in '84 Captain Glen and Scrimshaw

 were having an argument over who was the best golfer one January.  Finally one of them bet the other $50 that he could golf his way up Pillar Mountain in fewer strokes than the other.

One hole, par 70 with the hole a 5 gallon bucket buried in the snow.

The bet was casually announced in one of the bars and someone else wanted a piece of it and overnight the idea of the Pillar Mountain Open Golf Classic sprouted out of nowhere.

A hasty plan was set up and it was decreed the winner would get half of the pot and the other half would go to a  local charity.

In another bar a board organizing foursomes was set up and it became an instant town event. The awards banquet was slated appropriately for April Fool's day.

The fee was $50 and that time of year I didn't have a lot of loose scratch and happened to be in the bar with the organizing board. The owner offered to ante up and support a woman's team.

Three woman were there having a drink and talking about who to get to complete the foursome. I looked at them and laughed. I knew all three of them simply because Kodiak was a small town. They were 10 to 20 years older than I was at the time.

"Hell, if you three old broads can't find anyone I'll pinch hit," I said. I turned to the bartender. "Us girls can chippie our way to the top!"

None of them took any offense as there was no malice in what I said. They didn't take themselves too seriously. They, along with the rest of the patrons broke out laughing.

I didn't think anything of it and wandered out and headed up the line. I had someone to meet. They'd find someone.

I was in the next ginmill up and was having a beer with a friend and discussing business when Captain Glen walked up to me. "Hey, Wiseass!" he said. "You overloaded your face a couple doors down and now you're on the woman's team!"

"Me and the girls are going to chippie our way to the top!" I shot back. He shook his head and walked off looking a tad confused.

I made arrangements with my team members to show up beforehand and we'd travel to the tee-off together in someone's Jeep.

I showed up in Carhart inculated coveralls as did the girls. 

Another woman, a friend's wife showed up with a shopping bag and started pulling stuff out of it. The first thing was a bra and I knew I was in trouble.

The cups were huge and she reached in for a roll of paper towels to stuff it with. I told her to stop and went next door to the liquor store and grabbed a pair of Pinch bottles of Haigscotch. They fit pretty good into the enormous cups of the bra.

With 2 bottles of scotch bolted to my chest, my friend's wife then proceeded to pull a huge dress over me and then topped me off with a Dolly Parton wig.

Another woman laughingly sat me down and put makeup on me.

I looked ridiculous but that was OK. I knew we'd have a pretty good time.

We did, too. between the four of us we had one golf bag, three clubs (1 wood, a 9 iron, and a putter). In addition to that there was a baseball bat, 75 feet of 3/4 inch rope and a baseball bat.

I was last to tee off and during practice swings I griped that my jugs were getting in the way. One of the woman said, "Now you know how we feel!"

"Look," I said. "All three of you are reasonably endowed but none of you are packing two quarts of scotch!"

Laughter.

I picked up the baseball bat and clouted my ball with it. Then we started climbing and retrieving balls in the snow. It was a bitch.

We stopped after a couple of strokes and had a snort out of what the girls referred to as the 'whisky tittie'. We put a pretty good dent in the bottle and shared some with another foursome.

The loss of the weight made my load uneven and one of the girls started laughing and asked me if I was a Chinese girl named Wun Hung Lo. 

I looked. My boobs were definitely uneven. So I fished into my bra for the other bottle and we evened things out, sharing a few snorts with another foursome.

Somewhere along the line one of the town muckety mucks heard about the scotch and asked me for a snort. I was clever. I undid a couple of buttons on my dress and slipped a bra strap down and brought the bottle over the bra. 

About this time when he wasn't looking one of the girls produced a camera and got his picture sucking scotch out of my left 'whisky tittie'. Later the picture got blown up and it graced the walls of one of the bars, much to his embarrassment.

By this time we were pretty toasted and we continued our way to the top. The rope came in handy as we had to drag each other up the slippery hillside.

 By the time we got to the top and turned in scorecards we were a mess. Mine was the best of the four. It was a 385 or something for a par 70 one hole course which I later found out wasn't all that bad.

We had left with a pretty hefty sized bag of golf balls and when we got to the top we had only a half-dozen left, if that.

Incidentally the Dolly Parton wig had done a pretty good job of keeping my head warm.

We had all had a blast. I was glad I had done it and enjoyed the woman's team slot.

Another woman that came along with her boyfriend commented that she was glad she hadn't taken my place because she enjoyed watching the four of us.

We finagled a ride down the hill somehow and planned on meeting in a few days for the awards banquet. 

The only aftermath was that for a while I was called Piccolene by the guys for a few weeks and the nickname showed up every once in a while for the rest of the time I lived on the island. I didn't mind it at all, though. I'd earned it.

Somewhere in a drawer I have a brown T-shirt with the Pillar Mountain Open Golf Classic emblem on it. I'll have to go find it.




To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY