Someone once asked me how I managed to find myself in so many improbable situations.

It is simply because I made no effort to avoid them. Some of the most fun I have ever had was when I made an ass out of myself.

Like the time I joined the woman's team for the Pillar Mountain Open Golf Classic. 

The first year of the Pillar amountain open classic, a one hole, par 70 course was the brain child of a couple of fishermen that likely started as a bet between the two of them after a few beers. I may be wrong but it's probably close.

It was fairly early in March and if I recall correctly the plan was the golfing would take place just after St. Partick's Day with the ceremony scheduled for April Fool's Day at Tony's Bar.

There was a $50 entry fee and fifties were scarce that time of year. I sort of wanted to enter but didn't have a spare $50.

I was in a bar a couple down from Tony's having a drink and the owner announced he was sponsoring a woman's team. He was paying the fee. Three woman had signed up on the spot. I knew all three of them and they knew me. All three were older than I was by several years.

They were looking for a fourth.

"Hell, if you don't find anyone, sign me up. Me and the girls can chippie our way to the top," I said. The place cracked up. It was just an idle comment. I got up and left a minute later. I had a date of some sort with a real hottie I had met earlier. She was visiting from Seattle and I knew a slam-dunk when I saw one.

I arrived at the designated spot and she was there as planned but had to beg off and she said she was free for all of the next day. She said she'd be thrilled to see Alaskan wildlife. I told her I'd meet her between nine and ten and told her to dress in her worst jeans.

I did not tell her I was taking her to the dump. 

What? The dump? Who in hell takes a date to the city dump?

Back in the day I took numerous dates to the dump to see eagles and bears. Eagles and bears have to eat and the dump has pretty easy pickin's. I never took a date to the dump and failed to spot an eagle up close. Quite often they would land on the hood of my pickup.

I never had a date that I took to the dump not totally thrilled to see the wildlife up that close. The following day she proved to be no exception. She was thrilled to see eagles up close and a bear.

So I ran an errand or two and moseyed back to the bar.

First thing someone said when I entered was "Hey Pic! You overloaded your face two doors down and you're on the woman's team."

I felt someone behind me and it was a friend's wife with a tape measure.

"Measuring you for your dress," she said.

"Yeah? Well you better get a bra big enough to hold two Pinch bottles of scotch," I shot ack.

"Who's got tits that big?" asked one of the guys.

Everyone's eyes turned to Sophie. "Oh, no. You're not getting one of my bras..." She said and caved in quickly, adding "OK, I've got an old one I can part with.

I handed my friend's wife a ten because I knew she was heading to the Mission (read Goodwill) for a dress and she always seemed to find things for me in her travels. 

She was always handing me something like an almost new part of Carhart pants for a buck or two. I also told her to make damned good and sure it fit over Carhart insulated coveralls. Pillar Mountain can get pretty cold that time of year.

The next day I ran into Debbie. (I wrote about her yesterday) She was generally a pretty good source of information.

She told me that when I ran my mouth that after I left there had been some discussion over actually sending me along with the three woman to complete the foursome. They knew my offer to go with the girls and chippie our way to the top was made in jest. They also knew I'd probably go along with it if they chose me. The girls themselves said it would be a pretty good deal to take me along in case something happened.

For what it's worth, all three of them had respected positions in the community. I was living in a camper trailer behind a bar just across the town line. Still, I had gotten a certain acceptance from a lot of the community, although sometimes I was considered controversial.

A couple of nights before we golfed I got word that there was going to be a team meeting to discuss strategy. I knew that simply meant the girls wanted to go out and have a couple of drinks. 

While we were there some clown at the other end of the bar was kind of toasted. He was telling the guy next to him an old, tired joke about hiring waitresses. When he got to the punchline he almost shouted it out, "The one with the biggest tits," he said, loudly.

One of my team members looked over at him and said dryly, "In two days that will be him," and pointed at me.

It went right over the man's head but most eveyone picked up on it and laughed like hell. They knew I was going to wear the whisky titties.

Truth of the matter is that a big part of what made the Pillar Mountain Open Classic successful is that it is scheduled for late March. By that time everyone is raging with cabin fever and looking for a place to blow off steam. Alaskan winters can get rough. Suicide, depression and violence rates are much higher in Alaska during the winter. Sometimes people will do just about anything to relieve boredom.

I speak from experience as I fondly remember coming out $1.50 ahead after a series of quarter bets on cockroach races one afternoon.

The course is up the side of Pillar Mountain, one hole, par 70. I was actually there when the two fisherman conjured up the idea and the course has been written up in a number of golf magazines and other places over the years.

Two way radios, chain saws and hatchets are prohibited and waking up a sleeping bear is a five stroke penalty. 

I was actually in the back room with the two that planned this event. It started as a bet between two fishermen and the idea grew. The pair ran it past the owner of one of the bars who offered to let us use the joint for the awards ceremony, slated for April Fool's Day.

Looking back on this, the event was actually a secondary part of the fun. Very few contestants took it seriously at all. It was really just an excuse to get out and do something. A lot of the fun was the excitement leading up to it and the bragging and teasing afterwards.

I showed up at the bar on the morning of the event and picked up a couple bottles of Pinch and wandered into the bar. I believe I got a buy one get one free deal because of the event but I may be wrong.

I entered the bar and was handed a bra which I put on over my carharts and stuffed the bottles into. The damned thing was so big that the clasps were too loose and someone tied the back straps with a knot. The someone else pulled a ridiculous looking dress over the top of it and I was good to go. I was now officially one of the girls. 

I looked riduculous. I was shaggy faced, Einstein haired wearing a rather stupid looking dress over Carhart coveralls and pac boots.

At this point the memory goes a little soft. I believe I was unceremoniously dumped into the back of a pickup and hauled to the base of the mountain and the other three woman and I started our way to the top.

The event itself was a three ring circus with lots of hoots, shouts, one-liners and general stupidity. I do remember that my damned boobs got in the way of my swing and that every time I'd take a shot I'd pull the right one out and everyone in the area would have a taste. I'd make the shot and replace it.

Much of it thirty years later is somewhat of a blur.

One of the things I do remember is the comments from people we passed by. A woman that ran somewhat of a day care took one look at me and laughed. She knew I was a filler in for the woman's foursome and said, "Pic's got the right idea! She turned to me. "Hey, Pic! If that bra has what I think it has in it I'll get the sponge I use to wash the car to blot you up!"

A few of the guys wandered up to me for a drink and shared a laugh about something or another.

It was not long before my right boob was empty and my left one was still full. One of the girls looked at me and laughed. The weight difference made my boobs uneven. "One hung low," she said.

I asked her if that was Chinese for something and we laughed.
getting a drink out of my left boob. By that time I only had one because one of the real girls took my empty one and put it in her pack so as not to litter.

By the time we made it to the top most of us were fairly toasted. All four of us girls were pretty buzzed and I was flat chested. We got a ride bck to town, I threw away my dressed and returned the bra to Sophie who looked at it and laughed. 

A couple of days later, on April Fool's Day the awards ceremony was held at the bar. I don't remember turning in a score card because I ran out of balls and didn't finish. A lot of us didn't.

Half the entry fees were donated to a local charity and the other half went to the winner. The winner was tactful enough to avoid any accusations of impropriety by leaving the cash on the bar and telling us to drink it up.

I was semi-officially declared to be good sport of the year for pinch-hitting on the girls team by a number of people.

The entire town seemed to have been lifted by it because everyone now had something to talk about.

The event may very well go on today. I googled it and saw internet posts on it as recent as 2013.


Aftermath.

I wound up with three woman that were my defenders.

About a week or two later, I was sitting in the bar and a fisherman that had a reputation of raining on everyone's parades asked me loudly if I I had a sexual identity problem. It was in reference to my trip up the hill with the girls.

A voice behind me shot back, "Absolutely not! It takes someone that's pretty damned sure of himself to do what he did!"

It was one of the women I had golfed with. She was in the bar meeting someone and I hadn't noticed her.

One of the respected fishermen that had a reputation for being quite successful turned to her. "You're damned right it does," he said. He turned to me. "I'll bet you had a blast!"

He turned to me. "Would you do that again?"

"Next time I'd have three tits," I said. "We ran out before we got to the top!" That drew quite a laugh.

I think my teammates spoke highly of me, too because I noticed a subtle change in the way some of the town big shots treated me.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I generally took part in all the small town festivities while I lived in Kodiak. Besides golfing up Pillar Mountain we had The Buskin River Raft Race. I took part in that a few times and my presence was duly noted.

The Golf Classic, raft race and a few other things I participated in I went for. I really got into them and had a great time.

There were always a handful of people that disapproved of the way I handled myself at these festivities. I never entered them to win. I entered to have fun. 

For example one year at the raft race my team had a huge war with another team. We sidetracked and battled our way down the river playing a delightful game of screw the otherr guys.

Anyway, there were always a handful of overcritical people that would try and bring people down with derogatory comments about people that participated in things.

I defended myself by simply saying, "I was in the shit and you were sitting on the beach doing nothing...nothing...not a damned thing but watch other people DO something. When you get off your dead ass and onto your dying feet and actually DO something then and only then will your opinion count!"

Generally this was followed with a "But..."

I'd interrupt. "But nothin."

That generally ended it.
Somewhere, maybe in a box in someone's attic is possibly a snapshot of one of the leading citizens



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