On the Fringe
Like a Folger’s Commercial
By Luke Flanigan

It was 5 a.m. as I wheeled my jalopy into the vacant parking lot.The fog was so thick that it was difficult to see more than 10 or 15 feet before objects were swallowed up by the murky haze. I sat there in this muddy pre-dawn nebula, swigging coffee to battle drowsiness and wondering why I always agree to this.

After all, who makes a 7 a.m. tee time at a course that is an hour-and-a-half from home?

The course, Dick Groat’s Champion Lakes, has become somewhat of a tradition among two dozen of my friends (actually, a few friends and a bunch of acquaintances).We travel to Somerset for a two-day, four-round tournament.We even have green jackets awarded to the winning teams.

Tired and ornery, I sat in my car awaiting my ride. A buddy of mine offered to drive, so we agreed to meet in a Wal-Mart parking lot near the turnpike. Running a good 15 minutes late, he finally shows up.

But, like the funny-guy he is, he drives right past me, his brake lights disappearing into the enveloping brume. In no mood for jokes, I dragged myself out of the car, popped the trunk, and lugged my sticks, shoes and a suitcase across the desolate parking lot to find him.

I heard a door slam shut and I followed the sound, trying to hone in on my friend, where I planned on giving him a good kick in the butt for making me walk. I saw the dim silhouette of a car as I moved through the gloom — then a second car. As I continued, I saw three men in their mid- 70s, shaking hands and talking with their trunks open.Had I stumbled upon some sort of senior citizen drug deal?

As I got closer, I saw one of the men putting a set of golf clubs in the trunk of the other vehicle.

Holy smokes! These guys were doing the same thing I was doing.Talk about your Early Bird Special! Suddenly, my sleepiness gave way to something else — my fiendish side. I dropped my suitcase, strolled out of the haze, golf bag slung over my shoulder and shouted to the unsuspecting group, “Hey, you guys need a fourth?”

In bewilderment, the trio watched me stroll out of the fog of this desolate parking lot looking for a group to play golf with.

“P- Pardon me?” one of them finally manages to mumble.

“Yeah. Hi guys. I’m a single today, so I’m just wandering around trying to find a group to play with. I noticed you guys only have three. You mind if I join up with you?”

At this point, I am standing amidst the three men, smiling and trying to look casual about this unusual happenstance.

“Where are you playing today?” I ask, breaking their silent stares.

“We were headin’ over to Deer Run,” one answers unenthusiastically.

“Deer Run. I love that course.Tough back nine, links style. I know it well. So.Whatta ya say? Unless you already have a fourth,” I say, giving them an out. “No, it’s just the three of us,” one of them offers, getting an angry dagger of a look from the other two. “Great,” I say. “Do you have room in that trunk for another bag?” I blurt, moving forward and looking into their trunk, now pushing the issue beyond tolerance.

Their horror was palpable. Not only was some weirdo hanging out in a Wal-Mart parking lot looking for golf partners, but he had just invited himself to spend the day with them. Just then, my friend pulled up in his Jeep, wound down the window, staring in bewilderment at me and my three new friends.

“Too late,” I shout at my bleary-eyed pal. “These guys already asked me to play with them.” After an awkward moment, I explained to them how I was just here waiting for my ride and decided to have some fun with them.The laughter that came from the three seniors was precious.They even shook my hand, partially in good humor, partially out of relief that I would not be spending the day with them.We wished each other a good round, I jumped in the Jeep and sped off, only to return a few minutes later to scour the lot looking for my suitcase.

All in all, like a Folgers commercial, it was a pretty good morning.

Remembering My Lai
A Vietnam veteran visits Chartiers Valley high school to recount one of the darkest chapters in U.S. military history.

Unlikely Friendships
A trip to one of Africa’s most desperate countries teaches a CV student that people aren’t so different after all.

Officer of the Year
Scott Township’s Police Department unanimously names Alan Ballo its top cop.

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