A few months ago, I posted about a trip my wife won to Torrey Pines Golf Course in San Diego. Last weekend we went on said trip. It was an all-expense paid vacation that included a couple of rounds of golf and a stay at a hotel that was so far above my pay grade that I considered being a caddy to help me look like I belonged anywhere near it.
It had slippers and bathrobes and bell hops and valets and shoe cleaning and concierges and little mints branded to the hotel.
I’m used to locking my door at hotels for safety sake, I locked them here because I couldn’t afford to replace the hotel bathrobes if they were to get stolen.
That being said, it was lovely, my wife loved it, the down mattress, the pampering, all of it. White collar living has always been an ill-fitting suit for me, but I made myself appreciate it as much as possible.
There were moments where appreciating it was impossible. There was a fella who threw his bag of donuts on the ground because his room wasn’t ready. There was a woman who berated a poor busboy because the coffee station was out of coffee and she was “going to need coffee if I’m going to be dealing with my kids this morning”.
While privileged and crawling with caddies and $10 beers, it played like every other golf course I’d ever played. It was picturesque and featured holes I had seen on T.V. but they were all made out of grass and dirt and had a hole with a flag in it. I watched dozens of people hit their first tee shot looking like a dog pooping razor blades, I didn’t have the same nerves. I don’t know why. I literally have been playing crappy golf for the last six months but fixed it all on a world-renowned golf course.
I was proud of myself in this: I recognized some of the more famous holes and didn’t hit the panic button when I stood over the ball on them. There was a long downhill par three that was 180 yards into a stiff offshore wind. It was gorgeous and a hole I’ve seen a lot of pros miss completely. I watched the two golfers before me spray the ball, one into a cavern, the other into the ocean. It wasn’t a settling feeling but where the voices would normally be poking me in the ol’ cranium they were quiet all day long. I hit the green and parred the hole.
I could go on about fancy hotels and unexpectedly good golf games, but that isn’t really the point. I was able to spend a long weekend with my wife and a couple of dear friends. It was a weekend without social media and soccer games. It was a weekend of setting aside my workout program and eating delicious food regardless of calorie count (also, here’s a tip. If you find yourself in the greater San Diego area find Hodads and get a burger immediately). It was about getting away a bit.
The lesson here little ones? Well it isn’t about playing good golf and staying in way to expensive places. Its about mommy and daddy recharging our batteries. Macy, you asked me if you could go on the trip. I gave you an unapologetic ‘no’. It may have sounded abrupt (probably too abrupt) but the answer would have been ‘no’ regardless of tone. Mommy and daddy need away time. We love traveling with you girls, seeing a bit of the world with you, but we need us time as well. It isn’t any kind of shot at you but every once in a while mommy and daddy recognize that we’ve only seen each other at soccer games and carpool handoffs.