There's a new group now teeing it up on the golf course outside my windows on Friday mornings. They've dubbed themselves the BFF's and while some of them of definitely are friends off the course, the BFF in this case stands for Best Flask Friends. And some of those BFF's could be my BFF's but in that case, it would be Best Friends Forever. I won't say who...some of them are, after all, my best friends forever for real. Although they call themselves the Best Flask Friends, I've dubbed them The Schnockered Sisters.
The Friday game requires a little nip for specific golf accomplishments...a celebration, if you will. Sandy pars. Greens hit in regulation on the par threes. Chip-ins. A par on #13, the hardest hole on the course. Think of it as a little hooch for the highlights of the round. And it's not you-drink-when-you-do-it; everyone drinks when anyone does it. They even text back and forth between the groups so no one misses a chance to celebrate the good play in the foursome ahead or behind them. We women are supportive of one another like that, you know.
We needn't worry about them getting drunk on the course; they're hardly professionals. In fact, I accused them of expanding their group to include more lower-handicapped members in the hopes of improving their chances to imbibe but they deny it. Good thing it's not booze for bogies...they might turn into sots if that were the case.
Tipping back the flask results in only a sip for most of them but there's one or two who get with the spirit (iterally and figuratively) and get a few good gulps of the sauce. And one they suspect keeps her lips pursed so she barely wets her whistle. Lushes they're not...just a group of gals looking to have a few laughs, even if it's at themselves when they play so poorly the flasks never leave the golf bags.
There's something to be said for their game. Gone is the reason to hope Jane misses the putt because she will tie you and you'll lose the skin; now you're pulling for her to make that sandy par. No more lamenting the fact that you missed the green; it's now a chance for a chip-in. And if you have a bad hole...pick up that ball and go on to the next one. No one cares.
We used to chuckle about the bloody-mary-drinking ladies at the local country club where the drink cart really lived up to its name. At least the BFF's only imbibe when the play is good. If I had a flask, I'd raise it in a toast to the Schnockered Sisters. Drink up...life and good golf shots deserve a little celebration.