Waiting On Godot. And Vladimir. And Estragon. And Pretty Much Everybody Else In Tarrant County.

It was another beautiful and terrible day for disc golfing on Tuesday. Every putz in the Metroplex, it seemed, was out at Bear Creek; we eventually got in seventeen holes and it wasn't too painful except for when it was. We started on the back six while waiting for Nick the Knife to show up, then crawled through the first three holes behind incompetents who thought that playing more, uh, deliberately would maximize their skill. Actually one of the players in the group immediately ahead of us - as opposed to the group ahead of them, who spent an inordinate amount of time tangled in brambles - was proficient. He was also the fastest player in his group- coincidence? Yes, but there's no reason to let the slow people in on that. After the third hole we jumped over to eleven and played from there through to eighteen, with delays on twelve, thirteen, fourteen, seventeen, and eighteen although none of them were worth murdering the offending parties over. I'm disappointed in theory not to have played a full round but based on the holes I did play, I probably wasn't going to have a round worth recording anyway. While we were cooling our heels on the second tee box while waiting for the morons in front of us to hack their way out of the creek bed, another party of three walked up, and while we were in the process of throwing, a party of two walked up behind them. The party of two, who obviously were trying to get in a quick round before getting back to finding a cure for cancer, wanted to play through and the guys behind us acquiesced but I said no, pointing out that there were multiple slow groups in front of us. A butterfly flapping its wings in China would probably slow some of those idiots down; I don't know what kind of effect a couple of assholes crashing through them would have but I can't imagine it would be positive for their rate of play.