Monday, June 6, 2011
Where is Dwayne Bixby?
After a few weeks of not playing in the usual Thursday afternoon golf game, I was able to get out there last Thursday. I needed to get out to Bixby Golf Course because I am in search of the Dwayne. My friends ended up in the twilight zone the last time they came across Dwayne and I feel it is my fault. I guess he is like Bigfoot, I have heard a lot about him but never got a glimpse.
I pulled into the parking lot and I have a few minutes to spare. Two from our group are standing in the middle of the parking lot. It appears they are waiting for someone or looking for something, I am thinking they are looking for me but I know better, they have their sites on finding the elusive Dwayne Bixby. I pull into a spot and as I get out of the car, I hear Cliffy say, "No one said he's coming!" Wow, I guess Cliffy was a little sore from my observations in the previous blog (What Would Dwayne Do). I wrote, "we love our Cliff.", but I guess that was not enough. I was told the last time they played, they were trying to goat Cliff into seeing if he was keeping their score. As time wore on, I think Cliff knew it was all in good fun.
Some of my group was kind of disappointed that I didn't give them a nickname. I think the nicknames will just happen, as we will see in a bit, someone got another nickname.
We started our tour of the Bixby Golf Course and I could tell a few guys in our group were looking for Dwayne. I was looking but I had no idea what I was looking for. By the time we got to the fourth hole, the search for Dwayne was over but the Dwaynisms started. If you have to leave the golf course because your playing partners are driving you nuts, that is called, "You've been Dwayned." When you are not sure on how to play the hole you ask, "WWDD?" We even thought of printing tee-shirts with the Bixby Golf Course on the back and overlaid on the map are the shortest distances back to the clubhouse and the caption will read, "In case of Dwayne...."
This all started on the fourth hole. We all teed off and we were laughing all the way down the fairway to our respective balls. As I was walking towards my ball, I had to tell two people, "Get away from my ball." I guess one of those people just paid me the never-mind. I stood about ten yards from my ball and I answered a text message in regards to the Oklahoma State/Baylor women's softball game. (We all had an interest in that game, one of our fellow worker's daughter plays and starts for the Cowgirls...way to go Ari). Anyway, I was explaining how the Cowgirls lost in the bottom of the seventh with a Baylor walk off homer. When I was done, I looked up and low and behold my ball was gone. "Hey, where's my ball?" One of our group played my ball. We have had a running joke that he played one of my balls a few rounds back but today there was no denying it. Once this was found out, the person who witnessed the first wrong ball playing came up with this nickname, "Wrong Ball Paul".