Suburban Hike

While hiking mountain after mountain is an individual experience of its own. Reading about the tree I passed, trail mix I ate, and the rock that was blue, can understandably get a bit tedious. A “hike” does not necessarily have to be exclusively on a mountainside. There is a rather large golf course by my house, if you are familiar with the campus, I am sure you have seen it a time or two. Well, after 5 years of living in Kennesaw, and a night of moderate alcohol consumption, we decided to brave the golf course; the oasis in the midst of our suburban reality. I have no idea the time frame of our gallivant, but it was dark outside. With a few back up beers in my pocket, we set out to unfold the mysteries of where the rich spend their leisure time. It was, from what I could tell, picturesque with its rolling hills and pristine grass. I’m sure if it were light out, we could have seen our footprints behind us as we tousled the manicured lawns. We ducked as every car passed fearing that we would be found trespassing, and have to be retained in country club jail. For Chase, that made this hike a little terrifying, while for me it was invigorating. We walked down the “trail” to the lake, right past the country club where we could have surely been spotted if someone merely glanced out the window. Luckily, our stealth moves went unnoticed as we crept by. We could see people in their houses, preparing dinner and watching TV. At one point a man saw us from his kitchen window as he was, presumably, doing his dishes. So, Chase made me dump my beers in the nearest trashcan, which was a cryin’ shame. The “trail” (sidewalk, or whatever it is they drive their little golf carts on) led us down to a pier where ducks and frogs laid not so quietly in the reeds. This brought us back to the road in the neighborhood; back to civilization. Now I know why those guys like golfing so much.