I spent hours searching, searching, searching for something that I know exists online – I just can’t find it.
What I was hoping to link to in this post are the Tweets in which my now good friend Lauren and I met each other – its a fun story. Sadly, Twitter only archives a user’s most recent 3,800 tweets. And I guess I’ve delighted the interwebs with more than 4,100 thoughts (which is just crazy.)
Here’s the backstory: Lauren and I were both early Twitter users back when she moved to Jacksonville to start a job with the PGA Tour and I was hard at work with the Corps of Engineers there. We followed each other online for a few months and thanks to simultaneous tweets, when I realized we were both at the same concert I sent her a message describing myself and suggested we walk to the middle of the arena so we could finally meet in person. We did, and the rest is history. Searching for those tweets led down an internet rabbit hole – I looked at a ton of old photos and realized we spent time together three times the week we met. We are quite different people (I am a million years older than her) but we clicked.
I was so psyched in early 2010 when I got this message from her:
“Check out the email I got from THE Ryder Cup…I repeat, THE Ryder Cup! Whooo! Then guess who’s fiancé absolutely doesn’t want to go to Wales for the honeymoon?? Crap! But then he said “You should still go. It’s a once in a lifetime chance.” But who do I know that is in the proximity of Wales who would be able to join me for a few days frolicking around Celtic Manor to cheer on the Americans?? (hint hint hint!!)”
So, mere days after she got married, she kissed her sweet husband good-bye, jetted over the pond, and together, we flew to London.
And then we took the train to Wales where we had a few days of golfing adventure that I’ll never forget.
Photography was only permitted during the practice rounds, so we did not have our cameras or phones with us for official play. And oh, what pictures they would have been! Because after just two hours of golf? There was a seven hour, fifteen minute rain delay.
We waited out the rain delay beer tent. For more than SEVEN hours.
The Daily Telegraph said this:
Conditions in the Usk Valley on Friday were quite splendid for ducks, but brought the soggiest of frustration for all those trying to negotiate the mud without webbed feet. As horns sounded to suspend play at 9.42am, the official advice was for poor punters to find shelter in the bars and brasseries of the sprawling tented village. Few hospitality areas, though, can cope with 40,000 bedraggled souls at one sitting. It was estimated by Celtic Manor that 20,000 portions of fish and chips, plus 132,000 pints of beer, would be sold in the three days of play but almost as many of these have disappeared in just one morning.
And my journal entry about the day says this:
Friday at the Ryder Cup – Rain. Golf. Rain. Mud. Rain. Beer. Beer. Beer. Rain. Mud. Beer. Beer. Beer. Golf.
Technically, we didn’t see much golf. But what an adventure we had… And at least we got to see the final (delayed) round on television when we were each back at our homes – me in Germany and Lauren in the States.