However, on an unrelated note...a couple of weeks ago I jumped ship to California again for a couple of days. This time to Monterey. It was a pretty awesome place. It was cold and foggy the second day but lots scenery to take it. The main reason I was there was to present my research on bladder cancer. I got to make a giant poster, dress up in my monkey suit, and answer questions to enquiring Urologists. It was a blast. The atmosphere was a lot of fun. All the people I worked with over the summer were in attendance so it was good shooting the breeze and catching up. The best part was the "open bar" on opening night. All the kids from a very prestigious residency were a little tipsy. Hopefully I won brownie points with that crowd because due to their shenanigans, I may have alienated myself from all the other programs there (sigh). I doubt this fact since I saw everyone else hitting the bottles of wine pretty hard so they probably won't remember anything that transpired that night. Doctors are funny drinkers (chuckle).
With all of those stories aside there was basically only one reason why I went to Monterey. It wasn't to boost my resume, network with the Big Wigs of Urology, or even beg on my knees in front of multiple residency directors for a spot in their programs. Although I did all of these things that weekend, I had a bigger quest to perform. A quest to visit the one and only, Pebble Beach. I get goosebumps just thinking about this place. Tiger, Jack, Arnold...the history of that course is incredible. My hotel was a mere 5 miles from the course. As soon as I unpacked I ran downstairs, hopped in a taxi and headed towards the course. As we spiraled up the hill, the fog began to set in. I thought of Tiger's US Open while he hit shot after shot in the fog. I was giggling in the taxi cab. As I hopped out of the cab I took it all in. The smell of damp grass, the Rolex clocks scattered about, and yes...the Asian tourists (seriously, they are everywhere with their Nikon cameras and oversized visors). I started off down the 18th fairway. As I got to the tee box, one image sat out in my mind and I had to do my best to replicate it.
I'm actually crying as I finish this post. It was so beautiful. Think about it. My butt has touched the same place Nicklaus' butt has touched. It almost makes us soul mates. Or better yet...Blood Brothers, bound by the same love of striking a pose on old wooden fences. I love you Jack. That was truly incredible. One day I will be back. And next time I'm taking my clubs. I will sell off my Best Man Badge if i have to in order to afford the $500 greens fees. But I will be back because my derriere longs for yours Jack...
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