Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Mulligans, I'm Sorry


The kids talked me into taking a trip to Mulligans. Sat in the shade with my crossword puzzle and magazine, while my son and his two buddies terrorized the miniature golf patrons. Not really, they're pretty good kids, but they are eleven.

Before we left, I rode the go karts with them. Something crazy competitive comes over me when I'm in one of those cars. I'm typically a pretty conservative driver, but put me in a go kart, and I turn into Professor Fate.

If you've never been in a go kart, they have a gas pedal and a brake pedal. I don't use the brake pedal. My right foot hurts, I'm pressing down so hard on the gas. I don't know why I like nearly running a kid off the track, or bumping another driver, but I do. My motherly instincts vanish when I'm in a go kart. It's embarrassing.

Today, I had an accident on the track. One of the kids spun out because another kid pulled a police move on him. I proceeded to broadside him at full speed. We weren't hurt, and fortunately, it was my son's friend. He laughed and turned the car and sped off, but I nearly pee'd myself. The young guy in charge darted over, and shouted 'Whoa, dude!"

I thought I was going to get booted out. Me, a 40-something mom getting kicked out of Mulligans. No refund, no return. They'd take a mug shot of me, post it at the entrance, and not let me back in EVER.

That thought lasted about 10 seconds, and I was back to my old crazy self, racing around that track, hunging those curves, passing other drivers, and lead footing it to the finish line.

Next time, I'm going to stick to my crossword puzzle.

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