Alone In A Crowd

Every time I show up to golf at my country club on Cape Cod (which loyal readers will remember is not really much of a country club, nor is it technically on Cape Cod), the starter behind the counter gets very concerned that I will have a long wait ahead of me. He is always trying to send me to do the back-nine first, so that I will encounter fewer groups. While I will grant him that I do play faster than most of the other members of the course (probably because they average about 70 years of age), I honestly don't know why he is so anxious about this. I have never complained about the wait on any golf course I have ever played. (And if I did complain I doubt I would do it so vigorously or carry enough weight with the staff that the next time around everyone was worried about pissing me off. They would probably just call me an asshole and move along with their day.) But the main reason that I don't understand his concern is that I rarely actually have to wait. On more than one occasion after getting this warning I have played a few holes, paused for a moment and noticed that as far as I can see I am literally the only person playing the course. It's actually kind of awesome. I imagine it is the same sensation you would get if you were so rich that you owned your own private course somewhere. I have to say, it's a nice feeling to have.

I got to experience that same feeling this weekend in another setting as we went bowling on Saturday (that's right, spending the holiday weekend living it up at the bowling alley!). It was early evening (had to get done before the Celtics game - priorities and all) and when we pulled up there were so few cars around I was at first concerned the place was closed. I know that it was a long weekend where many people go out of town and bowling is not exactly a hopping activity for a Saturday night anymore, but I was still expected a little crowd. That is why I was shocked when we went inside to discover only one other group bowling and they were finishing up. After we started another twosome showed up, but they only bowled one game and left. A third group arrived just as we were getting ready to head out, but for a majority of the time we were there we were the only ones bowling. Again, you got the impression that this must be what it is like to be so rich that you can either afford to rent out an entire place out for a private party or simply build your own bowling alley on your property. However, I have to say this time the feeling wasn't quite as much fun as it was when I have the golf course to myself.

I think the difference has a lot to do with the activity. First off, bowling is often a social experience and you expect to deal with people and noise all around you, whereas golf lends itself to quiet. Getting one without the other just throws everyone off. It is the same kind of logic that makes me unsettled on the first tee and there are other people waiting to tee off. I always play badly until I get a few holes in and know that no one is watching me play because amateur golf is not a spectator sport and I want as few people around as possible. Nothing is as loud as silence when you are expecting noise and a whisper sounds like a megaphone when someone finally breaks that silence. As anyone who has ever walked down a silent city street in the middle of the night can attest, when you are in a place where you are normally expecting a lot of noise in that moment silence isn't golden, it's just creepy. But on the flipside, anytime you are in a movie theater for a mid-week showing of a movie which has been out for a couple weeks and you have the place to yourself it is thrilling - even though you know it is a public setting, you almost resent the people who inevitably come in later. Movies are supposed to be quiet and in that setting the solitude is appreciated. However, being in that large space with my lone bowling ball making the noise which echoed around didn't make me feel like a member of the 1% tax bracket, it made me feel like a member of a group which survived the zombie apocalypse.

As most people can tell you, in most things in life the "where" is just as important as the "what" because it adds context. I don't think that can be any clearer than in a case like this - even though the "what" was the same (having the place mostly to yourself), because of the "where" things felt drastically different. It is possible I would have liked it better if I was bowling in a smaller alley where it wasn't quite so bizarre that no one else was around, but I doubt it. I think finding myself as part of the solitary group in a bowling alley will be unsettling regardless of how many lanes the place has. [Sidebar: Additionally it didn't help that the guys working behind the counter didn't have anything else to look at and therefore spent their night watching us bowl. I hadn't been bowling in years and let me tell you, I did not need that kind of added pressure. I may be just as bad of a golfer as I am a bowler, but at least the ranger doesn't follow me around.] The simple truth is that sometimes in life it is very cool to have the place to all to yourselves, but other times that solitude just feels wrong. I assume figuring out the difference is one of those problems extremely wealthy people have to deal with when they first get money. In case you haven't notice I am well on my way to coming up with a system, so now all I need is the money. If anyone has a system for that, just let me know.