Send Me A Sign

My mother's mantra has always been that you should only complain loudly about something if you are prepared to run it yourself, because that is essentially what's going to happen if enough people hear you saying how you could do it better. It is because I have heard that all my life that I am normally so hesitant to complain about the way things are handled, but this afternoon I had to put up with a shitshow which was so bad it can't be helped. As the golfers among us may know, the US Amateur Championship is going on this week over at Brookline's famed Country Club. As a Boston golfer The Country Club has always been something of a place of legend. Supposedly it is one of the best golf courses in the country but it is super-exclusive. According to the rumors, much like Augusta National it is not very expensive to join but you can't just apply for a membership - you have to be invited and those invitations are hard to come by. Now normally I don't care how exclusive a golf course claims to be there are always guest spots and normally you can find a person who has weaseled their way onto a swanky course through some connection. But in this case not only have I never run into a member of The Country Club (guess they don't hang around the same courses as me) I've never even met someone who managed an invite to play there, which only adds to the mystery surrounding the place. When you add in the fact that I also have to drive by the course on a constant basis, my curiosity about what the course looked like was at an all-time high. That is why I got myself a pass as soon as tickets became available.

The problem with holding a public event in a place which normally guards its privacy is always the same - parking. They just don't have the room for a lot of cars because they don't need it. On top of that Brookline has some of the worst parking policies in the world, which means the general parking for this event was all the way over at Boston College. My first thought was that I should just drive to Brookline, park at the Lars Anderson playground and walk the couple of blocks over to the golf tournament but I instead decided to follow the rules and drove to the BC campus. When I first rolled up I noticed a distinct lack of any kind of signage anywhere. I thought there would be a light-up message board or at the very least a wooden sign with a few arrows pointing me in the right direction, but there was nothing. I drove around campus twice but still had no idea where I was supposed to be going so I pulled up to one of the guard shacks and asked if I was in the right spot. The guy told me that I was where I needed to be, just pull into the garage and I would be fine. So, I did as I was told and pulled up. My Spidey Sense immediately began tingling when I was asked to take a ticket and saw a sign which said parking was $3 an hour when the golf ticket said parking was included, but I assumed there would be some kind of validation system to take care of that, found a spot to park and went outside to find out where I would grab the shuttle.

Outside the garage there was still no sign telling me which way to go so I took a left and hoped for the best. (Seriously, the USGA just signed a new TV deal with Fox. Hopefully all this new money will allow them to splurge on some signs if the event ever comes back this way.) After a few minutes of walking in that direction I found a BC employee and asked if I was headed in the right direction. She had no idea, but told me to head inside a nearby building and ask a manager, who was sure to know. I went inside, where there was no manager to be found. Discouraged I headed back the way I came and for a moment I was pleased when I saw a line of vans blow past me and stop at a shuttle waiting area. I assumed I was in luck but suddenly all three (empty) vans took off almost as quickly as they arrived. I thought that was odd and not particularly efficient but at least I was in the right spot and assumed another one would be on its way soon. So and I waited... and I waited. Half an hour later with no more vans in sight I started to get thoroughly pissed off and convinced I was in the wrong location. However, I couldn't ask anyone if this was where I needed to be because every time I tried to make eye contact with someone wear a BC jacket or driving a BC golf cart they would lower their head and speed up (so much for that Jesuit spirit of service). Finally the guy picking up the mail had to stop in front of me, which was when I cornered him and found out I was in totally the wrong spot because I was supposed to be on the "Brighton Campus".

As it turns out, for as small as Boston College's campus is they still feel the need to divide into two halves with two different names. Despite the fact that I was less than I mile from where I was supposed to be I was technically on the wrong campus and the guy in the guard shack was an idiot who "never should have told you to go into the garage." (And here I thought BC was supposed to be full of smart people.) At this point I was seething at the amount of my time which had just been wasted and having to pay to get my car out of the garage on top of that nearly sent me over the edge. (I know it was only $3, but it was the principle of the thing.) That is why instead of driving the couple of blocks to where the rest of the golf fans had parked and taking the free shuttle to the golf course I opted to do my original plan, which was break the law. I drove over to Brookline, went to the Lars Anderson playground and parked my truck right in front of a barricade which said "Brookline Residents Only - Tow Zone" and started walking towards The Country Club, daring the universe to mess with me in my current mood. And do you know what happened next? Not a damn thing. I went to the Country Club, got to walk all around (it's very nice, but I have no pressing need to befriend a member) and came back to find my truck exactly where I left it. It just goes to show you, sometimes doing the wrong thing is the right move.