That afternoon, as the the sun was approaching the horizon and the excitement of the golf action was in full swing, I made my way toward the clubhouse to find out about public transportation options. I only asked a couple of volunteers and one police officer but, surprisingly, no one could point me in the direction of a public vehicle that could take me back to the Hyatt Regency. Evidently, most fans either drove themselves to the event or already had some form of transportation lined up upon departure. It was a strange feeling to be in the middle of this golf oasis with no plan for how to get back to the hotel. Not only that but, since I had been walking around in the sun all day, I was starting to get hot and thirsty… at least enough to be willing to pay for an overpriced beverage being offered by the concessions tents near the practice facility. Just then, almost by magic, a sign pointed me in the right direction.
A large, air-conditioned tent that blocked my view of the driving range had a sign at the entrance stairs that read “Mastercard Members Only.” I had a Mastercard in my wallet but I did not know what it meant to be a member, so I inquired with the lady at the top of the stairs. She quickly glanced at the Mastercard from my wallet, gave me a wrist band and allowed me to enter the tent. Inside was a cool and comfortable lounge, one with a few open tables and seats, a bar with a nice drink selection, and a few TV screens broadcasting the golf event taking place just outside. Across from the bar was a wall with floor-to-ceiling windows that gave way to a gorgeous view of the driving range. It felt like I had snuck into a VIP pavilion. This was a treat: I still had no idea how I was getting back to the hotel, but I at least I could contemplate my options in a VIP-style lounge with a panoramic view of the world’s best golfers honing their craft. Being in the air-conditioning almost made me forget how thirsty I was. I did not have to pay to enter the Mastercard tent and, come to think of it, I had not even paid admission into the event at all. If a drink at the bar in this tent was to be the first time I had to pay for anything all afternoon, then I would have gladly obliged. Between that and whatever I would have to pay for a ride back to the hotel, both would probably be overpriced but well worth it in that scenario.
The next stroke of luck changed all of that.
Protected: My Luckiest Day, Part 7: Two Hall of Famers Walk Into a Bar
Fatherhood and Marriage 