Jeff, Dave and Ronnie, and Chris, too.
J.O.’s from Missouri, 69, retired. Don’t know what he did, but he must have done pretty well, since he lives part-time in a 3-bedroom oceanfront condo.
Dave and Del are from Calgary. Del’s my age and chatty, Dave’s younger and kind of quiet. A couple of regular guys who love their hockey and beer.
Jeff and Dave are from Boise. Their buddy Ron lives in St. Louis. They’re my age. They went to the University of Wisconsin together, and get together every year to eat shrimp quesadillas and drink beer. Every day.
And finally, Chris. Chris has lived in suburban Minneapolis for a dozen years. He’s 62, a Wallingford native, and visits family in Connecticut regularly. He was downsized from his career at Philip Morris. Still smokes the product, though, despite having a heart attack 10 years ago. (Yes, he knows.) He’s a political conservative, loves watching O’Reilly.
These are the people I was paired up with on the golf courses in and around Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.
I don’t ask them questions. I’m on vacation from asking questions. So what I know about them (J.O., not much; Chris, quite a bit), they volunteer in the course of chit-chat. (Chris on the 6th hole: “Is your name Brooks?” “Yup. You got me.”)
It’s one of the reasons I enjoy playing on vacation. I get to meet new people, and over the years, 95% of them have been good people. After all, the common denominator is that we’re on vacation, playing golf. And we’ll never see each other again.
Fleeting relationships. But good ones.