I attended the Northern Trust Open last weekend, and as you may imagine, Sunday’s crowd was overflowing. Some of you may be thinking, (those of you who do think), this could mean the stupers (short for ceaselessly stupid persons) were out in full force. You’d be right.
The weather was so perfect, the grounds immaculate, the company ideal, that I completely forgot about idiots until my son and I hatched a plan. We had trouble viewing the tee shots because of the crowd, so we forged two holes ahead of the lead group and patiently waited their arrival at the tee box. Brilliant, no? Son wanted to watch the swings, ball flights, etc. of the big guns, or clubs, in this case.
We waited. Others began to join us. Son said,
“I wish I could get a drink of water.”
Ever obliging, I remarked, “Go right ahead. I’ll save your spot.”
“There’s no way you can save it; way too many people are coming.”
“I’ll just use my famous space saver maneuver like this. Works every time.”
I placed my hands on my hips, elbows threateningly jutting outward, and began to rapidly rotate my upper body (lower half kept perfectly stationary). Unfortunately, I was thwarted by a stuper.
The second I turned sideways, she slipped in and next to me. I threw her my dirtiest look because I do not appreciate when one entire side of my body is needlessly and involuntarily pressed against that of another. She looked right back at me. Every time I looked at her, she stared blankly back.
For the next ten minutes, her shoulder was glued to my arm, the top of which she periodically laid her head to rest. This, of course, occurred when she wasn’t blowing her nose or coughing in my direction. Any time I turned to look down at her, she stared back. No mercy.
When the fellow on the other side of Son left, Son took one step sideways to restore my space; I rejoiced and praised the Lord. However, the second I moved over, so did she, glued to my side as she was.
For those of you who are motivated to watch this in action, please play the video below. Forward to the 45 seconds mark, and watch the next ten seconds. You won’t see me due to the dedicated plump chap in the lime green shirt holding a microphone just behind golfer, Steve Stricker. The chap preserved my anonymity while entirely blocking my view. But you may witness the stuper of whom I speak. She is the one you can see clearly, next to the lime green shirt, bobbing her body to her right, where I was standing. Pay particular attention to her head action, as she routinely buffeted her head sideways to slam my shoulder. Alas, the video doesn’t show the actual lengthy series of head snappings which I was subjected to.
My remedy for this type of behavior is quite satisfying. In these situations, I swear quite freely… in a different, lesser known language; it’s liberating, no one is offended, it’s highly entertaining for myself and I won’t be removed from the premises. I periodically cried out,
“Goh! Borow gome sho! etc.”
All I got from these magical words was the same blank stare from the stuper. But I felt profoundly better. Works every time. Unless, of course, the stuper happens to originate from the country whose curse words you are borrowing.