Some of you may recall that I moved back "home" last summer. Or rather, I moved back to where my immediate family calls home, which is Augusta, GA. This morning I woke up to the sound of plane engines rumbling over head. I wasn't too happy about it having gone to bed with a headache which had persisted most of the night.
Curious, I wiped the sleep out of my eyes and stumbled to the window and stuck me head out for a look. I spotted two small aircraft circling overhead. For a second I was perplexed then it dawned on me, "Oh yeah, the Masters." If Augusta, GA sound a bit familiar to you but you weren't sure why, now you know. It's the home of the Masters Golf Tournament - this town's one claim to fame. The air traffic is from all the small aircraft and private jets that come in for the event.
My apartment is less than a quarter mile from the golf course, and about 2 miles from the private airport where these planes land. For 358 days of the year, this priavate airport is empty. You see the occassion plane here and there, and there's an airshow in the autumn. Other than that it's dead silent. Not so this week. Living on this side of town, there is no buffer zone between the residence and the madness. The entire community will be packed with golfers, people who have tickets for the tournament and people who don't but wish they did. Personally, I'll be hibernating to avoid the traffic and mass drama of this really BIG event being held in a really small town.
Next year I might have to do as many of the locals do, which is leave when the golfers arrive. The house I bought is even closer to the golf course and the main artery out of the subdivision, feeds into the main street where the golf course entrance is located. A lot people on this side of town rent their homes out for the Masters and take vacation since it's also Spring Break for the kiddies. I'd have to vacation alone or with friends since my kids work for the Masters.
My ex owns a restaurant and catering business that is besieged during this tournament. The kids and their close friends like to make extra cash by helping out in the kitchen, delivering food trays to people who are renting accommodations and don't want to cook or being wait-staff for any of the large dinners he caters during this time. I remember the year I designed special menus that had the names of the finalists on the covers. Each name was hand-penned with the first initial done in gold leaf. It took me many hours to do them all. One night I got a frantic call from the restaurant - of course it was late, bad things always happen when it's late - while I was home with the kids, saying that the menus were disappearing and they didn't have enough to serve the customers.
I was like, "Huh?" Until they explained that people were stealing them for mementos or in hopes of getting them signed. That was a huge "Doh!" on my part. I had to run off copies and race them down to the restaurant. Another year we got to host the Mayor's ball and another year the Press Associations dinner. Fun times - back in the day. Damn, I feel old. It all seems like a life time ago now. *Smile*
Well, I'm back and will be here for the crowds and the madness. Don't bother trying to eat out in this town this week, unless you've had a reservation for months. Even the fast-food places will be jammed packed because of all the tourists. As for me, I'll just hibernate in my bunker, happy that all the paperwork for the house is done now, and I'm just waiting for the closing date to arrive.
Two more planes just flew by. I guess I should actually start working. Thank goodness there's leftovers from dinner for lunch.
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