A Weekend Jaunt: Part 4 – St. Andrews, Old Course

Previous Trip Notes
A Weekend Jaunt – Part 1: UA950 Business Class: IAD > BRU
A Weekend Jaunt – Part 2: 5 Hours in Brussels
A Weekend Jaunt – Part 3: Sheraton Grand & Edinburgh
A Weekend Jaunt: Part 4 – St. Andrews, Old Course

We went to bed around 10pm the night before – which was easy given the jet-lag. We didn’t set an alarm or ask for a wake-up call, as even if we slept for a crazy 10-hours, we would have been up by 8am – and we didn’t need to pick up our rental car until 11am. Well, as I stirred in the morning, and saw some sunlight peeking in through the drawn shades, I looked at the clock: 11:30. That’s strange. 11:30pm and it’s light out? I turned on the TV…the news stated 11:30. In. The. Morning. Oh no.

Noah: Dad, get up. It’s 11:30am.
Dad: Wait. What?
Noah: It’s 11:30am. We are late. We have to go.
Dad: Ummm. It’s 11:30am?
Noah: I’m jumping in the shower. Can you pack up? I’ll go get the rental car.

I jumped in the shower, threw on some clothes, and took off to the lobby. I grabbed a taxi to Avis. And then I waited. There was one backpacking couple in front of me. And it took them, forever. It was so painful. I stood there, just waiting. Finally, it was my turn.

Agent: Sir, I’m sorry but your confirmed automatic car is not available. We only have manual cars.
Noah: I confirmed an automatic. I even confirmed a smaller car to ensure that I had an automatic.
Agent: I’m sorry. We only have manual cars.
Noah: Do you have any single car, in any class, that is automatic? I have to drive 2 hours, and I’m already nervous about driving on the left side of the road.
Agent: No, I’m sorry, I only have manual cars.

5 minutes later I tried to enter the car on the front-left side of the car…damnit! Wrong side. I ran around to get in the right side. I couldn’t find the parking break. I ran back in. The agent came out and showed me the fancy-shmancy button in the car. Ok great. I can’t reach the pedals. I ran back in. The agent came out and showed me the double-secret lever to move the seat.

I’m on my way. I’m at the Sheraton. The concierge sees me pull up and gets a hyper-excited look…”sir, you dropped your passport. I was hoping you would come back.” What a morning.

I rented a GPS unit with the car, even though all accounts were that this would be an easy drive. Roughly 1.5-2 hours. So we hit the road. 90 minutes. We’ll be at St. Andrews by 1:30pm, for a 2:20pm tee-time. Easy! But it’s Easter Weekend. In every place I’ve every lived, that means less traffic. In Scotland, where Easter Weekend is equivalent to St. Patrick’s Day in the US, that means trouble.

The GPS unit would slowly change it’s estimated time of arrival as traffic slowed us down. 13:32 arrival time. 13:34 arrival time. 13:40 arrival time. Oh, this wasn’t good. We managed to get over the bridge. Traffic began to flow. All was good. Stop. 13:44 arrival time. 1:48 arrival time. Roundabouts. Nothing but roundabouts. 13:50 arrival time. Still 30 minutes to practice – all was good. We hit the highway, and I started to fly. 13:49 arrival time. 13:48 arrival time. We were GOLDEN. Exit. Roundabout. 13:50 arrival time. Traffic. 13:55 arrival time. 14:00pm arrival time. Oh god, the GPS is telling us to go right – the sign is telling us to go left. We made the wrong choice. 14:05 arrival time. 14:15 arrival time. We are now officially IN TROUBLE. We hit a 2-lane road. Ridiculous curves. There are goats. We are going as fast as the car can take us, hitting 90 MPH….on literally two lane roads that have close to hair-pin turns. We can feel it – we are going to make it a few minutes early. St. Andrews traffic. Shit. 14:16 arrival time. Traffic. It’s 14:18 when we pull in the parking lot. We grab our bags. And run. We make it in to the clubhouse at 14:21. We are late. You don’t get to tee off if you are late, at St. Andrews, at the Old Course.

OK. So we are screwed. I’ve already let it register in my mind. I’ve been planning this trip for months and months. Getting a tee-time is ridiculously tough. Getting business class tickets and great hotels surrounding the tee-time is even harder. A once in a lifetime opportunity…squandered on the longest sleep of my life. How impossible. We talk to the clubhouse manager. He tells us we are probably out of luck, but to head to the starter and see if there’s any way he can help us out.

We take a cart-ride down. We talk to the starter. He found us a couple from Sweden who would let us play with them at 15:30. OMG. This is going to happen. What? You need our handicap cards? OK, no problem. What is that, you need a decent handicap to play? No problem – A golf-pro friend of mine thought my handicap was a 23, so that’s what I am 🙂

We were about to tee-off…

About to tee-off…

We hired caddies, because, of course. Not the best lay for NSPdad:

St. Andrews Bunker

This place is crazy. I’m shooting a 49 after nine holes. Nothing could have prepared me for links golf. So different. I can’t even explain the sights: