Monday, August 6, 2007

Day 1A: Welcome to the 2007 PGA Championship

My cell phone decided to play a trick on me in the morning by not waking me when I told it to, and it was only in sheer luck that I woke up at 10: 15, 45 minutes before I was supposed to be at 'work'. I showered quickly and inhaled a bowl of Cheerios before bidding Wendy and the girls (themselves eating a french toast/cool whip/strawberries concoction) good day. The jaunt over to the course was as short as advertised, and I entered the gates at Southern Hills
with only minutes to spare. To be fair, showing up on time (not to mention showing up at all) was really up to me, seeing how I already had my grounds pass and I'd never met any supervisor type people and they had no way of invalidating my credentials, nevermind the fact that I hadn't had to pay for my ticket. Sure enough, Neal my sort of supervisor admitted that they do get quite a lot of no-shows among the Junior Volunteers for that very reason. The less morally responsible of us apparently see it as a way of scoring a free weekly ticket to the PGA. I hope that made sense.

I felt I had been told to park in Lot Z, which was the closest of all the parking lots. The attendant thought I was nuts, because most of the cars in there belonged to VIP guests, players cars or courtesy cars owned by the tournament. I convinced him that although I lacked a parking pass with a big 'ol Z on it, I was in fact a volunteer and should be allowed to park there. The lot itself was on the fairways and greens of Southern Hills' other course. I felt kinda bad driving all over a golf course, but I think they make more than enough money hosting one of these things to justify temporarily ruining one of their courses.


Can you find my car?


Anyway, I checked in a little after 11, but not before leaving my cell phone at the 'tech check' because phones are apparently just too noisy for golf. Cameras are allowed Monday-Wednesday, but prohibited during the actual rounds of the championship. Neal showed me the ropes of my job, which was basically directing shoppers (I work in the merchandise tent, by the way) to either check-out line. I stand there for hours at a time, asking, "ready to checkout? head just this way (pointing)" And that's pretty much it. I met two local high school girls, Casey and Caroline. who worked with me, and we chatted idly about Tulsa, what there was to do in the city, and made fun of goofy shoppers and the things they'd buy.

Not a whole lot to say about my shift (which was to last until 3:30). At one point I thought I saw Tiger Woods, but it was just a look-alike. Jerry Kelly asked me where he, as a player, was supposed to checkout, but I told him I had no idea. I didn't at the time realize who he was, only realizing that he looked familiar, in the way that a landscaper of your house would... Someone you see with some regularity but is far from a celebrity. Once I was told who it was, I had an "ooooo of course" moment.


Jerry Kelly

At 3:30 I was ready to take off my volunteer's skirt and put on my Barbara Streisand in The Prince of Tides ass-making spectator pantsuit, (I really hope someone got that) so I stepped out into the sweltering Oklahoma daylight and began to walk the grounds, camera in hand, ready to soak up the sun, sights and swings.

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