The Amazing Race

Starting date: Sunday July 10th 2005

Route: Toledo OH to Halifax Nova Scotia.

Purpose: Play in The BMO Canadian Woman's Open.

Cast of characters;:

We begin.

Each year, The BMO visits a different part of the vast Canadian landscape in a truly magnanimous gesture to spread the allure of women's professional golf. This year's destination was a first time stop in Halifax Nova Scotia. A quick gaze at the map reveals that Halifax is not the easiest location for travel to especially from Toledo OH. Being a previously unvisited venue and a scheduled Monday Pro-Am, a Sunday evening arrival was paramount but it was not to be. The plan was to fly out of Detroit (a short drive from Toledo) stop in Toronto then continue onto Halifax. But a host of events would commit our cast of characters to a fifteen hour bus ride reminiscent of a Seinfeld episode.

The Toledo-Detroit-Toronto legs went without a hitch but untimely repairs to the runways of The Halifax International Airport runways resulted in numerous flight cancellations including our Air Canada LPGA special. Seems the ILS (Instrument Landing System) was down and coupled with dense fog conditions made it all but impossible to land. An overnight stay (some got a freebie and some not) in Toronto was deemed necessary but in actuality aggravated the situation.

You see, the law of supply and demand, more asses than seats, would leave some travelers behind with absolutely no guarantee of even getting on a flight till Wednesday or Thursday! It was time for someone to take charge. Maggie Will, one of the most organized people I know, went into action. Calls to tournament headquarters eventually found the ear of the president of Air Canada himself. Michelle, his personal assistant, was assigned the task of transporting the stragglers to Halifax and a piecemeal plan was put in effect. She could get them on a flight to Montréal and take a bus from there but this presented another dilemma. Who was taking the plane and who the bus? A group was formed, including a few with guaranteed seats on the next flight out, to "Take one for the team" as Maggie put it. It was kind of a Three Musketeers thing. One for all ...

The Musketeers

Makaela Parmlid was one of the selected few but missed the flight to Montréal due to illness. Her discomfort turned into a stroke of good luck though, as she managed to get on the Monday flight out of Toronto and beat the bus-bound vagabonds.

No problem on the trip to Montréal except for a glitch in baggage retrieval. As the bags began to stack up on the carousel, Michelle Simpson dropped her cell phone into the pile!  Heard the search for the errant device was quite a sight. 

As the venturous volunteers prepared for the bus trip to Halifax, Maggie spotted a gentleman, donning a golf shirt, and decided to strike up a conversation. She learned he was a club pro from Charlotte and on his way to Halifax to meet his wife. Figuring she may be part of the tournament, Maggie invited him along for the trip. Now this may seem out of the ordinary but their exchange revealed he had been stuck in Montréal for five days with only a one-in-three chance of snagging a seat on the next flight! The funny thing is, he nor his significant other had no part in the BMO but the call to her must have sounded hilarious. Part of it went something like this. His wife complained "There's some golf tournament in town and I'm having a hell of a time finding a room." He retorted "Honey, you won't believe who I'm on the bus with!" 

This is where the real fun begins. Such a big bus and only a handful of occupied seats is such a waste so the vacancies were offered to the other marooned misfits. Three elderly female traveling buddies (The Ya-Ya's) and the lone ranger from the Land of the Rising Sun.

Enter Pierre. While boarding the bus, the vision of the bare chested, sweaty driver puffing on a Canadian coffin nail induced a sense of foreboding. Having only 10 hours of rest and an 800+ mile trip on the horizon, Pierre was in no mood for congenial discourse. Maggie promptly reminded him that smoking was verboten on a public transport but was quickly rebuffed with a sobering retort of "Get off". It was obvious Pierre carried himself with the aplomb of a Clint Eastwood highway cowboy and was not to be reasoned with. They all boarded the bus and headed out.

Didn't take long to figure out sustenance in snack form was to be attended to, so a stop at a local convenience store was contrived.  Of course an array of chips and other delicacies were purchased along with an abundant amount of the local brew. A road trip without suds is like _.  Well, I'll let you fill in the blank.

Pierre had another stopover in mind. The name of the town has been long forgotten along with his eatery of choice but Pierre knew this route well and a familiar gastric delight was not to be missed. His charge was duly warned. The selection was a homemade sausage accompanied by a Pepsi chaser. This, as it turned out, was no ordinary wiener. It was huge. With enough mass to satisfy the most veracious appetite. As his head bobbed while gobbling up the meaty tube steak, flashes of erotica were unavoidable. 

At first, the trip was more of a chance to experience a form of camaraderie, rarely seen on tour, than a royal pain in the backside. The bus was equipped with three DVD integrated TV's so a night at the movies was on the agenda. Players always carry some flicks to pass the time and this trip exhausted three of them.

You would think this arduous journey would tax the fortitude of the three Ya-Ya's, given their ages, but not so. They always travel together and found this quite adventurous. At one point, dancing in the aisle was part of their repertoire. Remember the Lone Ranger? One of the elderly trio caught his ear and carried on a one way conversation for most of the trip. 

As the miles piled up, a decision had to be made. They could stop at a reasonable hour, grab six to seven hours sleep and arrive around noon or push on through and get in around five in the morning. Since it was not an even split between men and women possible pairings were bandied about and roommates were decided upon but turned out to be an unnecessary diversion. They all wanted to stop except for two. The husband-wife team, thought I forgot about him didn't ya, were the only dissenters. You would think majority rules, but in this current climate of avoiding all appearance of not offending someone, common sense took its leave and they chose to go on. Given the duration Pierre had been on the road without rest, what good is risking winding up in a ditch just to save a bit of time?

The last five hours was worth the price of admission, or not. Pierre was toast. Having gone well beyond the call of duty, help was solicited from the weary passengers to complete the journey. Driving a two lane road, in the dead of night, drained of vitality and awaiting the calm and serenity only The Sand Man can bring, is a disaster in the making. The plan was to keep the bus in the fairway and Pierre awake. To give him a little more wiggle room, the center line was now their guide. Keep it in the middle of the bus, pump Pierre full of Pepsis, smoke till he chokes and never stop talking to him. Worked like a charm..

After fifteen hours on the road they finally made it. Tuesday, 5 AM on the dot. Thoroughly grateful, a generous gratuity was collected from all aboard but some still weren't satisfied with Pierre's performance. The final destination was the main tournament hotel in downtown Halifax but the couple who nixed the nights sleep weren't staying there. Since it was too early for the transportation folks to be about, they demanded to be taken to their hotel. How did you think this went over with Pierre? Not a chance. So, they actually wanted some of their tip back! The two opted for a cab the rest of the way. Fifteen minutes later transportation showed up. Serves them right.

Ah, the fame and glory of being on The LPGA Tour. These are the stories no one hears.

That Seinfeld episode I was alluding to? Remember Kramer's story of taking over the bus after the driver was mugged, fighting off the mugger, kicking him out the door and still making all the stops? I can just picture a bus comprised of Ya-Ya's dancing in the aisle, players and caderos guzzling beers and watching movies, that poor Japanese guy getting his ear chewed off, the golf pro wondering what he's doing there and Pierre, the sweaty, chain smoking, Pepsi slurping driver performing epicurean fellatio on that sausage while still making all the stops. Priceless. 

Return to Stories