You know what I’ve never done and always wanted to try? Miniature golf! So Rob and I are off to Castle Park in Sherman Oaks for a round or two, despite his protests—he says he’s not very good at it. But who am I not to take advantage of a weak opponent?
Just asking here: Is there a mini-golf course in the world that’s content just leaving water its natural color?
Teeing off on the first hole. Obviously, miniature golf still isn’t very “miniature” at my size, but luckily, the rules allow that I can whack the ball proportionally harder than a human can. Fore!
Hey, you German kids! Get off my green!
Okay, what were the odds of putting it right on the edge of the gutter on a steep incline? Tough break there, Rob. Also? That’s an extra stroke for you.
Man, Rob really is sucking wind here. I’m just a rabbit, and I’m up by 19 as we approach the last hole.
Second round. Is there anything worse than landing the ball right outside the hole when you were just under par going in?
Look, a haunted house. Ooooh, “scary.” Wanna go check it out?
Hey, Boo Radley, come on out—I just left some crap in the tree for ya!
I’ll never be more than an armchair archeologist, but I’m pretty sure these ruins are those of a 20th-century North American fake tribe.
But hey, if they have to be fake ruins, they might as well be ultra-fake, right? Or ultraviolet-fake, as the case may be. Don’t see me? I’m sitting on the wall, wearing the green glow-in-the-dark bracelet.
So yeah, we changed venues. Welcome now to the Putting Edge in Culver City, where everything is extra-groovy. Try not to trip, in any sense of the word.
You may be wondering, aside from having fluorescent obstacles, how does blacklight golf work when you’ll otherwise be fumbling around in the semi-dark? Simple—everything glows, from the putters and balls to the hole linings and even the scorecards and pencils. They thought of everything!
And yes, we tried taking some photos with the flash just in case no-flash didn’t work out, but as you can see, it’s simply not the same.
A blacklight waterfall? Snow-capped mountains? LSD-induced melting sky? Your guess is as good as mine.
Surrounded by six goofy monkeys—it’s practically like I’m home with my brothers, isn’t it?
And now, having trumped Rob by double digits yet again, time for a little arcade action. This is way better than real driving—none of that exchanging-insurance nonsense!
I do like my air hockey. C’mon, show me whatcha got, show me whatcha got.
But, er…could you give me a hand with the strum bar?
Ah, skeeball, my nemesis. We meet again. Only this time, I’ll be the one to triumph.
And triumph I did, or at least I scored enough tickets to get a low-end prize. Who says a six-inch plastic backscratcher isn’t useful to anybody?
And now that I’ve depleted Rob of quarters as well as his dignity, I guess we’re done here. This was great fun, though—how soon do you think I can talk him into a rematch?
