Prestwick

For those who don't know (and I assume most), Prestwick is a town on the west coast of Scotland about a half hour from Glasgow.  If you don't know where Glasgow is, well believe it or not your geography is worse than mine... and that's pretty bad.  First thing I noticed
was how tiny everything was, from houses to streets to traffic lights and store signs.  It's one place where being short is not only an advantage but a natural safety precaution.

For some reason in the UK they don't think street signs are overly important and it gets worse in the smaller towns.  Put a couple signs at the ends of the street and all is good... unless you arrive at the street in the middle, now you're F'd.  But just to give you a small sense of direction and hope, maps are labelled perfectly, "Most be one of things where it looked good on paper, but could never work in real life.  Well I have a hint, street signs work really damn well."  So anyway, after walking around lost for two hours the map became more of a piss off than anything because the only way it was of any use was if I was 500 feet in the air with a bird's eye view of how the streets turn and curve.

However, the upside to this excursion was the scenery and being out by the sea.  the mountains/hills (not quite sure what they're actually referred to) in the distance with the clouds resting on top looked pretty awesome.  Not to mention all the golf courses that line the coast.  Not only did it look gorgeous but the weather was nice enough that people were playing a round in February.  The weather the next day wasn't so good since snow covered everything, but that still didn't stop them even though it works against them in every possible way.

First, the golf carts can't handle it because as mentioned in my previous blog, if a little bit of snow can shut down London, what chance does a golf cart have.  Second, because everything around them is white, their ridiculous outfits attract the human eye even more.  Thirdly, and you would assume most obvious, they would realize they're hitting a tiny 'white' ball hundreds of yards away from them into a big field of 'white' snow.  Then, after getting their cart unstuck and pushing it halfway along the hole, they're all asking each other if they saw where each others' balls went.  Unable to find them they pull out a new set of 'white' balls and repeat the same process.  I must say though, it was impressive.  They're probably more dedicated to golf than Canadians are to hockey.  I'll be honest, if I'm playing pond hockey and keep tripping on rocks or go through the ice I think I'll just call it a day, not move over and hope for the best.