The Unfortunate Hiccup
While walking around my office a few minutes ago I paused to look at this thing. It’s a hip pocket flask that was made to hold a “3/16th pint” of libation. It says so right there on the bottom. The silver overlay on the bottle is applied by a complex chemical procedure. If it was a Russian icon, you’d have to call it an oklad, but this is different.
The swirly engraved initials near the bottom were adeptly applied, ostensibly to identify the owner who will always remain a mystery to me because I can’t read the fancy letters.
At the 1949 Master’s Golf Tournament I observed a nattily dressed gentleman use a pair of binoculars to watch Sam putt on the 10th green. It was a little strange because the man was standing less than thirty feet away from where the putt was about to be made.
And then I noticed something. The fan wasn’t watching golf at all. He also held a flask in his hands, and every time he raised the binoculars to his eyes, he took a swig from the bottle. It was a subterfuge that very effectively disguised his odd drinking practice. No one seemed to notice but me, and just as Sam drew his putter back to make the stroke, the natty guy hiccupped, causing the putt to jerk left a few inches and unceremoniously roll past the hole. I felt partially to blame just because I was watching it.
As the crowd moved to the next tee the binocular guy was noticeably teetering to the starboard side. That’s why I moved to the 13th fairway and watched Jimmy Demaret hit his mashie niblick shot to the green. Sam Snead won the tournament so I went home happy.
Surely it won’t be long before our government enacts legislation that prohibits anyone from drinking and watching golf at the same time.f