It's hard to find a good miniature golf course these days. They either fall into the giant castle with gross water all around it and little imagination camp or into the so ramshackle that you risk getting tetanus if you play variety. Luckily, South Lake Tahoe has a very cool, old school course that Sara and I go to when we are particularly jonesing for some goofy golf action.
There are three courses to pay: Fairybook, which is a bunch of fairy tales with some randomness thrown in, Dinosaurs, which is what it sounds like with an especially malaevolent monkey with glowing eyes for color, and the Castle, which is the best and longest and features one hole where a big black rubber spider springs up and down over the hole.
It's funny, I used to play mini golf with my dad in that, "your mother and I divorced when you were very young and I can't quite figure out how to entertain you and your brother" sort of way. He loved golf, but I wonder if he loved the small version. Anyway, my question is, given that I played a lot of golf growing up, why do I utterly suck and get trounced by Sara each time?
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