This weekend, my father, uncle and I flew over to Fredericksburg, Virginia, for the VA States Frisbee Tournament. We arrived Thursday morning in DC, and drove the long way down, through the countryside, past farms and creeks and rolling hills. We stopped at a diner along the way, and had scrambled eggs, home fries and english muffins, all with orange juice and coffee. We spent the day greeting old friends we hadn’t seen since last year’s Frisbee Tournament, and playing the disc golf course at Pratt Park, where the tournament would be held the next day. By the time darkness had fallen, we all were exhausted from running about with our frisbees. But we still had one more adventure planned for that day. We’d been invited by our good friends Sam and Jay to the Riverby Books used bookstore, which was owned by another friend named Paul, who would be playing in the tournament the following morning. Paul had set up an 18 hole mini frisbee golf course throughout his store, and we, the Californian team made up of Tom, Jeff, and myself, were playing against the local team, made up of Sam and Jay.
As we read over the obscure rules, certain things popped out to me, like how if you were to knock over a book on your throw, you gained a stroke, or how your hand had to be touching the place where your disc had landed, if it had landed on a bookshelf. We stepped up to Hole 1 and all took a shot at the target, which was a shelf up and around some obstacles, and had mixed results. Hole 2 had us throwing through a hole in one bookshelf, and 3 brought us down to the below ground level of the store onto a white couch. 7 had us back up to ground level, but throwing up into bags hanging from a balcony of the second story. Hole 9 took us from said balcony, and across the open space unto a cushioned seat. 10 was into a hanging weigh scale for fruit, and 11 was back downstairs. On 15, we were required to land in a velvet lined accordion case, and 16 was out the door into the rain. The final hole, 18, was around and down a staircase and into a cooler full of beer. In the end, it was the Californian team that won, but we all had a blast and had, for a little while at least, forgotten about the long, grueling, lost weekend ahead.