Pane

Dear Whoever You Might Be,

      Let me tell you a little something about my bedroom window.
      Compared to the grandiose windows I had at both college and home, my City of Angeles bedroom window pales in comparison. It doesn't quite measure up, if you catch my drift. And outside this window is a view unlike any other. Apparently it is a big deal around here, but having looked out of this window for a week and a half now, I have come up with a few opinions of my own.
      My bedroom window looks over a golf course. Now, I will not tell you which course (in case any of you fine readers just so happen to double as creepy stalkers), but know that it is a fully-functional, all day/every day course. Every morning, I wake up earlier than I would like since I have yet to invest in curtains, and I take a look outside of my window. And every single day, no matter what time of day, I see the exact same thing. Golfers.
      There is a hole closest to my view of the course, and without fail, I see men in a myriad of polo shirts and crew cut socks making their way to this hole, standing around the hole, and moving past it towards the next. It matters not whether the time be seven in the morning or seven in the evening--- the golfers never fail to show up. It is a wonder to me, really, that there are always players out there. Weekday? Yes. Weekend? Obviously. Who knew so many golf enthusiasts lived around this area?
      Do not judge me, I beg of you. I have absolutely nothing against golf/golfers/golf courses. Hell Heck, I cheered on Bubba Watson during his acceptances of the Master's green jacket. I choked up in sentimentality as he shed tears in gratitude and awe. I have even become a recent fan of Rory McIlroy (although who wouldn't think the Irish athlete isn't a dream?). But in my years of watching Dad watch golf, I have learned a few things. First, don't watch if you are tired. The soothing claps and monotonous headlining is sure to put even the most enthused fan to snores. Second, the bad players get no air time. No explanation needed.
      So you are probably wondering how I dare to criticize my golf course view in Los Angeles. Well, it is simple. There is no change in the view. And there probably will not be for most of the year. Every time I look out the window it is the same scene. There are always golfers. Always clubs and carts. And since I highly doubt that they will be closing eventually for a deep winter chill, I have a feeling that I will be seeing the same merry-go-round movie for quite some time. I know I have no room to complain, but sometimes it just feels so monotonous. And I know that the palm trees won't change color come fall, and the three-year drought will have no dire effect on the greenness of the grass. But I wonder, will the golfers keep coming? Or will there come a day when everyone has gorged themselves enough on the sport and retire their clubs for a time?
      I guess I will just have to keep looking out my windowpane every day to get my answer.

                                                                             Sincerely,
                                                                                        Me