This past weekend, Catinlap, The Croin, and myself headed up to Solitude to play the course one last time with The Croin who is, quite literally, shipping out for parts known to do service for our country. It was not our best effort all the way around, and I managed to lose two my best discs--one swallowed up in a lush wetland and the other sailing off into a ravine. It was time that they were retired anyway.
As The Croin departs into the sunset, we can certainly hope that he will not keep loud celebration swearing at bay, as is requested by disc golf etiquette. Why the hell would you want to do that anyway? If you can't yell and swear in the great outdoors, where in the holy living fuck can you do it?
The Croin has left the building. (Well not quite yet, but I needed a good closing line.)
