For a New Yorker assignment unrelated to golf, I recently went to sea. I didn’t see anyone actually hitting golf balls—using the ocean as a driving range is no longer permitted on cruise ships—but I did serve as the gallery for two young people playing miniature golf:
They weren’t in perfect agreement about the rules, and when the girl left to do something else the boy switched to Whac-A-Mole:
Nearby, I watched an activity that was actually more golf-like, because it involved a middle-aged man attempting something he was physically incapable of doing:
At first, I worried that the guy had been propelled over the side of the ship, but I saw him later, having a stiff drink.