The smell of money

When my parents passed away they gave up their Master's tickets instead of willing them to the kids.  They got on the list back in the 60s and finally got them about 1970 and went whenever health permitted.  After a bit they just sold them for it was more fun to watch it on TV and you could see more and mostly they could whoop and holler over a good shot.  Having the tickets and giving them away was also a discrete show of "wealth or something" as in, 'why yes I have them but we chose to just stay home and not fight the crowds'.

I did enjoy my infrequent visits there and seeing the landscape.  I didn't enjoy the money part though as the local businesses made their entire year's profit on "Master's week" and local Bush field became a wall to wall or better yet a wingtip to wingtip show of business jets.  Now we have Tiger week at Master's Week and frankly I can see why he chose this safe venue...if anyone even breaths too loud they are shown the front gate so his chance of being heckled is slim and none and he can pursue his rehab (whatever that is) and earn a million...good work if you can get it.  The crowd will drink their martinis near the clubhouse and agree how wonderful golf is to give this fellow the opportunity to redeem himself (to whom for what) and we will get our insufferable look at what money smells like.