Rustic Gardens

This weekend proved to be yet another busy weekend in the Hawkins household, and Saturday evening provided Erin with one of her more memorable experiences as a Hoosier. The evening started off nicely with dinner with my grandparents at our local Uno Chicago Grill. We've been to this place a few times over the past couple of months, and every time we've had surprisingly good food. The time with my grandparents was great, as always, and we enjoyed getting to catch up with them. After dinner, we decided that rather than head home to bed or go to the gym or eat something healthy, we would extend our evening with a little competition at Rustic Gardens.

Now Rustic Gardens really has to be seen to be believed, but I'll do what I can here. (I searched high and low for a website for this place, but I'm somehow guessing that the owners aren't too interested in the Internet. There was a sign by the cash register announcing that any website having anything to do with Rustic Gardens was not run by Rustic Gardens... It was a friendly sign with a "We don't take no out of state checks" kind of demeanor...) First off, let it be known that I was not Erin's only source of information on Rustic Gardens. Some of her students had gone there with the mini golf club at her school and agreed that it was an interesting outing. Plus Erin and I are always up for a little friendly marital competition, even if we do run the risk of Erin getting us kicked out with her potty mouth.

Back to my description. First off, the course has been a staple in Indianapolis since the 1930's, and you're greeted at the end of the gravel driveway by a boarded up log cabin. There's really no information about it, it's just a graffiti-covered log cabin with a sign saying something like "Est. 1824" on the front. Down the gravel drive are two more log structures, one housing the pro shop (I use this term very loosely...all it houses is a cash register and a stock of 50 year old putting devices), the other serves as an outhouse. Now Rustic Gardens isn't just your average miniature golf place. Each hole ranges probably 10 to 30 yards long on normal lawn grass, and the area around the cup, normally referred to in golf circles as "the green" is a sort of cement and sand combination. Nothing green about it. You might be thinking, "Oh, this sounds like a chip and putt kind of place." Au contraire. That would be accurate if they gave you anything but a putter, but they don't. Therefore you tee the ball up (no joke) and hit it full steam with a putter. Amidst the grass and concrete are various concrete structures, most of which are in such disrepair that they have been garnered unrecognizable, but they serve as obstacles none the less. One of Erin's favorite holes (pictured here on someone else's blog who I do not know, but I found it on Yahoo so I can link to it, right? Thank you to whoever the goofy looking guy in the photo is... At least they were smart enough to carry a camera along...) Anyway, one of Erin's favorite holes featured merely a dirt ramp that dropped over the edge onto the concrete surface. All of this wackiness makes for an interesting evening of competition.

Another facet of the experience which I can't neglect to mention is my fellow citizens of Indianapolis who flock to this place in packs. The people watching is supreme. The entire time you're playing, you have to be on the lookout for people teeing up and sending the ball sailing over (or into) your head. I'm relatively sure you could invent a new game where you try to catch the ball in your mullett, as it seemed to be a required hairstyle for the evening. (Here are some mullett pics for the uninitiated.) In any case, the experience also reminded us of some of the horrors of having a daughter in the future. For example, young ladies, if the pockets on your cutoffs extend below where you cut them off, they might be too short. Same rule if you have to tuck your underwear under the leg of your cutoffs. Too short. It humored me that we saw one couple with a young lady in just the type of shorts I'm describing, while her charming beau had "shorts" that he held onto the whole round with one hand to keep them from falling off, while his boxers continued covering the rest of his backside. Gentlemen, if you can do a sit-down job in the bathroom without unbuckling your belt, we have a problem.

Anyway, the evening was an interesting one, and it was only capped off when on the last couple of holes I spied chickens running lose around the course (keep in mind that this is all within Indianapolis city limits.) The guy managing the cash register was handing out bags of chicken feed to kids, so apparently this is normal at Rustic Gardens. In the end, Erin and I ended up tied, which was a good thing. Otherwise Erin might have said a swear and hit a chicken with her putter.

Following the mini golf, we went downtown for a dessert of chocolate fondue. For me, fondue is still too much effort. If I want a banana covered in chocolate, why do I need to put it on the end of a spear and subject it to flaming hot chocolate before poking myself in the face with the spear and depositing the searing hot chocolate on my chin? It all seems like too much work...but Erin likes it, so it's all good with me.