1: The Golf Trip Return

I’ve been playing golf for years, and I’m part of five local teams in Adelaide, South Australia. Every year, our teams organise an international tournament, and this time was no different. Mid-year, I joined one of the teams for a five-day, three-match trip to Malaysia. Since I live in the suburbs, the travel agency arranged a coach to shuttle us to and from the airport. With over twenty team members, we couldn’t all be picked up from home, so we were split across three meeting points. I had to make my own way to one of them.

The return trip from Malaysia was a riot. We cracked open the duty-free booze on the coach, and by the time we reached my drop-off point in Adelaide, it was past midnight, and I was a bit tipsy. My wife, Claire, had been notified to pick me up with my golf gear. A teammate, Ethan, lived along my route but his wife couldn’t drive, and he didn’t want to bother other mates so late. He’d asked me earlier if I could give him a lift home. I didn’t mind and agreed straight away.

2: The Unexpected Delay

When Ethan and I got off the coach at the drop-off point, we hauled our golf bags out. The coach, in a hurry to get the others home, sped off, leaving us in the quiet, dimly lit carpark. I expected Claire to be waiting, as she’s never late—her punctuality is practically a personality trait. But she wasn’t there, which got me a bit annoyed. I scanned the area and spotted her car parked about thirty metres away, tucked under a streetlight. Frustrated, I waved dramatically for her to drive over.

After what felt like ages, the car finally crawled towards us and stopped. Oddly, Claire stayed inside—no hopping out to help with the bags or to greet Ethan, which wasn’t like her at all. Grumbling, I helped Ethan load the golf bags into the boot, told him to jump in the back seat, and stormed to the passenger side, ready to give Claire a piece of my mind for being so off.