For $16, my wife and I got access to two rubber golf clubs, neon balls, and a sequence of 18 amoebic, turfed-up, basically flat holes along the side of Big Finger Boulevard. The stakes were high: loser buys lunch. I kept score with one of those miniature red pencils that always find a way to stab you in the thigh, no matter which way you put it in. (Spoiler: I won by 8 strokes and still bought lunch.)