It doesn’t get more southern than Augusta, Georgia, in the Spring. Everything is blooming, especially the azaleas; but we didn’t go there to take in the beauty of the blooms. We went for the Masters.

Last Christmas, our son Jesse surprised us with this opportunity. He had secured a pair of tickets to this coveted event. Jesse planned out the four-day tournament, which six of us would attend in daily shifts. Sunday was Bob’s and my day. I honestly felt like I was taking somebody’s spot as I don’t play golf and only watch when Bob’s watching and I happen to walk into the room when it sounds like somebody made an amazing shot or Bob pauses it because I just have to see this!

Nevertheless, Jesse wanted me to go with his dad, and I’m glad I did. This is tradition at its finest, and I love traditions. It was such fun to accompany Bob as he took in the course and watched his favorite golfers do their thing.

Getting into the event was an event in itself. We arrived mid-morning as the leaders wouldn’t tee off until after lunch. Since I am currently experiencing knee issues, we sought a handicap parking spot, but they were all full. I guess handicaps at the Augusta National are not a thing. So, we walked in, me with cane in hand in case my knee wanted to do its thing. Having that cane saved us about a ten-minute portion of the walk, as it was advertising that a ride would be lovely. We hopped on a waiting golf cart to shorten our walk.

This gave us a brief time to rest before we got to the course itself. It took about twenty minutes to get inside the gate, including the obligatory search of the bags to ensure we didn’t bring in any contraband. Contraband would include cell phones or cameras. They are strictly verboten. We knew that going in, so it was not an issue, but I wondered what life would be like without a phone all day long. Would it really count that we were at the Masters if we didn’t capture it on camera and post it on social media? Yes. It counts.

First order of business was to get in the switchback line to go into the golf store. This was another twenty minute wait, but I was happy to do it because you gotta have swag. It really wasn’t swag in the truest sense of the word though, because we all didn’t get some things. They sell out and nothing is free, of course. The big deal of the day was the Masters gnome. They stock the tournament gift shop with these fresh each morning, but when they’re gone, they are gone. These sell for about $50, but you can pick one up today on Ebay for upwards of $400.

Jesse was able to secure a gnome one morning, but on our day Bob and I were not willing to get up earlier than necessary to get a gnome that we’d have to carry back to the car because it’s too big to lug around the course. We were concerned that my knee would decide it was finished before Bob was finished, so I opted out of trying to get a gnome. Yes, I opted out. It was a rare moment of common sense winning the battle to get a collectible to display in our garden or sell on Ebay. Who am I kidding? I’d never sell it.

By the time we entered the gift shop, there was talk that gnomes might be found in the back corner, but alas, that was a rumor. The upside – we didn’t have to trek back to the car. And when I say we, you know I mean Bob. We did purchase can cozies (a collectible that is manageable and lightweight), ball markers, mugs, and hats. I think it is required to spend a minimum amount of money at the shop. I’m sure the Masters folks work that into their budget. They’d have to because the food is so cheap.

Everything is permanent at Augusta National. That includes the grandstands, scoreboards, concession stands, bathrooms, and phone banks. Everything. And you cannot see any of these things from the actual course. There’s nothing to distract the golfers. Plus, nobody is asking them for a selfie along their way. People are watching the tournament through their eyes not their camera lens. It is so well thought-out.

Bob and I placed our official Masters chairs along the fairway of the 13^th hole, also known as the Azalea hole. It is aptly named as I’ve never seen such a beautiful display. I plopped down for a rest while Bob explored the course. This is another brilliant thing about the Masters. They sell camp chairs emblazoned with their emblem. (We didn’t have to buy chairs, because Jesse had already done that.) When you want to get up and wander, you just leave your chair (make sure you mark it as yours) and go sit in someone else’s chair. Of course, there are grandstands, but all the holes are lined with green camp chairs, so seating is easily accessible, at least during the first half of the day. If the original owner returns, you get up and move along. At the end of the day, you take your chair home with you. The Masters encourages you to purchase a chair, set it up, and take it down, all for the low price of $35. They actually get the patrons (not fans or customers) to pay up and do the labor. That’s brilliant.

Bob returned from touring the course and we set out to get some food. The concessions and restrooms were in the same area. I should add that this was the first time I had seen lines to the men’s room triple the lines to the ladies’ room. Retribution! 

The phone banks were interesting. I think most people were using them so they could call someone and have Augusta National show up on the caller ID. I didn’t think of that, but then again, I only know two phone numbers and Bob’s is one of them.

Lunchtime was simple – egg salad and pimento cheese sandwiches with Georgia peach ice cream sandwiches for dessert. These are the must-haves if you want to immerse yourself in everything Augusta National, and they’re cheap. While I don’t really understand the appeal of a pimento cheese sandwich, I did try it and found it to be worth every penny of the $1.50 we spent. I did a little research and discovered that the pimento cheese sandwich debuted in 1947, and it cost a quarter. That is the humble beginning of this Augusta National craze. I prefer the egg salad, which is also a bargain at a buck fifty. The peach ice cream sandwich, that’s a tradition I can get behind.

This is Part 1 of 2. Part 2 will offer a look at the people we met during the tournament.