Right to Bare Arms

By Al Horn

I sat down in the clubhouse of our favorite golf course. My wife and I play there all the time. On this particular day I was seated with an old friend. It was right after league play. We were discussing the sale of the course to a developer who is expected to combine this course and the one next door to create another golf community. You know the kind. Premium lot prices for the right to have strangers hit golf balls at you and your family while you sit in your back yard enjoying the weather. My friend and I were pondering the future of the league we play in because the course next door has leagues on the same night. We both realized that somebody would lose out from the situation.

"It's probably just as well this does happen," he told me.

I was intrigued by his remark. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, everybody will expect the new course to be more upscale than this one."

"This is a fairly nice course we have here."

"I know," he quickly commented. "But the expectations are different here than they are next door. They have locker rooms, a banquet center, and a cart path to the driving range. Here, things are a little more lax."

On these counts I had to agree with him. "I'm still not following you."

"A few months back, two friends of mine came in here on the weekend and were turned away."

"Why? Because the course was full? Did they have a tournament that day?"

"No. They were both wearing tank tops."

"Well, that makes sense," I said. "There is a dress code."

"Right. This was their first trip here and they didn't know. They are not regular golfers like you and me. They were just out fooling around and figured as relaxed as this place was, they didn't have to worry about it."

"They were pretty disappointed, huh?"

"Not just disappointed," my friend said. "They were down right mad. They have even talked about getting a lawyer and filing a suit against this place."

"You're kidding me!"

"No, I'm not," he replied. "They thought it was unfair that women could wear sleeveless shirts and they couldn't."

"Women are not allowed to wear tank tops here, either," I countered.

"True. But some of the sleeveless shirts I've seen kind of stretch the limit."

I had to admit he was right. To my knowledge nobody had defined the length of fabric from the shoulder to the neck to determine what counted. I wondered if this was a fashion thing or a calculated measure on women's behalf. Were they intentionally pushing the boundaries to see when others would say enough was enough? In all fairness, these guys might have a legitimate case.

My friend allowed me a few moments to ponder on the matter before breaking into my thoughts. "With this place being sold it probably won't matter," he said. "Besides, there are other things to be considered."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I personally don't care about what people wear here. Some people wear sleeveless apparel to get some sun on their arms. Others like to show off a favorite tattoo. I'm fine with that. What I don't care for is when some guy in a tank top starts waving his arms around in the air. There are a lot of guys with more hair in their armpits than they have on their heads. It's not a pretty sight."

At first, I thought my friend was being silly. The more I think about, the more I think I agree with his assessment. Oh well, so much for the second amendment.