Went golfing in Florida the first week of November. Hit it all over the yard. Really stunk it up.

Tallying up the results in the grill room after the round, my playing partner beat me. Counted it two more times. Same result.

But wait, I thought, this is Florida. We need to examine these results again.

Hole number one was a dogleg left. The starter said so, the tee box marker had a picture of the layout, and my yardage book clearly stated, "Don't hit it right." I was thoroughly disoriented by all of this and hit it way right into the woods. Since I was confused, and furthermore, think the hole is unfair, I'm taking a par instead of the seven I actually got.

Made a nice putt on six, but it stopped right on the edge. Left it hanging. Just hanging there but not falling! I believe a hanging putt should be as good as a fully dropped putt, so I'm counting the par.

Have you ever noticed how the golf scorecard folds, butterfly-like, right between the front and back nine? Even though any third-grader can see where you are supposed to put your scores, I think my partner might have put my score next to HIS name instead of next to mine. This explains why on the original scorecard he shot 1-under instead of me. So I'm taking the 1-under for the front nine instead of a 57.

My tee shot on 13 banged off a roof and probably is in someone's garden. So I played another. Now, I know back home that's counted as out of bounds, BUT, we never said before the match that hitting a roof was out. So, I'm changing that standard because it would benefit me. Par.

I changed the rule back to out-of-bounds on 15 when my opponent yakked one out.

This is fun. I think if I keep going, I can actually get the score I need to beat my opponent.

OK, on the par three seventeenth hole I hit my tee shot into the bunker. Absolutely skulled the sand shot over the green and onto the highway, skimming a '91 Cadillac. So I dropped one into the sand and chili-dipped the blade so far into the wet beach that I didn't think I'd ever extract it. Now, clearly it wasn't my intention to hit those two awful sand shots. My INTENTION was to loft a beautiful arc softly onto the green and watch it release to within inches of the cup for a tap-in par. That was my intention, I swear. Mark the par.

As I was adjusting the scores, my partner objected loudly. The golf pro walked by and my partner asked him to tell me that what I was doing was wrong. He did. I ignored him and continued recounting. I didn't know the head pro, but I attacked his credibility anyway and accused him of siding with my opponent.

Five guys and two women sitting on a bench near the bar gave their opinion, even though I didn't ask them: "What does he know? Don't pay attention to him. We believe you should do whatever you need to in order to get the score that you want."

"What about The Rules of Golf?", the golf pro said.

"Screw the rules. We make our own rules. We say the golfer can do whatever he wants if it benefits him. We suggest a hand count on three selected holes."

"A hand count?", I asked.

"Sure," they responded, "you take three holes where you have the best chance of beating your partner, and you only count as many strokes as you have fingers on one hand."

Perfect. Those par-fives where I took two snowmen and a seven all become pars.

Upon further examination I noticed a hole where I didn't mark my score. I believe I actually got a double bogey, but I asked the guy sitting at the other table to look at the card and determine what my score really was. He examined my other scores and said that since I got a birdie on the hole before, this one must have been a birdie also. I agreed.

On another hole I couldn't make out what I wrote down for a score. I think it was a seven. Gave it to another guy in the bar to interpret. He held it up to the light, twisted it, turned it upside down and concluded it was a two. My first eagle.

You know what, though? After all this wrangling and creative scorekeeping, my opponent still had a better score than me. BUT, I noticed something. Colonel Chad Jones (retired Navy) failed to sign and date his scorecard. Everyone knows the rules say that unless you sign and date your card, it must be thrown out. I WIN!

Still, I played crummy. Couldn't have been my fault, so I'm suing Titleist, Callaway, Nike, and Ping. It's their responsibility, not mine.

Isn't Florida a great state?!