Plywood Raccoon Castles

“I’m so sorry buddy,” I said to my son as we pulled out of traffic and into the empty parking lot. “I thought it was supposed to be open today.” A beat-up truck sat next to an open maintenance shed near the back edge of the property, but we were the only civilians in sight. Our first trip to the same course I used to play as a kid was about to end before my kid could even see how silly all mini golf putters are.

As I drove toward the front of the lot to do the traditional drive-by you do when you want to look for posted hours and frown at the building, I noticed some important differences between my bright and cheery memories and reality. The biggest one was that the earth was well on its way to reclaiming the place with jungle overgrowth. I only knew where the building was from memory; The nearest wall was fully covered by leafy ivy. The big wooden sign that said the place should be open had long scratches through the paint like dogs had tried to climb it. The place didn’t appear to be closed, it appeared to be closed.

I pulled into a space near the walkway to google for answers, but I already knew them. There’s another course I’ve never been to about 45 minutes out into the corn fields in a town mostly known around here for a big car dealership and a megachurch security guard who murdered his family. Allegedly. Topgolf runs a fancier course in midtown St. Louis, but midtown…