“Smash!” That was the sound I heard at 9:53 p.m. on the 18th green. Why was I at my home course in the pitch-black? Let me explain.

My name is Joe and I used to work at a golf course about 10 minutes from my house when I was in high school. The first couple years I worked outside as a cart boy. Basically, my job was to clean up all the trash and wash down every cart before I left each night. This meant having to wait for the very last cart to come in no matter how late it got.

There was one night I will never forget, and when I share my bizarre story I always seem to have family, friends, and co-workers on the edge of their seat. I hope you enjoy it, too, GolfWRXers. It’s based on a mostly true story.

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9:00 p.m. It was a Thursday and another muggy summer night in Georgia, now dark enough so that a golfer couldn’t see their ball after they hit it. Of course, I was the last employee working at the course, and there was still one cart out on the course. So I decided to wait for the last man to finish playing.

9:15 p.m. I had all the carts cleaned and charging in the cart barn, except the one missing cart.

9:18 p.m. I certainly didn’t want to wake up or bother my boss, so I hopped in a cart and began searching the course for the missing cart. I was assuming someone just left a dead cart on a hole.

9:47 p.m. After riding along the entire 18 holes — a long, dreadfully hilly course — I concluded that the cart wasn’t on our golf course. I decided to call my boss to explain that we were missing a $5,000 piece of equipment.

9:50 p.m. Right as I was about to hit call, a small light appeared on the 18th hole. I decide to go investigate this glimmer of hope, hoping it was the missing cart.

9:52 p.m. As I drove toward the 18th hole, I saw that a cart was heading right toward me!

9:53 p.m. “Smash!” Someone drove over the flagstick on the 18th green!

9:55 p.m. I watched him slam on the brakes and fall straight out of the cart onto the green, face first. I walked up to the green and discovered 1-inch deep tire marks on the green, about 10 feet in length. The flag stick and the hole were both destroyed. The man tried get up (but couldn’t), and began speaking to me with speech so slurred I couldn’t understand a word coming out of his mouth.

9:58 p.m. I investigated the back of the cart where his golf bag was, and I discovered about 20 crunched beer cans. I called the police and they arrive promptly to take care of one of our club’s finest members (the police station happens to be right next to the 18th hole).

10:07 p.m. The man was cuffed after he resisted arrest, and the police begin walking him to their patrol car. They asked me a few questions about what happened, and I was free to put up the last cart and head home after a long day of work.

10:15 p.m. After cleaning the miraculously undamaged cart, I hopped into my car and drove home. It’s safe to say I had an interesting conversation to share with my boss the next day.

The good news? The grass only took a few weeks to grow back, thanks to the great work of the greenskeeper. But unfortunately, this isn’t the only crazy event I’ve experienced working at your average American golf course.