The other week, I managed to catch Twisters, the unlikely sequel to the 1996 classic in which some ratchety storm chasers pursue increasingly deadly tornadoes across Oklahoma. While no sequel could compete with the original’s groundbreaking special effects and ludicrously stacked ensemble cast (Bill Paxton! Helen Hunt! Cary Elwes! Philip Seymour Hoffman! Lois Smith! Alan Ruck! Fucking Todd Field!) the filmmakers behind Twisters didn’t seem to understand the assignment. The majesty and terror of the tornadoes felt muted—marginalized by character stories that also felt half-baked and underwhelming. It was as if the filmmakers found the idea of making a big, dumb disaster blockbuster beneath them, and the end result is conspicuously lacking in joy. Altogether, the movie was a bleak reminder that blockbuster sequels should only be attempted if they can rekindle the joy of the original movie. Otherwise, why bother?
So, to compensate for the failures of Twisters, I want to take this week to release a long-brewing sequel to one of the most widely read stories in Mind The Moss history; a story that brought me a ton of joy during the process of writing and publishing it.
Back in the winter of 2022, I wrote about how golf courses can be opportune territory for unlikely hiking—and how daring to trespass on a golf course for a hike can be kind of a vague political statement about open space and land access. As much as I liked seeing the piece find a large audience (my friend and fellow student newspaper alum Eddie Kim wrote a good story about the story for MEL Magazine), I couldn’t help but wonder, “What if you could enjoy a hike across a golf course without the exposure of trespassing?” And then it hit me, like a 27-inch putter thrown by an angry 6 year-old who failed to execute a hole-in-one. There is, in fact, another genre of golf course that can deliver a recreational experience with surprising similarities to going for a hike.
It’s just a little…smaller.