At the back of the bar there’s a group of five men in their thirties, most of them are wearing plaid. They are crowded around a video-game console pounding at the air and yelling things like, “BITE! Bitebitebitebitebite.” “AIRMAIL, Budddiiiie! ” I walk past them on my way to the bathroom and glance at the screen. Video Golf is just about the whitest thing the world’s got going.