I had occasion to make a few quick stay overs in Sacramento during the last several months. (It’s a great portal to Lake Tahoe and some other Northwest golf spots).

Of course, anyone who’s ever spent even one night in Sacramento knows there is no such thing as a quick stay here.

Not in the dozing armpit of the West Coast. One night here can seem endless.

The “hopping” downtown consists of a few blocks around the state capitol with a smattering of ordinary restaurants, a few small movie theaters and a heavily-hyped outdoor shopping center that the people of Akron, Ohio would laugh at.

This is supposed to be one of the seats of power in the country - it’s where The Terminator himself governs with witty phrases. And yet, it’s impossible to find a bite to eat after 11 p.m.

Impossible. I’m not talking a good bite either. Any bite. McDonald’s, a little taco stand, you name it … it’s not happening.

One night I drove around a little after midnight, vainly circling downtown for 20 minutes, searching for even a gas station or convenience store open for a snack. A Sacramento cop finally pulled me over (I was the only car on the road at this ghastly Sacramento Midnight hour, so automatically I must have been suspicious) and informed me that I’d have to get back on the interstate to find anything.

Even a bag of chips.

Former Sacramento King himself Chris Webber tried to convince me that there is some great golf in Turnip Town. (For more on Webber, stay tuned to BadGolfer.com for the second in the series on where celebrities party in a golf town).

I don’t doubt CWebb on this. It’s just nobody would want to endure Sacramento itself to experience this golf. If they weren’t already forced to live there. Or are not an athlete with a private jet to escape on once dusk hits.

There’s really no doubt. Sacramento is the worst “major” city in America. And it’s not even that close.

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