Pga Southern Hills Bag Policy

So you’ve scored tickets to the PGA Championship at Southern Hills. First off, congratulations—you’re about to watch millionaires hit a tiny white ball with impressive scowls. But before you pack your fanny pack with six bags of chips and a medieval flagon of iced tea, you need to understand one thing: the bag policy. It’s not just a rule; it’s a personality test designed to separate casual fans from tactical ninjas.

Size Matters (And They Mean It)

Let’s get brutal: your bag cannot be larger than 6 inches by 6 inches by 6 inches. That’s the size of a cube of butter. Or a very small loaf of bread. If you’re thinking, “Oh, I’ll just use a slightly bigger bag and sneak it in,” congrats—you’re now the villain in a golf fan’s drama. Security will measure your bag using a metal template that looks like a sadistic Tupperware lid. If your bag doesn’t fit, you’re either checking it at the gate or donating it to the nearest trash can.

The Only Bag You’re Actually Allowed

Your one permitted companion is a clear plastic bag, like the kind you used for transporting goldfish home from a carnival. It must be completely transparent. Pro tip: if you bring a brown paper lunch sack, security will treat it like you’re smuggling a severed head. And don’t even think about a backpack—backpacks are banned faster than a bad take on chip technology. You can bring a small camera, but only if it fits in your plastic fish bag. Yes, that’s the rule.

What You Can Actually Bring (Surprisingly Fun Stuff)

Surprising fact: you are allowed to bring a blanket. Yes, a whole blanket. Just fold it tiny, because it still has to fit in your 6-inch cube of a bag. You can also bring one sealed water bottle (plastic only), but once you open it, you’re at the mercy of the $8 bottled water vendors. Also allowed: sunscreen, binoculars, and a small umbrella—but only if it’s less than three feet long. That umbrella rule is for rain, not for dueling with hecklers.

The “Medical Exception” Loophole (Use It Wisely)

If you have a genuine medical need—say, insulin, an EpiPen, or a mysterious condition requiring a gallon of Gatorade—you can bring a larger bag. But they will verify it. You cannot just claim “anxiety requiring six bags of kettle corn” and expect a pass. That’s the kind of move that gets you a stern lecture from a volunteer named Carol, who has been doing this since 1992 and has zero patience for your “snack stash.”

Pga Southern Hills Bag Policy FEA for All

What You Absolutely Cannot Bring (A Horror List)

Here’s where it gets hilarious: no signs or banners. So your “Tiger Woods is My Spirit Animal” poster? Straight to jail. Also no loud noisemakers, which means your cowbell stays in the car. Surprisingly, selfie sticks are banned—apparently, the PGA fears you’ll smack a player’s caddie in the head while filming your mouth breathing. And no drones. If you bring a drone, expect to be tackled by a man in a polo shirt named Chad.

The Wild Card: What About Fanny Packs?

Fanny packs are allowed, but only if they’re clear and under the size limit. So you can look like a 1990s tourist from a cruise ship, but at least you’ll be hydrated. Fair warning: a fanny pack that’s slightly too big will be confiscated. I saw a man argue with security for 11 minutes over a fanny pack that was 6.5 inches wide. He lost. He walked away holding three granola bars and a look of profound defeat.

The 2022 PGA Championship at Southern Hills

The Golden Rule: Pack Like You’re Going to a Midget’s Picnic

Everything must fit in your pocket or that clear plastic bag. I recommend cargo shorts—the kind with deep pockets. You can stash your phone, wallet, sunscreen, and a snack in there, and nobody will bat an eye. Just don’t try to smuggle a bag of chips in your sock. Security dogs are trained for that now. The bottom line: Southern Hills wants you to watch golf, not picnic.

One Final Surprising Fact

Believe it or not, you can bring a cowbell—wait, no, I lied. You cannot. I made that up to keep you awake. What you can bring is a small, personal chair that folds down to the size of a large sandwich. But it must fit in the clear bag. Real talk: if you show up with a camping chair strapped to your back, you’re getting turned away. So do yourself a favor: leave the tactical gear at home, embrace the plastic bag life, and prepare to cheer for hole-in-ones while clutching a six-inch cube of hope.