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bad day Category

Monday, August 3rd, 2009

From Bad to Worse: A tale of horror and the Florida Panthers


During the hockey season I will regularly find myself in some sticky situations and return home with stories that both shock and entertain my friends. After hearing my latest harrowing tale, people often ask, “So, what’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you on the road?” Truthfully, I don’t know. I find myself asking that same question while I’m barreling through a blizzard or some other obstacle standing in the way of safely arriving at my hockey destination. I’ve seen it all from near pimpings in Nashville to near kidnappings in Chicago. I’ve had to deal with abusive border guards, unwanted “sneak attacks,” getting snowed in at frat houses, and every possible form of weather related danger… just to name a few. While I still have no idea which misadventure was really the worst of the lot, in this entry I will share a particularly bad trip to Florida from back in the 07-08 regular season.

It was my reading week from university, and, unlike this season, I actually planned to stay home and be studious and work on my Robertson Davies essay as well as a presentation for another course. Basically, I had three novels to read in a week! There was a slight setback in my game plan, though. My aunt had rented a place in Naples for a few weeks, and while this didn’t faze me at first, I made the horrible mistake of agreeing to drive her and the family to the airport. Being in close proximity to the airport made me itchy for an adventure, and by the time I had driven back home I had my mind made up that I would be irresponsible and fly down to Florida for some puck, of course.

The trip started out without any problems. I flew into Miami and rented a car to drive to Naples. Unfortunately, the weather was crap. The only hot day was game day. There wasn’t much to do except hang around the condo. However, the condo was infested with the contagions of my 8 month old cousin’s bout of stomach flu. One by one my family members started to go down.


Come game day, I had still managed to avoid contraction, and I set out with my cousin for a two hour road trip to Sunrise, Florida. By the time we got there, it was lunch time. I started to feel strange and could barely touch the food I ordered. As the afternoon progressed, I was getting perpetually worse, and by the time the gates opened at the BankAtlantic Center, I had already thrown up four times. But I was determined to press on in the interest of my hockey addiction.

I threw up again just before the warm up started, then took my seat for the showdown between the Florida Panthers and the Boston Bruins. However, I only managed to sit through the warm up. I ended up in the doctor’s office hoping for some miracle that never came. I was pretty much given a transparent barf bag. I stumbled around the arena looking for a place to get some air and threatening to destroy the lives of any arena staff that dared to stand in my way.

Finally, I gave up. I was sprawled out on the floor of the platinum lounge longing to die. I couldn’t help but thinking that I was lucky that the Philadelphia Flyers weren’t one of the teams facing off that night. I knew that I would have found it very hard to have pulled myself away from my precious Flyers. I would have very likely thrown up all over the bench, and may or may not have spontaneously combusted right in my seat. Anyway, my cousin wasn’t overly heartbroken that we had to leave early, he’s not a hockey lover (he’s American *ahem*). Oh, and even though I was near death, I still refused to let my cousin drive – HA!

The official barf bag of the Florida Panthers. Notice how the internal bleeding around my eyes adds to my already sickly exterior!

Now, you might be thinking that this trip sounds pretty awful as it is, but trust me it gets worse. I was still feeling pretty gross when I flew out of Miami, and what’s worse is that I had an overnight layover in Baltimore. I arrived after midnight, but since I was flying back to Buffalo around 7AM, I figured I might as well stay up at the airport all night and get back to some much needed reading time. Fun.

Part way through the night one of the airport staff came over to chat with me. This guy was just gushing about how proud he is of his son. He was telling me how successful and smart and good looking he is, and how it makes him cry how proud he is of him. Not gonna lie, he was a good salesman. He showed me pictures, and let me just say, his son was one hot man! So, I was already mentally planning what my life in Baltimore would be like when I eventually bagged this guy, but then his daddy dropped the bomb. He starts telling me how beautiful and successful his son’s new wife is! Well, @#$% you, old man!!

4AM finally rolled around and check in resumed at the airport. But guess what?! My flight was cancelled, and flights to Buffalo were backed up for two days! This caused a major problem. I couldn’t be stuck in Baltimore for two days because I had tickets for the Flyers game in Buffalo on that day, and I didn’t have the tickets with me either – eek!! I was tired and I was cranky, and I needed to come up with a survival plan that didn’t leave me stranded with the masses in Baltimore! I thought about driving to Philadelphia, and fantasized about popping in for their home game against Florida, and stir up some drama by wearing my newly acquired Panthers jersey. But instead I focused on the goal of putting my Sabres tickets back in my hand in time for puck drop at HSBC Arena.

I had my flight redirected to Toronto. Unfortunately, my car was still in Buffalo. The day before game day, my friend and I had to travel by bus to B-lo – thumbs down! We grabbed a cab from my place to the bus station downtown Toronto. We were still on the DVP when we realized that we left the tickets at home, so we had to back track. We just barely made the bus that we were trying to get out of T.O.


The bus was unpleasant, but I took the opportunity to get back to my reading. Crossing the border by bus is an irritating process. Anyway, from the station in Buffalo we grabbed a cab up to the airport where I finally rescued my car from his unexpected extended stay at Buffalo Niagara. When we got to the hotel we celebrated my stomach flu recovery with a lot of $3 champagne (as pictured) and the discovery of an awesome pancake house (mine had bacon in them!!).

The next night the Flyers defeated the Sabres in an exciting (“eyebrow raising”) shoot-out spectacular which snapped some ridiculous ten or eleven game losing streak! And you’ll be happy to know that I did not puke all over the Flyers bench.

Monday, March 16th, 2009

Wherefore, Romeo: Long Island (Day 6)

The following events took place on March 7th, 2009

I drove all night. I wish I had that Celine Dion song to accompany me! I finally pulled off somewhere southbound on the I-87 because I thought I was going to drop dead from lack of sleep. I discovered that dancing to Britney and smacking yourself in the face really does perk you up, but only briefly. However, as I pulled up to a shady off-road lodging Mecca consisting of Comfort Inns and HoJos, I perked right up. I think the continuous blackness of hours on the highway at night was killing me; so the street lights must have woken me up. I decided to keep moving.

It was four in the morning and I was about a hundred miles outside of New York City. I stole the wi-fi coming out of the Comfort Inn (this is my new favourite thing to do, stealing wireless signals, I mean; makes me feel like an undercover sketchbag), and finally looked up directions on how to get to Long Island. I also took a half hour break and just screwed around on the computer. I checked my emails, and played around on youtube before heading back off into the night.

Just after 5AM I stopped to clean myself up. The night had done terrible things to my already terrible hair. There was nothing I could do, so I just threw on one of the many hats I found in the trunk of my car. It was a Leafs hat (yikes). I had a few of them floating around the trunk from when I used to work there I guess.

I had a decision to make between the two nearest hotels to Nassau Coliseum. Should I stay with the New Jersey Devils, or at the hotel housing the Phoenix Coyotes? After much deliberation, I went with my instincts which told me to stay with the Devils. I’m glad I did, as it was later revealed that the Coyotes’ hotel was allowing livestock to check in. It would have been a fairly ugly scene if I had a run in with the hideous, blonde, gum-chewing, Chlamydic mule that was lodging at that hotel. Plus, I don’t think I could have handled the smell. The mule factor caused me to cheer for the Islanders the next day.

As soon as I was in the NYC vicinity, I noticed people were starting to get a lot ruder! People at the toll booths were MEAN! As I walked up to the hotel, a guy stopped his car and said, “Now, that ass needs to get fucked!” Umm…what? My mouth seriously dropped to the floor. Sure I’ve heard guys yell things out of cars before, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything that direct before. The guy was hot too…so I didn’t understand. As I continued to the front doors, I wondered what that statement could have meant. Did it mean I looked good (somehow despite no sleep/the evil hat), or could the guy tell by the way I was walking that yes, I did, indeed, need *that?*

As I walked into the hotel, the Devils were congregating. They appeared to be in agreement with the statements made by the guy in the car moments earlier. It was making me paranoid due to the lack of sleep for many, many, many days. I just couldn’t deal with the threatening advances of male desire at that moment. I wanted to cry, and I did cry. Emotional breakdowns #3, 4, 5, 6, 7 all happened consecutively that afternoon. It was a shame because part of me wanted to go to the Devils game. I decided it was best that I shower and sleep instead. I slept all afternoon. I finally woke up around 5PM when the obnoxious Islanders fans were screaming and yelling outside my window after the game.

I decided to go out for a drive and find someplace to eat and a pharmacy to stock up on supplies I was out of – conditioner, water, and facial cleansing cloths (they are a must have road trip item!) I returned to the hotel with my supplies, but no food. I was too lazy. I ordered pizza instead.

I sat around my room that night depressed. I was wondering where my alleged Romeo was hiding, and why I wasn’t at least finding a clue as to what I should do next. I had set out on Monday for a two day excursion to Boston that, come dawn, had stretched to a week. I had never done anything so impulsive before. I had said to my friend, “I feel like I have just bet my whole life on a single hand of poker.” Was I wrong? Was I going to lose everything? Where was he?! I went to bed early, not knowing that, the next day, Nassau Coliseum would provide me with my next big sign.

Sunday, March 8th, 2009

The end is nigh: Boston II (Day 1)

The following events took place on March 2nd, 2009

Hockey related mishaps are at the top of the list of things that cause my blood to boil. Forget NASCAR! If you want to see some driving, then put me behind the wheel of a car ten minutes before warm up! This time around, my ticket for the Flyers/Bruins game got lost in the mail! Another lazy postman and/or neighbour incident. Once, my ticket didn’t show up for a game in Ottawa simply because the courier didn’t feel like delivering it. Luckily, I argued my way into the seats, but I couldn’t allow that postman to keep his job working on my street now could I? Apparently, the current postman is a piece of work, as are my neighbours (who have held onto our parcels for six months before delivering them).

Everything that could have gone wrong on my way to Boston on Monday did go wrong. Murphy’s Law. To start off the day I was fully searched at the border – twice! I was searched on misogynistic grounds that women A) can’t be sports fans, B) can’t be self-reliant, and C) can’t do things without a man. You can imagine how hard it was for me to hold my tongue and be pleasant while they attempted to find the drugs I had smuggled in the car. Apparently, I can’t have a life if I don’t have a boyfriend, that’s nice. Should I join a convent? P.S. US Border Security, nice job profiling. I’ve never even smoked a cigarette in my life! I had forgotten there were about seven or eight copies of my book in the trunk of the car. Yeah, women don’t understand/like sports, hmmm? A bunch of young border guys started coming in the room, and saying “hiiiiiiiii” with knowing, 15 year old, hard-on smiles – did you enjoy riffling through my panties?

Anyway, once I was released, I went on my way to the Buffalo-Niagara International Airport. Upon arrival, I discovered that my flight was canceled, and that there was NO WAY that I was getting out that day. Another ticket agent said there was a later flight, but nothing was guaranteed to get out. I told her to put me on the flight, but as I went through security, I met a heinous bimbo with something up her ass. Apparently, she felt there were too many liquids/gels in my zip lock bag, even though it was the EXACT SAME grimy bag I used to go to Philly the week before, and Boston two weeks before that! I took that as a sign to get the fuck out of there. If by 3PM I was still in Buffalo, and my flight didn’t get out, I’d be very limited as to how I would get to Boston.

I went downstairs to the car rental place and Budget told me they had “trip cars.” (Cars you drive one-way and leave at another airport). By 11AM (my flight was supposed to leave at 11:40AM), I was in the new car, GPS in tow, and headed out on my way to Boston. I drove through a blizzard the whole fucking way. Mother Nature was being a bitch to me in more ways than one. I wondered at times if I was going to survive. I felt like I was going into battle against an army of thousands knowing completely that I would die. I had been warned at the airport not to go near Boston; that the blizzard they were having was really awful, but I knew I had to get there, and it had to be that night! I left all my music in my car in Buffalo, so all I had was the radio. That song, Living on the Edge by Aerosmith came on three times. Apparently, they were playing it in honour of the Boston blizzard.

I finally pulled off to get gas somewhere far East on the I-90. The number the ticket agent in Buffalo gave me to cancel my flight was wrong. I was pissed. No refund. I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything except an energy drink since 7PM the night before. I was fried, but I wasn’t hungry. I just had to get where I was going, and that was the focus. I drove the whole way with a crazed look in my eye, and my back was sore from being so tense. About fifty miles outside of Boston, the lack of sleep/food/excess hormones finally set in and I hit bottom. Dido’s White Flag came on the radio, and I knew that would do it. I kept thinking to myself, “Katrina, just hold on, you’re almost there!” But it was too late. Emotional breakdown #1.

I knew it was over. If you’ve been reading my blog, you’ll know that I’ve been looking for a new team. Philly didn’t feel right anymore. After this harrowing experience, I knew that my Philly days were numbered, and that Tuesday’s game might be the last one I go to. I was upset. I didn’t know what I was doing anymore.

My cab from the Boston airport pulled up to my hotel around 6:30PM. I was supposed to be in Boston at 1PM! To make matters worse, that second flight did go out on schedule, and I would have arrived at 4PM! Some of the Flyers were congregating in the lobby for dinner when I got there. Boy, I could have bitten every single one of their heads off after the day I had. They seemed to be eaves dropping on my check in at the front desk. I’m sure they have all been wondering where I was actually from, now they knew. The hotel staff asked me if I was here on business, to which I replied “sort of!” Of course I meant “sort of” as in “research,” but how bad did that sound?!

I went up to my room to freshen up before I attempted to eat something. After going 24 hours without food, all I could stomach was half a salad and some sangria! I told the hotel staff not to let me leave the lobby until I finished reading the book that I had wanted to get out of the way that day, but couldn’t as I lost the entire day to travel. Somehow I managed to read through the drunkenness, and tiredness, and congregating Flyers and plow through the hundred pages I needed to finish in just over an hour. Not sure how I did it, but I did.

Finally, alone in my room, I started to question my future with the Flyers as my favourite team. Not even the comfort of a bubble bath could help. I feared that all the terrible situations and circumstances I encountered that day were sure signs that the end was nigh. Later that night, I cried myself to sleep because that was all I had left. (Emotional breakdown #2).

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