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).