New York, NY Yesterday it was my sister’s ACTUAL 18th birthday, so I figured what better way to celebrate it than to attempt to step her up with a boy! I’m a nice person – HA! For a couple months now, Nick and I had been talking about setting her up with his cousin, and surprisingly they both agreed to a Dave & Buster’s excursion. It was cute and they even went off and played nice together while the grownups talked politics. Their first dance will go down in history as a random track from the Dance Dance Revolution machine LOL! This was actually my first real time in a Dave & Buster’s. I had been to one in San Diego last season after the Coyotes/Ducks game, but the game room was closed for whatever reason, and some unpleasantness ensued which we shall not discuss here.
Alas, young love wasn’t the only thing budding that night, the Arizona Prophecy decided to come out in full force. Sure, I had been noticing the odd thing since I announced the move to Korea, but it was coming at me from all angles again with Scottsdale and again with the whole love thing. Like I’ve mentioned to death, the AZ Prophecy was about the guy I was allegedly supposed to be with, but, like I also mentioned, I was open to interpretation. However, that morning, I woke up to my mom giving my sister and I birthday bracelets. Apparently, she decided to celebrate my birthday as well seeing as I will be in the Far East when my birthday finally rolls around (Stanley Cup Finals). Mine was a love bracelet, apparently, which I’m all for if it helps me trap the previously described Irish-Australian (Day 1). This bracelet, however, set the tone for the whole day, and now I’m more curious than ever to venture back into the desert.
However, and this is a big however, my friend feels that these “signs” are more like tests; temptations trying to keep me from a new path in life. I’m not really sure if that’s relevant in this situation because no matter what happens, I still plan on going off to Asia in a matter of weeks. While I did say that perhaps something massive would happen to make me stay, I only said that in the spirit that nothing is impossible. But, really, I can’t fathom anything so extreme to bring about this outcome. Truthfully, curiosity is the biggest factor pulling me to Arizona right now. In terms of the Prophecy, it seems kind of pointless for the reasons I just mention. Let’s say the guy is there, well, what can I do about that? Spend a few hours with a total stranger and decide to change my entire life? Not likely even for someone as crazy as I am.
Last season, when the Arizona Prophecy came true, the drama was already hitting catastrophic levels by the…umm…second game (Buffalo). This game was on March 6th, 2009 and the whole thing started on the 4th – that should put things in perspective in terms of how quickly everything intensified. At that point I was already making alternative theories. Maybe this “guy I’m supposed to be with” (by the way I feel all chick flicky when I talk about this, and I’m really not; I’m just the adventurous type) isn’t actually in or connected to Arizona, but perhaps I find him as the result of Phoenix turning me off of the hockey lifestyle that was keeping him away all these years. Yes, even then I was considering that my switch to the Phoenix Coyotes was going to turn sour, and drive me away to the comforting arms of *crosses fingers* an Irish-Australian. Last year, after a particularly intense game in Anaheim, another friend told me that if this was really fate then I can’t change it and I can’t ruin it no matter how hard I try. If you had told me last year that I would be moving to Asia in a matter of months, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. I probably wouldn’t have been able to comprehend a life away from the NHL let alone a new life attempting to escape from it. I guess, really, I just could not have imagined that the matters of Arizona would have gotten this bad so quickly.
Roll the credits…
Most memorable road track: Milwaukee (Admirals) 2005-06!
It was a good thing that I set my alarm for 2PM because I didn’t actually wake up by my own efforts before then! It was another freezing cold day in Chicago. You can imagine what the wind chill factor would be like in the Windy City, eh? Once again, it was far too cold to attempt a mad dash to Victoria’s Secret. Of course, there wasn’t much time for a shopping trip anyway. I was warned that I needed to get to the United Center extra early on account of the fact that it was bobblehead night.
Understatement of the century.
There is a reason they call it The Madhouse. I have NEVER, in my entire extended history of hockey misadventures, stood in such a long and slow moving line to get into an arena! Did I mention how cold it was?? Yeah. Unpleasant. I was beginning to worry that they were going to run out of bobbleheads before I was able to get my hands on one! Luckily, that was not the case, and I’m now the proud owner of a Marian Hossa bobblehead, which will likely live out the rest of its days in the trunk of my car next to the bobblehead I got at Nassau Coliseum (not even sure what player that one bears the likeness of).
People often ask me what the best NHL arena is that I’ve been to. For some reason, I automatically answer this question purely based on the quality of the facility alone. However, I know that a lot of people prefer to rank the rinks based on the atmosphere and the intensity of the crowd. The United Center in Chicago is my nineteenth active National Hockey League rink visited to date. Finally, I have officially visited ALL of the Original Six cities!! Anyway, in terms of atmosphere, the Madhouse takes the cake. The fans are so insane, it makes this Psycho feel like she finally belongs somewhere. They are hardly ever in their seats, and if they are, they are a million times louder than the fans I’ve heard anywhere else. And have you heard the national anthem??! I feel like I definitely need to make a return trip when one of the six Canadian teams are in town, just so I can hear the guy sing my country’s anthem!
What was kind of funny was that I saw more people wearing London Knights jerseys that night than I did when I saw London play in Guelph only a few days before. Naturally, I asked everyone if they were from London, but, to my dismay, they weren’t. I was surprised to discover that the guy sitting next to me, also in a Knights jersey, was actually from my motherland. He and his family were from Brantford (home of the Great One), which is pretty close to my hometown! This wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve been conveniently placed next to other Canadians at hockey arenas far away from home. I have a crazy conspiracy theory that Ticketmaster does that on purpose! Keep the Canadians close together if they managed to make it past clearance at the border. You know how they hate hockey fans (me) coming into their county. I’m on to them…oh, yes!
I was finally getting to see the Duck play again for the first time in a long time, but, unfortunately, most of my fun players were injured and out of the lineup! SAD! Like I mentioned in Day 1, my harrowing adventure the day before was making me question whether the Ducks were really the right team for me. All night I had been racking my brain trying to think of another option. I still wasn’t sure which team should be mine, but one thing became a lot clearer at this game, and that was the fact that the Ducks weren’t it! Nevertheless, I still had a lot of fun, and by that I mean I had a lot of fun with my camera. AHEM! You’re welcome, ladies!
After the Ducks were completely annihilated by the Hawks, I loitered around the arena. I thought it might be a good idea to go for a drive around Chicago and at least check the city out by car before I had to leave the next day. I ducked into the little girls’ room to freshen up before I left. A stupid strand of hair kept sticking up out of place on my forehead. I was annoyed with myself that I didn’t bother to use my straightener before I left for the game that afternoon. Then that sinking feeling of terror hit me. “Shit. Did I turn the straightener off when I decided not to use it?”
It was a race against time to get back to the hotel. I drove like a crazy person knowing that I would likely pull up to the building to find some fire trucks outside and a disapproving look on the doorman’s face. Up in my room, however, it was a false alarm. The straightening iron had been turned off after all. I decided to go back out for my drive around town. It was a Sunday, so everything was closed. Looks like it was going to be another night of hotel room service for dinner! On the plus side, while I was out on my drive, I discovered the exact location of the Victoria’s Secret. My mission was clear.
Perhaps it was the fact that I opted to go out and par-taaay with a friend of mine, who was in town all the way from Whitehorse for the holidays, instead of sleeping before I left for Chicago that caused me to be overly emotional on my drive. Or perhaps it was something more. I was in Toronto for all of eight hours the night before my departure. I’ve been spending a lot of time back home (apparently annoying my sister to no end) over the holidays. I don’t have anything going on in either city right now, so the house with the best bed and bathtub takes the W. Anyway, I went back home to Toronto to see my friend before she headed back to the Arctic again. By 4AM, I had stripped out of my dress, grabbed my suitcase and my post-bar McDonald’s, and hit the road.
Traveling westbound on the 401, every single song on the radio was choking me up. I didn’t know what was going on. I knew I wasn’t sincerely worried about dying on the trip, even though my sequel to Down the Rabbit Hole predicted that I was going to die in a bitter snowstorm in the States after a hockey player did something horrible to me. Those that know me best know that my current circumstance is not all that different from the situation described in my book five years ago. I suppose, this time around, I was more conscious of the dangers of winter travel more than usual on account of these eerie coincidences, but the sadness I was feeling was not that of fear. It was a sadness that I haven’t felt since the beginning of March last season.
On my way to Boston before the trade deadline, I had this same feeling of culmination. Something was off, and something felt over. It was just like how I felt on that horrible day in March, when everything went insanely wrong, and I accurately sensed that the Arizona Prophecy was about to blow up in my face. I felt like I wasn’t supposed to make this trip to Chicago. It felt like it was going to be a wasted trip. It felt like a mistake.
As I drove, I desperately welcomed anything to distract me from my mission, and practically begged that something would force me to turn back. I gazed longingly at the exit that I would have taken to get to my parents’ house, and imagined how nice it would be to jump into my bed, wrap the blankets around me, and never come out. But instead I pressed on, fighting back tears and radio surfing like a crazy person trying to find a song that wouldn’t upset me. Then I discovered that the heinous, Fergie, butchered Heart’s Barracuda. Is nothing scared anymore? Go away, Fergie, you filthy beast!
I finally made it to the 402. The 402 is as reliable as a video game – in the snow and ice level, that is. If you are travelling in the winter, it is a 100% GUARANTEE that you will hit severe whiteout conditions for that entire 103 km stretch of highway. And I mean ACTUAL whiteouts, not like the ones you assholes in Phoenix are thinking of when you pay $10 for a hockey ticket and get a free t-shirt! I’m sorry, that was out of line, I’m still upset from having to recall the Fergie incident. Anyway, when you get to the 402, it’s like you’ve just completed that easy level in the video game, and now must conquer the bigger challenge before getting to the “boss,” which would be the Bluewater Bridge to the US.
Oh, the whiteouts came alright. But seeing as I am a very experienced hockey roadtripper, they were no match for my skills. This time they actually seemed more severe than usual. There were massive snow piles spilling over into the traffic lanes. At one point we were at a standstill because some douche bag decided to do 20 km/h, and no one dared drive in the other lane. Luckily, Killing in the Name of came on the radio and I decided I had enough of the snail’s pace. I pulled out of the lane and blew past everyone. Did anyone follow suit? I don’t know. What was hilarious was that less than a kilometre up the highway the roads were clear.
It was on that clear patch of highway that everything suddenly started to feel like it was going to be OK. The sadness subsided. It was like I was seeing the light, or at least that I felt reassured that at some point on my journey to the windy city something would make sense. It was seven in the morning, yet the moon still hung in the blackened sky like it couldn’t have been more than a stroke past midnight. It was kind of breathtaking. However, over the bridge, day was breaking.
The soft morning light usually hurts my eyes on my sleep deprived, overnight road trips, but this time around it was a welcomed change to the once dark and menacing horizon. Despite the pleasantness of dawn, the roads remained perilous most of the way. There were times that the road conditions were so bad that you couldn’t even pull off to help someone who had taken their car into the ditch. Yet, somehow, through these blizzard-like conditions, I still managed to reach my destination in record time, and in one piece – though, Lynxie didn’t look so hot anymore (really glad I spent $8 on a car wash before I left!)
It was freezing in Chicago; so cold that I could barely stand running a block from my hotel to the restaurant for dinner. I hid away in my hotel room for the rest of the night and watched the Hawks/Blues game on TV. Oh, the things a girl can get into when she’s bored and alone in a hotel room. Loneliness is a terrible thing. While I was lying in bed, I was once again overcome by that same familiar feeling of impending doom. Just like the trip to Boston that altered my life forever; something was about to change again for better or worse.
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.
Roll the credits…
Finally! After this post I will be all caught up with my previous game entries. Last Saturday, my friend and I decided to embark upon a last minute trip to Detroit to see my potential new-boyfriend team, the Ducks, take on the Red Wings. The Ducks and I aren’t official yet. We’re just seeing each other. I’m not sure if they are the team that I can take home to meet my parents. You see, there are too many “fans” on the Ducks team. I know it’s great for my material, but I can’t help but think that they are going to turn into another obsessive headache like Phoenix became. OK, I don’t normally bring this stuff up, but I have to this time just because. During the game one of the “fans” skated over and licked his lips at me. YES…LICKED!! Really? In front of everyone? I would have loved to see my face when he did this, but something tells me I wasn’t as horrified as I normally would have been on account of winter being around the corner, so you know…
Anyway, we used to do Michigan trips in a 24 style photo album. And by “used to” I mean we did it once. Essentially, we take a picture every hour that we are on the road and let that tell the story of the trip. Of course, we weren’t gone for exactly 24 hours, so you won’t get a full day’s worth, but you’ll get the idea of what we were up to. So before I turn it over to my terrible photography skills, there are a couple strange things I want to mention about the trip.
I woke up in the morning on game day, and I felt a strange connection to the heinous beasts, the Coyotes. Did I miss them? What was happening? This connection carried on throughout the day, and some “Phoenix” signs started to reappear. The biggest sign, which may or may not have stopped my heart for a moment, was the return of that evil Scottsdale sign. You remember back during my mystical six-game road trip last season, I wandered into the restroom at Nassau Coliseum on Long Island, and an ad for immigration to Scottsdale stopped me in my tracks, and caused me to book my trip to Scottsdale/Phoenix/Glendale in April. Well, I have been to several games since then. I have even been to two games at Joe Louis Arena, and I never saw this sign again…until Saturday night. I had been in and out of that washroom several times, and I never noticed any advertisements.
For some reason, as I was walking out of the little girls’ room before the third period, I saw it in the corner of my eye. Again, I stopped in my tracks, but this time I wasn’t awestruck, I was mad. “Oh no!” I thought, “I’m not playing this game.” As much as I would have loved to stick around Phoenix for the sake of the Arizona Prophecy, that path is far too difficult now. It would literally take a miracle or something drastic or dramatic to get me back now. I think the most likely thing is that I am being universally fucked with. Seriously, it’s not funny. I can’t go back to the Coyotes, so stop trying to convince me that I should. From now on I’m going to be highly suspicious or any and all possible “signs.”
Roll the credits then enjoy my 24 style photos…
10 AMish
“Sorry I’m late! I missed the exit for your house and it may or may not have had something to do with Savage Garden being on the radio.” What was more embarrassing was that the song was Truly, Madly, Deeply.
11 AMish
Dear Rockstar Energy Drink people,
I give you far too much publicity on my site. It’s time to sponsor me!
Yours truly,
Unemployed University Grad.
(Taken after I failed at yet another attempt to teach Amanda how to pump gas.)
12 PMish
In a moment the passenger in this car will get out of his seat, turn around, and sign us his phone number with his hands. We texted him. He was from Sudbury. The interesting thing was that this wasn’t the last time this would happen on the way to Detroit.
1 PMish
Pit stop at Timmy Ho’s! This was probably the most Canadianized Tim Horton’s I’ve ever seen. Directly to the right of it was a cow farm, and directly to the left was a hockey rink.
2 PMish
Finally approaching the Ambassador Bridge in Windsor, ON. Our border guard was…interesting. She knew her girl stuff! Hahaha
3 PMish
The strange limo that interrupted our lunch at the Hockeytown Café.
4 PMish
We contemplated ditching the Red Wings and going to this concert instead, but the ticket agent was going to charge us extra to sit in the no spray zone.
5 PMish
Stealing wireless and doing some work in the car before the gates opened. I still feel so satisfied when I come across an unsecured wireless network!
6 PMish
St. Jude decided to come out of my cleve for awhile and pose in front of the ice.
7 PMish
Random Ducks/Wings shot #1
8 PMish
The view of the Ducks bench from our seats.
9 PMish
The Red Wings celebrating their 4th of 7 goals in their 7-4 victory over Anaheim.
10 PMish
Waiting in a massive line to cross back into the homeland. Damn American underage kids going to drink and gamble the weekend away! LOL
11 PMish
Amanda falls asleep again. This is actually the fake picture. She discovered I took the picture and deleted it when I wasn’t looking. This is her pretending to sleep.
12 AMish
Yesssss! I won a McDonald’s Monopoly muffin! Too bad it expires MONDAY!
1 AMish
At one point Lynxie became possessed and started flashing potential weather conditions at me on the dashboard. He’s never done that before. He kept saying, “Ice Possible!” I tried to get a picture of it, but my cam takes too long to go off…piece of trash!
2 AMish
Descending upon the Greater Toronto Area….look what came on the radio again….
The dreaded Coyotes game finally arrived Saturday. I was up early that morning so I could be ready to meet up with the KingsCast boys in Los Angeles at noon. I was late. This was the first instance that I have experienced a GPS system taking me to the wrong destination even after I specifically crunched in the address. Kind of annoying, especially when you consider that I actually vaguely knew how to get to Staples Center, but decided to use the GPS so I wouldn’t get lost. Oh, did I mention that I was driving a MINI VAN! Yeah, when I got to LAX on the Wednesday, my car wasn’t there, so I was stuck with the hockey mom mobile. At least it was black, and I did make some sweet risky moves with it. I figured everyone would assume I had kids in the car, and would back off and let me be an asshole. My most overused phrase of the trip was, “There are kids in the car, bitch, yeah, that’s right!”
I had a blast with the guys from KingsCast despite looking like ass for that episode of Overtime. It was revealed later that my Team Canada shirt was the problem. You aren’t supposed to wear red on camera because it negatively distorts your appearance! Oh well, now I know better. Anyway, those guys are hilarious! If you don’t watch the KingsCast webcast, you should. I’m always dying of laughter whenever I tune in!
After we wrapped up in LA, I headed straight to IN-N-OUT for round two, then met up with Lauren to go for a cruise down PCH (Pacific Coast Highway). There was really not enough time to go to the beach before the dreaded main event at the Honda Center that night. I got to The Pond at 6PM, but not before stopping at IN-N-OUT a third time to get a Neapolitan shake – secret menu HAZZAH! I opted to avoid the Coyotes and take in the warm up on the Ducks end. My seats were behind the Ducks bench, but Honda Center is one of those rare arenas that don’t have gaps between the benches, so I was practically behind the Coyotes bench as well.
That game was something special. The source of my TV material was out in full force with his obsessive behaviour. I really hope the appropriate people were watching this game of his, because I know that people all the way up in the 400s were greatly entertained by it for the entirety of the game. Trying to fit those last longing gazes in, eh? Or maybe he misinterpreted my death stare as unbridled desire – FAIL! Do all guys act without thinking? I’d really love to know. I had some great lines, too. “Put your eyes on me again, and I will come after you in the night, and not in the way that you’d like me to!” Anyway, I really enjoyed cheering the Ducks on during this game. Kind of funny how the most entertaining Coyotes game I’ve ever seen was a game that I was cheering against them!
I like the Ducks. There are many “sources of material” on that team. Not to mention that a few of my old crushes are on that team now. Steve Eminger was one of my Kitchener Rangers crushes back in high school, and Sheldon Brookbank was a Milwaukee Admirals crush. It’s funny how my taste in men has changed with age! Mind you, as I mentioned in Day 3, I do appreciate the golden tans that all the Ducks seem to have. Typically, I don’t like tans on men in general, but the Ducks have “the perfect tan” if you will. Not like the smelly Coyotes with their sunburns and leathery faces. At most games I want to fling a bottle of aloe vera based moisturizer at them. Can someone please get them some sunscreen! Actually, don’t. Let them all get skin cancer (and die?). Well, not ALL of them, and especially not you, Taylor Pyatt! I want to see SPF-75 on you at all times.
Anyway, enough Coyotes ranting. I made sure I was wearing my BMF belt so everyone knew I meant business at that game. Seriously, you don’t mess with this belt! It’s studded! I was sitting next to Chris for the game; she’s a great hockey buddy! I love the fans in the southern markets. Maybe there isn’t A LOT of them, but they remind me of junior/amateur fans. They really get behind their players in semi-parental roles. I love it! There is a lot of name screaming going on!
The Ducks won 4-3 – a satisfying victory for me. After the game, Lauren and I went out for some intense mac ‘n’ cheese! There was chicken and bacon in it, and you know how I feel about bacon and cheese! Later that night, I retired back to my quarters to pack up my stuff. I was heading back to LAX at 4AM to catch my flight back to the motherland. This time around, I cannot express how happy I was for this trip to finally be over. I felt so relieved to be back, that, if the Toronto streets weren’t so dirty and urine soaked, I may have actually knelt down and kissed them.
Roll the credits…
I met a guy at the Denver airport who claimed that Denver was ranked the #1 most stressed out city in America. Maybe it was the altitude, but I was definitely feeling stressed the whole time I was there. I wasn’t in a conscious state of being stressed out, and by that I mean there was nothing to really trigger the stress in the first place. I always felt like I was running late for everything. I was more sluggish than usual, and found myself having to haul ass to get to my various destinations on time. From the moment I got to Colorado, I couldn’t wait to board my next flight and finally get settled in Orange County.
Of course, a large part of the reason I was eagerly anticipating my Anaheim leg of the road trip was because my friend, George, hooked me up with a free pass to Disneyland and California Adventure. For the first time in a long time, I was excited about something that wasn’t hockey related. I had never been to Disneyland! Growing up in the East, I was a DisneyWorld kid! Not to mention the fact that I haven’t been to Disney since 1999, which means I haven’t seen all the cool stuff they’ve changed in some of the classic rides. They updated the Pirates of the Caribbean ride to include the movie characters, and they completely gut the Haunted Mansion in the fall and transform it into The Nightmare Before Christmas – eeeeee! Oh, the things you miss when you “grow up.”
Anyway, my off day started with my first trip to IN-N-OUT Burger. I actually was not in the mood to stray into the realm of the secret menu on this outing, so I stuck to my usual two burgers and a chocolate shake. YUM! I was supposed to be going to Disneyland with Lauren, but she didn’t get off work until 5PM, so after I was signed into the park around 12PM, I decided to wander around for a bit before heading back to my hotel. I was mildly concerned that I would come across as some sort of pedophile or child abductor if I was hanging around Disneyland all by lonesome, but apparently, “people do it all the time.”
I finally talked myself into going on a ride by myself. I go to hockey games by myself all the time, but something just seems weird about going to an amusement park alone. Anyway, I figured the Haunted Mansion was a good ride to choose because the cars are pretty private to begin with. At the top of the line, I met another lonely rider. Was it destiny? It was her birthday, so she came to the park to take advantage of the free admission. She was a local, so she knew all the ins and outs of the park, and taught me how to use to Fast Pass thingie.
We hung out at California Adventure mostly. I nearly died of laughter on the Tower of Terror. At the first drop, my instinct was to grab onto the random guy sitting next to me, which then caused my purse to go flying five feet in the air. Sorry, to the guy I kept grabbing at in the dark. I couldn’t help it! There was no lap bar! Another awesome feature about the California Adventure park was that they actually served alcohol. I didn’t really think too much of this until my path crossed with a margarita stand. Birthday margs all around!
After a brief pit stop back at my hotel (I figured I was going to need a sweater since the park is open until midnight), Lauren and I were back in the gates around 6 PM. I was really excited about ingesting large amounts of amusement park food, and the feeding frenzy began at a corn dog stand. I was very conscious of having to say, “corn dog,” but in a hazy bliss of corn doggie delight, I let my guard down and the P word slipped out of my mouth. Everyone around me was suddenly quite alarmed by my use of this Canadianism. Yes, all you Yanks out there, in Canada we call them, “Pogos!” I know, it’s an ugly word.
Anyway, it was a great night at the park. I don’t think we stood in line for anything longer than twenty minutes. I also put my newfound knowledge of the Fast Pass thing to good use. Disneyland made me feel like a kid again, but even as I was literally twirling around in the line for Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, I couldn’t help but stress about the Ducks game the next day. The Coyotes were in town, and ever since that game at the Pepsi Center, I was dreading it. The clock was winding down, and the eve of the game was finally upon me. Of course, the details of that game shall be revealed in my Day 5 post.
Is Adoni a word? My spellchecker and my brain say it isn’t. I was trying to invent a plural form for Adonis, you know, the Greek guy. The point is the Anaheim Ducks have this delightful glow about them, and they reminded me of a group of Bronze Adoniseseseseses. I have been referring to them as such since my first game back at the Honda Center this season. But let’s not talk about the game. There are far more interesting things to discuss like the death of the Coyotes, and what is to become of me, my love, and the Arizona Prophecy.
I have to admit that I was beside myself over ditching the Coyotes if not for any other reason but the Arizona Prophecy. I had obviously invested a great deal in this gamble of faith. I dropped everything and went chasing a speedy white rabbit down various bunny holes across the league. If I was so sure about the prophecy enough to put my life on hold the way that I did last March, and nearly screwed myself over in most facets of my life in the process, then how could I just turn away now? It was kind of like that really bad movie that you just can’t walk out on because a small part of you is hoping that there will be a surprise twist at the end, and the film will somehow be worth that $9.95 you paid for the ticket. However, then the screen goes black and you’re left with nothing more than a hole in your pocket where your ten bucks and your dignity used to be.
When I decided to believe the school of psychics and my own intuition and go off on a quest in search of this mystery man, I had to leave the realm of the logical, the plausible, and the realistic behind. I’ve been living in a kind of fantasy world where meaning was drawn from every seemingly mundane dream or happening. While some things seemed clearer than others, I really started to go crazy (particularly this season) with having to sift between the “Divine” and the unimportant. I always tried to keep an open mind. If the prophecy was right, then it may manifest in some strange unforeseeable way. Perhaps the point of all this was not to find my “true love” after all. Perhaps it had to do with this website, the TV show, a job – who knows?
I know this can be both hard to read and believe, especially for those who do not have experience with this type of thing, but I always thought it was an interesting story, especially when you consider that as a hockey addict, my supposed “destiny” would be linked to the game I love. Of course, you skeptics may be right, and maybe this is leading me to nothing more than a very stressful adventure, but I guess we’ll see one way or another. Anyway, that’s why I opted to write about it in the first place because it IS connected to my hockey adventures, at least, right now.
There were various reasons for why I started to grow apart from Phoenix, and so, I decided to try and find a new team, and I came up with the Show Me A Sign campaign in hopes that fans across the league could show me where to go next. Within a couple days, there were whispers coming from Southern California that the Ducks fans wanted to get in on the campaign with a sign of their own. When I heard this everything clicked, and I remembered part of the prophecy that I had forgotten months ago. For over a year, psychic after psychic was telling me about the Arizona boy, but then, just a matter of days before the trade deadline, something change. Now there were two guys, and I had the choice between the two of them. On the one hand, there was the Arizona guy, but on the other hand was a guy linked to SoCal. I had never been to Arizona OR California, so this was strange to me. Anyway, when the switch to Phoenix finally happened, I decided to make a very last minute trip to Anaheim (I booked the flight like twelve hours before takeoff) just in case there was another guy there.
I had determined that the other team was Anaheim because the psychics had mentioned birds and I interpreted that as “ducks,” but, at this point, I’m more than willing to give the Kings a shot as well. Anyway, on that trip last season, strange things kept happening. My flight on Expedia wouldn’t book. Not even the travel agents could get it to work. The problem was being reported as my flight out of Buffalo, so we kept changing the departure (eight or nine times), hoping one of them would book, but to no avail. Finally, the travel agent gave up and told me that I could keep trying on my own, but she was doubtful that it would work. I decided to give it one last try, and of course it didn’t work, but this time something popped up on the screen. “Are your dates flexible? Fly back a day later.” I didn’t think this would matter considering that it was my departure that was the problem, but I decided to give it one last shot, and, of course, it booked. At the time I remember thinking that this was very meaningful. It was almost like I was meant to stay in Cali longer than I wanted to. Normally, on my hockey adventures, I want to get the fuck out of town as soon as the game is over, but in Cali I really enjoyed just hanging out. While my plane was hovering over LAX, this time around, I looked out the window, and I felt like I had finally returned home. Weird.
My flight wasn’t the only strange thing that wouldn’t book last season. I had problems with my hotel and game tickets too. The tickets in my usual sections would vanish before I could buy them. Once again, agents on Ticketmaster, StubHub, and TicketExchange could do nothing to help me. Finally, I was forced to settle for tickets in a crappy section. The weird thing was the SECOND I purchased the tickets, the ones I had previously scouted MAGICALLY reappeared. Again, was I meant to sit in those seats? As a result of me sitting there, the Coyotes ended up driving their first of many very large nails into their coffin of my hate. It was by far the worst game of my life, and I was forced to cope with it by making a horrible life choice after the game…four times…accidentally.
I was feeling the Ducks/Coyotes stress even last season. I was so confused; I didn’t know what to do with myself. While going through my mail one day, I came across a bumpy letter from some food company. When I opened it there were two Stanley Cup pins inside. I was kind of horrified. I couldn’t help but feel a little paranoid that some company I had never heard of knew the way to my heart. I casually brought this up to one of the psychics I know, and she revealed that she had the pins sent because there was a voucher for it in her box of popcorn, and it made her think of me. She told me she thought I would get some “sign” when the pins showed up, and immediately asked me if Phoenix was the one that I got. “Umm NO Phoenix has never made it passed the first round in the playoffs. They’ve never won a cup!” was my response. The teams I did get – Colorado and Anaheim.
Like I mentioned in Day 2, my trip to Avs country was planned in August. My original plan was to head to Phoenix after the game, but the fear of contracting the SWINE FLU was too great, so I decided to trash that idea like the trash that resides there. When I heard about the Ducks fans and their awesome game sign, I thought it would be in my best interest to return to Honda Center since I was already going to be in that “general” vicinity for the Coyotes game at Pepsi Center. The fact that the total additional cost for travel was only $5 sealed the deal. Of course, when I looked at the Ducks schedule, who should be playing in town but the Preds and the Coyotes! The Preds are another semi-ex boyfriend team, and I’m not going to lie, I did cast the odd glare down the ice from time to time. Luckily, I stayed safely nestled and well hidden next to the Ducks bench.
Of course, seeing that Phoenix was one of the teams in town during my visit to Cali, I figured that may be a sign that I wasn’t actually supposed to switch teams. However, the game in Colorado quickly soured any remaining feelings I had for the team. It would take a lot for the Coyotes to get me back, and the graveling would probably have to begin with a written apology addressed to my appropriate station as Ice Goddess. Anyway, I will have more to say about this; particularly, when I talk about the Ducks game in Detroit. I know, I know! I’m so behind on the road blogs right now. It feels like there aren’t enough hours in the day for all the crap I need to do. As it is I haven’t slept more than three hours in the last three days! And on that note *yawn,* I’m going to hit the sheets.
Down the Rabbit Hole: A Guide to Puck Bunnies (2004)
Content currently unavailable as the book is back on the market.
New Book
Hey, hockey fans! I am writing a new book and looking for American and Canadian hockey fans to send me a quick email telling me why they go crazy for hockey. Email me! I look forward to hearing from you!
NHL Rinks Visited
[44] Air Canada Centre
[08] Wachovia Center
[06] HSBC Arena
[05] Scotiabank Place
[04] Joe Louis Arena
[03] TD Banknorth Garden
[03] Honda Center
[02] Pepsi Center
[02] Mellon Arena
[02] Bell Centre
[01] Verizon Center
[01] United Center
[01] Staples Center
[01] Sommet Center
[01] Scottrade Center
[01] Prudential Center
[01] Nationwide Arena
[01] Nassau Coliseum
[01] Madison Square Garden
[01] Jobing.com Arena
[01] HP Pavilion
[01] BankAtlantic Center
[01] American Airlines Center
[01] Maple Leaf Gardens*
*Indicates Inactive Facility
Other Rinks Visited
[60] Ricoh Coliseum
[41] St. Michael's Arena
[26] Kitchener Auditorium
[08] Van Andel Arena
[08] Sleeman Centre
[07] Copps Coliseum
[05] Bradley Center
[04] Quicken Loans Arena
[03] John Labatt Centre
[02] Scope Arena
[02] Arena Zurich-Kloten
[01] Urbandale Centre
[01] UofT Varsity Arena
[01] London Ice House
[01] Jack Gatecliff Arena
[01] Hershey Centre
[01] Cincinnati Gardens
[01] Barrie Molson Centre
[01] AT&T Center
[01] Allstate Arena
New York, NY Yesterday it was my sister’s ACTUAL 18th birthday, so I figured what better way to celebrate it than to attempt to step her up with a boy! I’m a nice person – HA! For a couple months now, Nick and I had been talking about setting her up with his cousin, and surprisingly they both agreed to a Dave & Buster’s excursion. It was cute and they even went off and played nice together while the grownups talked politics. Their first dance will go down in history as a random track from the Dance Dance Revolution machine LOL! This was actually my first real time in a Dave & Buster’s. I had been to one in San Diego last season after the Coyotes/Ducks game, but the game room was closed for whatever reason, and some unpleasantness ensued which we shall not discuss here.
