New York, NY Three months ago I came back from Korea enraged, broken hearted, cancerous, and slightly gingered. This combination of factors led to what I can only assume to be a quarter life crisis of sorts. I wasn’t the same when I got back to Canada. My aunt commented that she thought I was spending too much time with her, as I was starting to act like a 40 year old woman. It was true. I started asking serious questions about Botox, despite the fact that my phone plan is cheap due to the sales clerk’s assumption that I was under 18. I started regularly going to We Serve gas stations, as I no longer felt the need to brave the cold and pump my own gas – how wimpy! And, lastly, and maybe the most telling symptom of all was that I was couging it up all over the OHL. It should have been obvious to everyone that the Carmen Sandiego of the National Hockey League was having serious issues, as she was no longer attending NHL games. Plus I pledged my allegiance to the Maple Leafs in early February! Guess a 10 minute drive to the rink was all I was up for. The low point for me was definitely when I caught myself thinking, “You’re 25 years old! Are you really sneaking into a billets house at 2AM right now!?” OK, relax, to be fair he’s 21… but he wasn’t the first time – eep!!!

I would have been content to stick to my little local Ontario hockey/cougar lifestyle, if my momma hadn’t become concerned with my well being. On Saturday, my parents came to Toronto for a family birthday. My mother walked in on me literally lying on the top of my bed and staring at the wall. She seemed worried, and kept coming back to my bedroom to ask me if I was depressed, only to receive some type of moan or grunt in response. The following day I decided to go home for a couple days, and my mother, or Pig as I call her, began planting the seed that I needed to hit the road. “You need a road trip, don’t you? I can smell it all over you,” she oinked. But me being the boring 40 year old (in spirit) Psycho simply responded with the fact that I was “interested” in “maybe” going to Detroit for the Leafs game in a few weeks. I know! So exciting, right?

“YES! You should go. Go to that game. Go look for tickets right now!” the Pig squealed in delight. But, alas, the Toronto Effect had driven the price way up, and the seats way back, and you know how I hate that, so Detroit was out of the question. However the aging swine didn’t give up that easily, “Well where haven’t you been yet? Oh, uh, I think you should go to Carolina. This week. Go look at tickets. Right now.” This was a very huge deal indeed. The maternal unit doesn’t normally condone my exploits in the U, S, and A or at hockey arenas of any kind, so like a good little piglet, I did exactly what she told me to. Sadly, the Leafs weren’t playing on the weekend, and the price was double what it was for better seats for the Saturday game. However, I really, really, REALLY didn’t want to see the team that was in town the following weekend (no offence), so it took a lot of internal (and external) debate to finally accept that the price, and other factors couldn’t be justified for the Leafs weekday game. And so it was written, and despite self made promises, I would be seeing a Columbus game this season, after all. Not awkward at all… But, hey, at least I get to see Grant Clitsome play live. You better believe I will be making up ridiculous nicknames for him all weekend long!

It rained all the way to New Jersey, like torrential rain. I probably could have died, but I was definitely in the zone. I had stocked up on Slim Jims and energy drinks as soon as I crossed the border at 1000 Islands. Take that, all other US Bridges that hate me! I had no problems at all this time around. “Going to visit my sorority sister,” worked like a charm. Americans eat that shit up! It still amazes me, though, that I have to lie about going to see a hockey game because the Yankees see it as suspicious criminal behaviour! Maybe when they finally embrace the sport, they will finally embrace fans like me! I feel just like Batman at the end of The Dark Knight!

The main highlight of the trip was when I finally stopped for gas, and the gas station attendant approached the vehicle. “Ooohhhhh are you gonna do it for me?” I cooed as you know I’m all about not pumping my own gas now. “Yeeeeeeeeeeeesss!” he replied mocking me in a ditzy blonde voice. Oh, P.S. I’m blonde now, and kind of ditzy. Look out for that! Another highlight was definitely a slice of Juniors cherry cheesecake. Somehow Michelle just intuitively knew that I’ve been having a major craving for cherry cheesecake for the last few weeks.

Anyway super fans, stalkers, and jailbaitish hockey players that may be reading this, I’ll try my best to do a timely game log this weekend – just like back in the good old days. We are off to Carolina in the morning. Stay tuned for details, and let’s hope the hockey gods don’t try to keep me from RBC Center – my, soon to be, 25th NHL arena! See you in Raleigh, children!

Yesterday was another “great” museum day at MoMA. I opted to make my own fun by following around pretentious people and talk through my teeth while standing behind them, “MMM yessss this piece is JUUUUST brilliant!” I was also inspired to create a series of work involving pigs entitled, Mother. The Tim Burton exhibit was really great, mind you. Of course, it was super packed and I would have loved to crosscheck about a thousand people! By the way, what’s up with this painting? I didn’t get close enough to see who painted it, but it’s hanging in the lobby. Yes, I do have the sense of humour of a sixteen year old boy.

When my mom first propositioned this trip to Manhattan for my sister’s birthday, I figured I’d be able to get at least one NHL game in. I can’t believe my terrible luck that not ONE of the three New York area teams (Rangers, Islanders, Devils) were playing at home this weekend. It has been a very long weekend, and I hate everyone. At least I had a Philly Cheeseteak from Katz Deli (When Harry Met Sally) for dinner!

Anyway, I’m off to the airport in three hours and bound for Buffalo! Later tonight Lynxie and I are hitting the road and bound for this nation’s capital, which is also the heartland of the Psycho Lady Hockey haters club! Naturally, I couldn’t leave the continent without first paying them a visit *grins.*Can’t wait!

Roll the credits…

Most memorable road track: Philadelphia (Flyers) 2007-08!

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!

When I was finally able to escape from the museum, I was headed to the NHL store to meet up with Michelle for pre-dinner drinks! Sadly, the Hartford Whalers sweatshirt I was dying to buy looked shitty on me! I was terribly sad. The sweater was cut like a box, and frankly I don’t want to look like a man when I wear…anything. It’s too bad, I was envisioning myself running around Korea with it on – those dreams are all gone now.

Michelle and I met up with Nick for Moroccan after the strongest Mudslide I’ve ever had – pure rum! The food was amazing, but I forget the name of the place due to the aforementioned rum and tiredness. From nine to midnight there was a belly dancer performing, and I got to make my first two forays into the belly dancing world for all restaurant patrons to see, and all the people that saw Michelle’s twitpics, too! Now I have a new belly dancing skirt that jingles when I shimmy down the street (did you know that I shimmy when I do anything?), as all the people walking down 43rd that night found out. Pretty sure I looked like one of those crazy people with my lime green skirt and pink mittens! The skirt is my new favourite thing!

Post belly dancing and spicy Moroccan food, we all decided to check out another hockey bar. You remember my Warren 77 excursion two weeks ago. Anyway, we decided to check out The Flying Puck after Nick and Michelle refused to take me to the rippers. By the way, is “rippers” a Canadian term because neither of them seemed to know what I was talking about? If it IS Canadian, then I should probably explain that by “rippers” I meant “strippers.” Naturally, this hockey bar had NO hockey games on. Though, they were showing the Suns/Knicks game. Speaking of Phoenix, I’m still trying to decide if I should squeeze in that Coyotes game on this road trip. It would be really tight getting back to Toronto on time for my appointments, but I could probably make it. If I thought last season’s trip to the desert was a hit and run, this would bring a whole new meaning to the phrase.

Roll the credits…

Most memorable road track: Nashville (Predators) 2006-07!

You’ve heard me bellyache over and over about the hardship of being a single, female, Canadian hockey fan trying to gain access to the land of twenty-four current NHL teams. Women are not real hockey fans, you see, so any hockey related excursions in the US are likely to be malicious drug runs. Thankfully, the US government wasn’t a thorn in my side on this trip to New York. In fact, the border guard I had was sharing stories about the families of NHL players that have passed by his booth, while I furiously tossed names at him trying to guess who they were. This time, however, I was lucky enough to find out what the Canadian government deems suspicious activity, as I was searched for the first time trying to reenter MY own country.

First of all, I knew how suspicious it would look flying to New York City for all of seven hours instead of spending the night. I just didn’t FEEL like spending the night. I’m going to be back there on the 26th anyway! Second of all, the Canadian side of the Queenstown-Lewiston Bridge had all of ONE guard on duty…and it was a chick. You know how I feel about female border guards especially ones with weight control issues and glasses. If you are so insecure about being taken seriously in life and in your job, then get another job/life. But, anyway, it wasn’t just me she was being a snarling, angry, virginal beast to; she was sending every car over for inspection. Everyone was a suspect and all of us were Canadian! Not sure why the Canadians always put the aggressive females on the night shift. Remember the, “WHY ARE YOUR EYES SO GLASSY!” chick last season when I was coming back from Boston? Actually, I do know why, no one else wants to work with them so they get the graveyard shift.

So, why did I opt to go to New York City for all of seven hours? The JetBlue $10 Birthday Sale, of course! On Monday, for one day only, JetBlue was selling select flights in and out of JFK for only $10!! If I was really crazy I would have flown into JFK for $10 then continued on to Florida for another $10, but I wasn’t in the mood for that surprisingly. The $10 flights were only good for travel on March 9th and 10th, so it was a spur of the moment decision. On the plane headed to JFK, the pilot got on the intercom and formerly congratulated everyone who was able to secure a seat at $10. You could tell, however, by the scattered uproar of cheers, that there were several who were not so lucky.

By the time I made it into Manhattan, I only had about an hour and a half to spend roaming around before my dinner reservations at Havana NY. I spent this time divided between the best cheesecake I’ve ever eaten from Magnolia Bakery, a quick jaunt through Central Park, and perusals of both the NHL and NBA stores. Bambi was the one who wanted to go into the NBA store. She had imagined that they would sell a “skanky jersey dress,” and she definitely wanted one of those. As it turns out, said dress only existed in the scandalous recesses of her mind. I actually think she might be switching sports on us. She’s developing an unhealthy preoccupation with Chris Bosh!

Dinner was great! Definitely the best Cuban food I’ve ever had; not like the “Americanized” crap they try to feed you at the all inclusive buffets at the resorts in Cuba! By the way, the last time I was in Cuba, Gretzky was staying at the resort next to mine, and was out playing road hockey from time to time. Anyway, I even had a passion fruit mojito. I’m not a big mojito fan usually, but Michelle insisted they had the best ones around. She was right! I should also say that I was honoured to have been the one to facilitate the meeting between Nick and Michelle for the first time – now my two NYC partners in crime have met at last. Oh, the trouble that will likely ensue!

During dinner, I was still “pouty” because I wanted to go to Warren 77 and the clock was ticking before I needed to get back on a plane! We decided to get the bill and cab it over to Sean Avery’s bar and squeeze in a drink before I needed to leave. We had more shit disturbing-esque reasons for going, but no drama found us there that night – SAD!

Warren 77 is…interesting. Physically it is probably the tiniest bar I have ever seen, and I’m not even sure what to make of the décor. Avery went for the vintage look, which can be cool, if you know how to do it right. I always marvel when I see people walking down the street in wacky thrift clothes that were put together so well that they successfully achieved the iconic look that is so hot right now. It’s hard to do; I definitely can’t pull it off. You can’t just throw a bunch of crap together and hope it works – there’s an art to it. Warren 77 looked kind of like a bunch of crap was dumped inside the place. At one point I wasn’t sure if this look was intended or if they just never bothered to renovate the place. Given how polished and extravagant Sean Avery’s off ice (physical) image is, I guess one wouldn’t expect to find this in his bar.

Warren 77, which I should note, has a very amusing name to me. I was disappointed to learn that Warren 77 is simply the address, as “warren” is the correct term to use when describing a cluster of bunnies (or their puck biting equivalent). Unfortunately, not even seventy-seven puck bunnies could fit down that hole, but that’s not to say that puck bunnies and jock sniffers alike do not flock to it. Warren 77 had the bitchiest wait staff on hand that night. Imagine the most aggressive puck bunny or angry hockey girlfriend you’ve ever seen and put her in a Sean Avery t-shirt. These girls didn’t care about anything other than touch flirting with any guy that walked in wearing a suit. Wonder if Sean hand selected these women himself. As for the patrons of the bar, you got the sense that there were a lot of the player wannabe types in there. These were guys that actually managed to look the part of a hockey player, and likely try to convince unsuspecting females of their hockey occupation while doing the Saturday night bar circuit. If you thought hockey players were bad, wait until you see the front office equivalent. From what I’ve seen, the guys that are generally attracted to a career in sports are the guys who couldn’t handle not making it to the pros or not being athletic, and want all the dirty perks that come with the territory of a career playing for the NHL. These are guys that try to have as many hoes in different area codes as the players do, then end up feeling insecure when the puck bunnies use them to get to the REAL players. Guys who end up single until they are forty, and then decide that they would be willing to settle down with a twenty-two year old simply because the hunt became too difficult. Trust me there is nothing worse than the hockey player wannabe, and that was the vibe I was getting from most of the guys there that night. No thanks.

Sadly, my night ended at Warren 77. I will have to give the place another go when I have more time. The food is apparently really good! Luckily, I had my boarding pass with me already because I had all of seven minutes to spare before getting on the plane. I love airports at night. No one is there to get in your way and make you want to crosscheck the Hell out of them. The plane was pretty empty too, but I was fortunate enough to have the obnoxious unpolished nineteen year old sitting across the aisle from me. How about not taking your shoes off after walking around in leather and no socks all day? I hope she gets a fungus.

On my way out the door that morning, I ransacked my bookshelf looking for something to read on the plane. I came across Bridget Jones’s Diary, a book I received for Christmas the same year the movie came out, and I never bothered to read. I figured it was a nice, light thing to read on a plane, plus, even I like the movie, and I am so anti chick flicks it’s not even funny. During my two fifty minute flights, I managed to plow through more than half of the book. The book reminded me of what I once held as my ideal life. Long before the Arizona Prophecy, and the discovery that my life would be empty without constant adventure, I, too, had that nice notion that being a business woman was the way to go.

Walking down the streets of Manhattan, I was startled by all the good looking young business types with their suits accentuating their “I go jogging before work” physiques. I wasn’t simply startled because there were so many good looking guys (though, living in dog park Toronto that was also a factor), I was startled because they were staring at me! I tried not to look like an idiot looking around to see if there was anyone else around me that they could have been looking at. Of course, then I remembered my last trip to New York for the Coyotes game, and how I was getting marriage proposals on every street corner. It makes me wonder.

Could more than one life path make someone truly happy? Will my adventures end up catching up to me, and causing my star to burn out faster than most? On a shallow and superficial level, it was not hard to picture myself with pretty much any one of those man-things giving me the eyes on 6th Avenue. Though, I should admit that the warm weather was likely a factor – I tend to think a lot more men are good looking in the springtime! Hmm, biology? Anyway, it was easy to see that more conventional life; the career at a successful ad agency, the wine fridge in the condo, and the mundane, “How was work?” dinner conversation. I used to see posters of cartoon yuppies in their black outfits, and sixties inspired hair, and I often wondered if that was what my life was supposed to be like.

As I was leaving my aunt’s house on Monday night, my five year old cousin said in an almost whining tone, “Mommy, Katrina always goes to so many places!” My aunt replied with, “Yes, she has a very fabulous life.” My life, fabulous? Who knew?

Roll the credits…

(Bet you thought I was going with Jay-Z’s Empire State of Mind! No, I think you’ve heard that song enough!)