I was all set to write about that grand sport that all Alaskans try at least once before giving up and moving to Arizona. The experience that cannot be accurately simulated, imagined, or described. And just one of the many sporting activities in which three year-olds regularly out-perform the Last Frontier Gardener. Naturally, I’m referring to ice hockey. But first I want to see how long I can ramble before I get to the point. This may be a new record.
The LFG hubby and I celebrated a double digit anniversary in high style: an early walk-about at my favorite art galleries downtown, a dinner at trusty go-to restaurant Club Paris (a great little dive, and a great filet mignon), and attendance at the University of Alaska Anchorage men’s hockey game.
I feel I also must mention that we capped the whole thing off with a trip to Home Depot. It’s just not a truly romantic and meaningful date without that compulsory last minute trip to pick up odds and ends for the house. (For the record, we bought a box of rivets, three magnetic register covers, and torx screw bits. I have no idea what those last bits are.)
Now, you may be smirking at our little pit stop, but I haven’t even shared the part where we went through the McDonald’s drive-thru for dessert. Oh yes, it gets better and better. Our low brow natures (well, his at least) got the best of us. He got a vanilla ice cream cone and I got the Oreo McFlurry. McYummy! (I think all those items at the galleries that I pointed out would be a great investment/make the room look smashing/I can’t live without/etc. made him feel like he needed to be thrifty for the remainder of the evening.)
The best part of the evening was the
art gallery walk hockey game. Besides politics, what can turn ordinary, even sensible folk into a bellowing mob of borderline lunatics? Why, organized sports of course. What flips a switch in cute little six-year old children, wherein they utter phrases like, “Die ref!” or “You suck!” at the top of their precocious little lungs? Why, sports of course. Just what is it that turns docile, frail octogenarians into potential agents of destruction for someone wearing/waving the “wrong” colors? Sports again.
I am fully prepared to believe hockey fans are the most deranged of them all but I have yet to attend a curling match or a cricket match, so I may be wrong. And I’m sure you’ll all let me know. The LFG hubby played hockey at college, so he keeps a little torch burning for the sport and we indulge in watching a live game when we can. I stand up and cheer but do not hoot, holler, roar, bray, or bawl. Not for hockey at least….
After sitting through three twenty minute periods and ruefully noting the miserable state of my tailbone area, I concluded that hockey, like so many other sports, is way too long. Give me the first twenty minutes and I’m satisfied. The next twenty minutes I’m thinking about those nachos at concessions I should have gotten and the bathroom break I should have taken. The last twenty minute period, I’m usually listening in on other people’s conversations around me and speculating on the amount of time I can continue to torture my bladder before I make a scene. You can all relax, I made it through.
How do you celebrate big occasions? And are sports games too long?