My impressions of a hockey game

Intel might be the kind of job that chews you up and spits you back out, but they do seem to take care of their employees.

Last Saturday, they provided the opportunity for the Intel folks and their families to go to a Winter fest sort of thing at the Memorial Coliseum in Portland. Everything from skates to food and the tickets to the game that night was free, so we thought it would be fun to do.

And it would have been great had not some 5-6 thousand other people thought the same thing.

After getting "misplaced" a time or two and driving a bit willy-nilly around Portland, we got to the coliseum at 2 o'clock, right when the doors were supposed to open.

Unfortunately, the said approximate 5,000 other people who had got there first were lined up all the way down the sidewalk and snaking in a serpentine trail all the way up to the doors.

We got in at about 3 o'clock.

After wandering around for maybe thirty minutes, trying to find out where everything was, Em, Jess and I found the line for to get your ice skates.

Ice skating is one of the joys (although a rare joy) of my life, thus, about an hour and a half later, when we finally got up to the counter to get our skates, I was ecstatic with joy.

After about 10-15 minutes (instead of the previous limit of 30 minutes) of skittering around on the ice, we were told to clear the ice so they could get it ready for the hockey game.

I understand that a large percentage of Americans love football, but I do not.

I have decided that I do like hockey. I think hockey takes a lot more talent than football; to be able to skate fast and well, handling the puck with a stick and still being able to beat up your adversaries...

Dad likes to say that hockey is the closest you can get to the gladiators.

Em likes to say that we went to a fight and a hockey game broke out. ;P

This was my first experience with any sport live instead of on TV. It was the Portland Winterhawks against the Canadian Chiliwack Bruins. Overlooking the rock music played just below the level of pain, the thinly-cushioned metal chairs that were not designed for comfort, the raging headache and the alcoholic beverages that a good deal of people consumed (not including us!!) and I'd say the game was great!

We got seats that were close to the glass (maybe the 3rd row) so you could actually see what was going on (although Em and I had no idea what was really going on, so while everyone else was up on their feet hooting and hollering, we remained placidly seated)

The Winterhawks won (of course, as Dad might possibly say). No major fights or injuries, luckily. So with our free Winterhawk scarves, we got home at 11 o'clock at night, raided the pantry like a swarm of locusts and collapsed into bed.

If you've ever seen The Longest Day, the scene where the paratrooper gets hung up on the bell tower in St. Mere Eglise, you might get a good idea of how I felt in the amazing silence of home.

"I can't hear you. I've had bells ringing in my ears for ten hours. Ding, dong! Ding, dong!"

And, yes, this is me, trying to look like I know what I'm doing on the ice, failing miserably (well, I did stay on my feet the whole time) and just about to crash into the photographer. Ta da!