For my 16th birthday, my parents flew me to California to spend six weeks with relatives who would drive me up and down the scenic coastline from San Diego to Sacramento seeing the awesome sites of the Golden State. They didn't realize at the time, and neither did I, that I would discover my life's greatest passion.
It all began in 1966 as I peered upward at the Giant Dipper, a wooden roller coaster at Mission Beach, San Diego. I wanted to ride it so badly, but was hesitant. The blood-curdling screams from daredevil riders gave me butterflies in my tummy, but my thrill-seeking cousin wouldn't take "no" for an answer. It was the ride of a lifetime: My wide-open eyes gaping at the "itsy-bitsy" people below as the car crawled to the top of the first big drop, my tummy feeling queasy as the car fell over the edge, the wind blowing my hair out of control as my face contorted into who-knows-what shape, the rough bumps in the track making me scream even louder, and the screeching sound of the ride coming to an end. Cool ride!!! May I go again, please? The long wait in line was definitely worth it! (The coaster was condemned in 1976, but eventually became a national landmark, was renovated, and began it's new life in 1990.)
The only other coaster I rode that summer was the Cyclone Racer at the Pike in Long Beach. It had side-by-side tracks built on a pier that extended out into the ocean. When the coaster made the lower-end ocean turns, I could feel the splash of sea spray against my face. Another awesome ride! Sadly, the ride was destroyed two years later because the City of Long Beach wanted to improve their image! If they only knew then what gigantic coasters lied ahead for daredevils like myself, they might have rethought their decision.
It would be 19 years before I rode my next coaster, the Screamin' Eagle at Six Flags, St. Louis. As the four of us stood in line and peered at the 11-story extravaganza, I soon discovered that I had my own personal "Screamin' Eagle." His name was Jason, 8 years old. He was determined NOT to ride and told me again and again that he would just wait at the exit for us. (1/4 mile away) But I insisted that it would be fun...that he would be safe with mom. I'm sure that didn't make him feel any better as the screaming, crying, and whining continued until the ride was over. You might classify this as another "BAD MOM" moment, but I wasn't going to pass up the thrill of it all. Janelle, on the other hand, begged to ride again--YEAH!! We have another thrill-seeker in the family!
We made numerous trips to Orlando as our children were growing up, but the coasters at Disney World or Universal Studios were "baby toys" compared to those at Busch Gardens in Tampa Bay. As for Jason, he became our official "camera-purse-souvenir" holder. It would be years later before he started "riding." I'm not sure if it was peer pressure or a girlfriend that led him to overcome his fear. As for me, my children had now nicknamed me the "Coaster Junkie!" I went crazy just thinking about my next "fix."
I felt fortunate that Terry liked coasters, or should I say, "tolerated" them. Around noon one Saturday as we were driving into Dallas, he mentioned that I-35 was splitting and wanted to know which way the hotel was. I said that the hotel was 35E, but we were taking 35W. He made the mistake of asking, "Why?" "Ummm... well... we're going to Arlington." "What's there?" he questioned. "Six Flags," I responded as I tried not to watch his reaction. After a long sigh, he reluctantly replied, "Okay, BUT...we're leaving the park before dark because I don't want to be looking for the hotel in the middle of the night." Needless to say, we closed the park down (rode each coaster twice) and admired the night lights of Dallas as I navigated him directly to the hotel without a glitch. (It's a good thing we didn't own Suzie, the GPS.)
When we moved to northern Virginia, my passion for coasters grew beyond belief. We lived half an hour from Six Flags America in Maryland, less than 100 miles from Busch Gardens and King's Dominion in VA, and just a mere two hours from Hershey Park, Pennsylvania. Anyone who came to visit this "junkie" could count on spending at least a day at one of these parks. We even ventured as far north as Jackson, New Jersey, to check out Six Flags Great Adventure, and as far west as Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, to test the Dollywood coasters. (a super disappointment)
I never missed an opportunity to feed my addiction. I recall Terry asking me early one Mother's Day morning what I'd like to do. I casually said, "Take me to Six Flags today, please?" He thought that was about the dumbest suggestion ever because the park would be packed and the lines would be so long. "Are you kidding?" I chuckled. "What mother in her right mind would take her children to an amusement park on HER day?" :) We rode the coasters all day without having to wait in line once...our kind of day.
I've traveled the country to ride coasters but am so disappointed that I was never able to ride the coaster atop the Stratosphere in Las Vegas. It could only operate if the wind was less than 5 miles per hour (at 1100 feet above ground level). The morning we planned to ride it, Terry came down with vertigo...the poor fella spent the day at the ER instead. He was having his own thrill ride of sorts. (Sorry!) The roller coaster is no longer there, but I just might have to try the extreme thrill rides that replaced it the next time I travel to Vegas.
I have ridden "stand-up" coasters, "water soaker" coasters, "lie down" coasters, a "backward" coaster (the Rebel Yell which is no longer at King's Dominion). You name it, I've probably ridden it or one similar to it. I LOVE ROLLER COASTERS!!! That's why I absolutely crave the thought of riding the coasters at Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio, which people say have the best coasters in the world. I have put that trip on my bucket list...
...which leads me to one final note. I have informed Terry and my children that when I die, cremate me--find the fastest, tallest outdoor coaster they can, and turn me loose!! I will be smiling down upon them and having the greatest, most fulfilling ride of my life! (I suggest you choose the last car!)
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
A Fearful, Sad Celebration
"Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)?" by Alan Jackson is a clear reminder of how we all felt on September 11, 2001. For TC and me, it began as a great day of celebration because it was our 25th Wedding Anniversary, a day we will relive for years to come. Even as I am editing this blog and listening to the music, I can't help but shed a few tears...it's like it was yesterday.
Picture ten miles in your mind--the distance from Savage to Crane. Perhaps it's how far you drive to attend a movie, do some shopping, or take your child to a special park to play. It seems so close, doesn't it? Terry was working less than 10 miles from the Pentagon that morning, operating heavy equipment for the groundwork of a new housing development.
Picture twenty miles in your mind--the distance from Savage to Sidney. Do you realize that it's 20 miles from the Billings Heights to Zoo Montana on the West End? Perhaps it's how far you travel to your favorite fishing spot. Or maybe it's how far you drive, take a bus, or even a subway to visit your loved ones. It seems so close, doesn't it? That was the distance from my workplace to Washington, DC.
I had been at work for less than an hour when my boss summoned the staff to her office. Her teary eyes were glued to the television screen watching clips of the first hit on the World Trade Center. The horror in the commentator's voice and the eerie silence of my five co-workers, except for the small gasps of disbelief, seemed surreal. When the second tower was hit, the tears began flowing from us all as we joined hands and prayed for the injured and dying, for their families, for the rescue workers who would be called upon to miraculously save as many lives as they possibly could, and for those feeling the pain of all this senselessness.
At 9:20 the ringing of a single phone brought us back to reality. The call was from Noelle's acquaintance who worked at the British Embassy. He quickly informed her that there was another plane in flight, and it was headed for Washington. He also told her that two F-16's had been dispatched. Why? He didn't say, but in the back of our minds I'm sure we were all thinking the same thing. We hadn't heard that shocking news on the telecast yet, but it inevitably sent chills down my spine as fear now replaced sorrow. Where would it hit? Am I in danger here? What about Terry? Am I being a thoughtless and selfish person while others are losing their lives?
As horrible thoughts of death ravaged through my mind, I rushed to my office for my cell phone. I called TC, and only heard voice mail. I left a message...told him to call me right away. I just needed to hear his voice. That phone never left my side the entire workday, but it never rang either. In fact, none of the phones were ringing...they had gone dead. Within a half hour, news of the Pentagon being struck by a plane flashed across the screen. Oh no....my boss had worked at the Pentagon for 12 years and had many friends still employed there. She was devastated! Thank God our prayers were answered and that none of her friends lost their lives that day.
Now I began thinking of my own friends and what they must be feeling. Adrienne, a dear companion of mine, had just moved to Cape Cod. Her daughter worked for Morgan Stanley Associates at the World Trade Center. I couldn't imagine what Adrienne must be feeling when she heard of the attack. The next day I was finally able to reach her and learned that her daughter had had an early breakfast meeting and was two blocks from the World Trade Center when it was struck. Prayers had once again been answered. However, her daughter Lisa did lose more than a thousand friends that day. She left NYC but eventually returned to once again work for Morgan Stanley
I thought of Bill, our neighbor, who worked at the FAA Headquarters in the District. I remembered that he was actually in Alaska on business, so I knew he was safe. Then there was Nancy, his wife, an air traffic controller. I learned later of her harrowing experience.
It was to be her day off, but as soon as the World Trade Center was hit, she was called into work. It was a 15-mile drive to Leesburg for her; and once she reached the facility, she realized the magnitude of the situation. As she parked her vehicle, she saw military personnel armed with machine guns surrounding the building. By this time, all planes had been grounded, and it was her job to make sure that no one, absolutely no one, would fly on the eastern seaboard.
She told us later about one specific gentleman who insisted that he get permission to fly his private jet out of the area. He was absolutely belligerent, but she told him emphatically, "My orders are to tell you...if you fly, your plane WILL BE shot down." Needless to say, even if he thought he was above and beyond the law, he wisely chose not to fly that day. It's rather scary to think, however, that it could actually have happened.
Regarding Terry, the phone call finally came as I was on my way home from work. I wish that he would have called sooner, but thank God he was safe. My prayers had been answered once again. We went out for dinner that night, but it was the saddest celebration ever. It was only then that he relayed his own hair-raising experience.
While running heavy equipment he listens to the radio all day long (probably why he can't hear his cell phone). He knew of the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon and knew that all aircraft had been grounded. Feeling his machinery begin to vibrate and hearing a thunderous roar above him, he looked up only to find a huge plane flying so low (he estimated several hundred feet) that he said he could read the writing on the bottom of it. As shivers covered him, his first thought was that of yet another attack on Washington. Later, we learned that aircraft from overseas were still being allowed to land at Reagan National Airport rather than Newark or Atlanta.
We have been to Ground Zero since that day; and as I watched the ceremony yesterday for those who lost their lives on Flight 93, which crashed in Pennsylvania, I was appalled to learn that the monument is not finished because of a lack of funds. I felt ashamed that our government could be so insensitive to those who lost their loved ones.
September 11, 2001--I don't think I have to worry about TC ever forgetting our anniversary in coming years...and I already know what the topic at dinner will be as we count our blessings. For any of you who lost loved ones on this saddest of days, please know that we continue to pray for you. God Bless You All.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
My "Bad Mom" Moments
When my children were growing up in a rural Montana town of 500 residents, the thought never crossed my mind that they could possibly be kidnapped or harmed by others. Predators, pedophiles, or "Amber Alert" were never topics discussed among the morning coffee ladies. I was oblivious to "that" outside world even though TC and I spent a great deal of time traveling with our children. Today the world is a much different place than it was in the 1980's.
It doesn't mean, however, that my children were never lost due to my "BAD MOM" moments. If I had an opportunity for a "redo", I would definitely use more common sense than I had exhibited in the following:
JANELLE
It was a Saturday morning in the dead of winter, the temperature hovering around zero degrees with about a foot of snow on the ground. As my two children, Janelle, 2 1/2, and Jason, almost 4, watched cartoons, I went about doing my household duties: making the beds, starting my laundry, and cleaning up after breakfast. TC mentioned that he was going to the store and wouldn't be gone long.
Several minutes later as I walked into the living room, I noticed that Janelle was not there, so I called out her name and heard nothing. I asked Jason where his sister was..."I dunno." The search was on as I combed our tiny home room by room looking into closets, under beds, in corners, the entire time calling out her name. No Janelle! I checked again and again...still no Janelle. Where IS she?
I slipped on my shoes and stepped outside yelling her name. No answer! I walked around the outskirts of the house to no avail. I was one hysterical mother!! "Janelle! Janelle!" All I could hear was the dead silence of a cold winter morning. Why wasn't TC back yet? I need help!! She was wearing a long nightie...no footies...she'll freeze out here!
Finally TC drove into the yard and saw that I was frantic. I blurted out that I couldn't find Jen and that he needed to do something...AND NOW!! He called out her name several times and rushed indoors. He thought she was inside and that I had just missed her. As he ran from room to room doing a search, I heard a knock at the door.
It was Mae...with Janelle in her arms. I couldn't imagine what had happened. As we put the story together, it was apparent that Janelle had followed TC out the door. (We're still debating if he actually closed the door behind him as he left.) She proceeded to make her way across the street to Frank's house. He was an elderly gentleman who adored all the children in the neighborhood and was always giving them little goodies of chips and sodas.
Janelle opened his door, walked into the living room where Frank, Mae, and Shorty were visiting and having their morning coffee, did a few trips around the living room, helped herself to a cookie--never saying a word the entire time. That's when Mae heard TC calling for Janelle and returned our curious one to her rightful home, bare feet and all.
It didn't take TC long to install hooks on our doors high enough so neither Janelle nor Jason could reach them. There was no way that I wanted to relive that nightmare! Needless to say, there were more....
JASON
During our family vacation to Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri, we thought it would be fun to spend several days in St. Louis to see the Gateway Arch and Riverfront area, as well as the St. Louis Zoo. I was never much of a baseball fan, but TC wanted to go to a Cardinals game at Busch Stadium. Jason and Janelle begged to go to the game even though they had never even seen a baseball game in their short lifetimes. (Kids will say anything to get a hot dog and soda!) So...off we went!
TC got the perfect tickets in the Bob Uecker "Section 433." (located above the right field boundary pole or whatever it's called) Oh my! Oh my! Did anyone bring the binoculars? It was so apparent that TC spent more on hot dogs and pops (and rain ponchos) than he did on those tickets. The only good thing about the seats was that there was a slight overhang so when the rain began to pour, we didn't get quite as soaked as those with the more expensive seats. YEAH! BOB UECKER!!
It wasn't long into the game before Jason had to use the restroom. It was NOT my job to take an 8-year-old into the ladies room, but TC was engrossed in the game. He told Jason that the restroom was right outside the exit door and to remember "433," (pointing to the big section sign) and that we would be waiting for him. At least TC got one thing right...we waited and waited...and waited some more. No Jason! After 30 minutes, I was obviously more than hysterical! TC was now the "BAD DAD!" How could he be so damn calm? and why wasn't he leaving to go find him? I was NOT a happy mother!
It seemed like hours had passed before TC finally said that he had spotted Jason....near the home plate section but he was working his way toward us. TC did go meet him halfway, but I was so curious as to how Jason ended up nearly half way around the stadium. "Ohhh...so there was a line and you didn't want to wait? and you looked for the next one? and the next one? until there was no line...I get it!" A stadium filled with 50,000+ people and you found a restroom with no waiting line....Way to go, Jason!
JANELLE AND JASON
One early June I thought it would be a great time to adventure to Edmonton during the Stanley Cup Playoffs and hopefully get a glimpse of Wayne Gretzky during a scheduled parade on Jasper Avenue after the finals were over. We could have gotten tickets to the final game, but it was standing room only; and no way was I going to let my two darlings out of my sight after the hair-raising incident at the ballgame even though they were another year older.
TC wasn't able to go (that didn't surprise me) so I invited a lady friend to come along for the ride. I did warn her, though, to "expect the unexpected." She giggled because she had known my children since they were born and had four of her own.
Once we arrived in Edmonton, we discovered a vast amount of activities within the mall. Our first day was spent in Galaxyland, an indoor amusement park. I swear they rode every ride at least a dozen times and spent hundreds of dollars on those carnival sideshow rip-offs. The second day was spent at the indoor water park with its 17 water slides and tidal pool. They had never been to a huge water park before so it was an awesome day for us.
When the third day rolled around, it was time to stroll the remainder of the mall beginning with the full-size hockey rink located in the center of the mall. My two ice skaters would have spent hours watching the little ones practicing various routines, but my friend and I wanted to do some serious shopping. However, it seemed that everywhere we went, more activities would magically appear: the life-size replica of the Santa Maria to explore, the dolphin shows to watch, miniature golf to play...and we hadn't even left the first level yet.
As we meandered through the mall doing serious shopping, the darlings were quite bored unless it was a toy store or a game room that we happened to find. They spotted an escalator and begged me if they could ride it. I casually said, "Sure, just be sure to ride the DOWN escalator, and I'll meet you." As I continued to walk straight ahead, I began searching for the down escalator...where was it?...25 feet ahead....50 feet ahead...100 feet ahead...and still no down escalator! I back-tracked thinking that I had missed it. Still I couldn't find it. I DO know that what goes up MUST come down!
Hysteria time once again!! My friend wasn't the most helpful because I think she was just as anxious as I was. What to do? What to do? It was time to think like a 7- and 9-year old. "If we keep walking ahead, we'll come to the hockey rink--I bet you money that's where they are"--so off we went still hoping to find the down escalator along the way.
As we neared the rink, I began scanning the railing surrounding the ice looking for two wide-eyed darlings. We walked the entire perimeter of the rink and still no Jason and Janelle. As I scanned the mall map looking for "Security" (my next option), my friend yelled, "I see them!!" "Where?!!" I screamed back at her. Pointing across the rink, she blurted out, "THERE!! RIDING THE GLASS ELEVATOR!"
Sure enough!! I saw their faces plastered against the glass watching the ice skaters! I waved frantically, hoping I could catch their glance as my friend ran toward the elevator. Finally, tiny hands began waving back as I prayed for them NOT to get off the elevator until they reached Level 1.
Big hugs were the order of the day as I approached them and began hearing of the great "ride" they were on. (Just think how much I could have saved in Galaxyland if I had found this elevator first!) How could I possibly be upset with them. After all, I was the one who let them slip away from me...my "Bad Mom" moment. Did they ride the escalators again? Of course, but mom wanted to ride it, too!
It doesn't mean, however, that my children were never lost due to my "BAD MOM" moments. If I had an opportunity for a "redo", I would definitely use more common sense than I had exhibited in the following:
JANELLE
It was a Saturday morning in the dead of winter, the temperature hovering around zero degrees with about a foot of snow on the ground. As my two children, Janelle, 2 1/2, and Jason, almost 4, watched cartoons, I went about doing my household duties: making the beds, starting my laundry, and cleaning up after breakfast. TC mentioned that he was going to the store and wouldn't be gone long.
Several minutes later as I walked into the living room, I noticed that Janelle was not there, so I called out her name and heard nothing. I asked Jason where his sister was..."I dunno." The search was on as I combed our tiny home room by room looking into closets, under beds, in corners, the entire time calling out her name. No Janelle! I checked again and again...still no Janelle. Where IS she?
I slipped on my shoes and stepped outside yelling her name. No answer! I walked around the outskirts of the house to no avail. I was one hysterical mother!! "Janelle! Janelle!" All I could hear was the dead silence of a cold winter morning. Why wasn't TC back yet? I need help!! She was wearing a long nightie...no footies...she'll freeze out here!
Finally TC drove into the yard and saw that I was frantic. I blurted out that I couldn't find Jen and that he needed to do something...AND NOW!! He called out her name several times and rushed indoors. He thought she was inside and that I had just missed her. As he ran from room to room doing a search, I heard a knock at the door.
It was Mae...with Janelle in her arms. I couldn't imagine what had happened. As we put the story together, it was apparent that Janelle had followed TC out the door. (We're still debating if he actually closed the door behind him as he left.) She proceeded to make her way across the street to Frank's house. He was an elderly gentleman who adored all the children in the neighborhood and was always giving them little goodies of chips and sodas.
Janelle opened his door, walked into the living room where Frank, Mae, and Shorty were visiting and having their morning coffee, did a few trips around the living room, helped herself to a cookie--never saying a word the entire time. That's when Mae heard TC calling for Janelle and returned our curious one to her rightful home, bare feet and all.
It didn't take TC long to install hooks on our doors high enough so neither Janelle nor Jason could reach them. There was no way that I wanted to relive that nightmare! Needless to say, there were more....
JASON
During our family vacation to Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri, we thought it would be fun to spend several days in St. Louis to see the Gateway Arch and Riverfront area, as well as the St. Louis Zoo. I was never much of a baseball fan, but TC wanted to go to a Cardinals game at Busch Stadium. Jason and Janelle begged to go to the game even though they had never even seen a baseball game in their short lifetimes. (Kids will say anything to get a hot dog and soda!) So...off we went!
TC got the perfect tickets in the Bob Uecker "Section 433." (located above the right field boundary pole or whatever it's called) Oh my! Oh my! Did anyone bring the binoculars? It was so apparent that TC spent more on hot dogs and pops (and rain ponchos) than he did on those tickets. The only good thing about the seats was that there was a slight overhang so when the rain began to pour, we didn't get quite as soaked as those with the more expensive seats. YEAH! BOB UECKER!!
It wasn't long into the game before Jason had to use the restroom. It was NOT my job to take an 8-year-old into the ladies room, but TC was engrossed in the game. He told Jason that the restroom was right outside the exit door and to remember "433," (pointing to the big section sign) and that we would be waiting for him. At least TC got one thing right...we waited and waited...and waited some more. No Jason! After 30 minutes, I was obviously more than hysterical! TC was now the "BAD DAD!" How could he be so damn calm? and why wasn't he leaving to go find him? I was NOT a happy mother!
It seemed like hours had passed before TC finally said that he had spotted Jason....near the home plate section but he was working his way toward us. TC did go meet him halfway, but I was so curious as to how Jason ended up nearly half way around the stadium. "Ohhh...so there was a line and you didn't want to wait? and you looked for the next one? and the next one? until there was no line...I get it!" A stadium filled with 50,000+ people and you found a restroom with no waiting line....Way to go, Jason!
JANELLE AND JASON
One early June I thought it would be a great time to adventure to Edmonton during the Stanley Cup Playoffs and hopefully get a glimpse of Wayne Gretzky during a scheduled parade on Jasper Avenue after the finals were over. We could have gotten tickets to the final game, but it was standing room only; and no way was I going to let my two darlings out of my sight after the hair-raising incident at the ballgame even though they were another year older.
TC wasn't able to go (that didn't surprise me) so I invited a lady friend to come along for the ride. I did warn her, though, to "expect the unexpected." She giggled because she had known my children since they were born and had four of her own.
Once we arrived in Edmonton, we discovered a vast amount of activities within the mall. Our first day was spent in Galaxyland, an indoor amusement park. I swear they rode every ride at least a dozen times and spent hundreds of dollars on those carnival sideshow rip-offs. The second day was spent at the indoor water park with its 17 water slides and tidal pool. They had never been to a huge water park before so it was an awesome day for us.
When the third day rolled around, it was time to stroll the remainder of the mall beginning with the full-size hockey rink located in the center of the mall. My two ice skaters would have spent hours watching the little ones practicing various routines, but my friend and I wanted to do some serious shopping. However, it seemed that everywhere we went, more activities would magically appear: the life-size replica of the Santa Maria to explore, the dolphin shows to watch, miniature golf to play...and we hadn't even left the first level yet.
As we meandered through the mall doing serious shopping, the darlings were quite bored unless it was a toy store or a game room that we happened to find. They spotted an escalator and begged me if they could ride it. I casually said, "Sure, just be sure to ride the DOWN escalator, and I'll meet you." As I continued to walk straight ahead, I began searching for the down escalator...where was it?...25 feet ahead....50 feet ahead...100 feet ahead...and still no down escalator! I back-tracked thinking that I had missed it. Still I couldn't find it. I DO know that what goes up MUST come down!
Hysteria time once again!! My friend wasn't the most helpful because I think she was just as anxious as I was. What to do? What to do? It was time to think like a 7- and 9-year old. "If we keep walking ahead, we'll come to the hockey rink--I bet you money that's where they are"--so off we went still hoping to find the down escalator along the way.
As we neared the rink, I began scanning the railing surrounding the ice looking for two wide-eyed darlings. We walked the entire perimeter of the rink and still no Jason and Janelle. As I scanned the mall map looking for "Security" (my next option), my friend yelled, "I see them!!" "Where?!!" I screamed back at her. Pointing across the rink, she blurted out, "THERE!! RIDING THE GLASS ELEVATOR!"
Sure enough!! I saw their faces plastered against the glass watching the ice skaters! I waved frantically, hoping I could catch their glance as my friend ran toward the elevator. Finally, tiny hands began waving back as I prayed for them NOT to get off the elevator until they reached Level 1.
Big hugs were the order of the day as I approached them and began hearing of the great "ride" they were on. (Just think how much I could have saved in Galaxyland if I had found this elevator first!) How could I possibly be upset with them. After all, I was the one who let them slip away from me...my "Bad Mom" moment. Did they ride the escalators again? Of course, but mom wanted to ride it, too!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Oprah vs. Blackhawks
I've been a great lover of hockey since my son first started playing the sport in grade school. Weeknights were filled with practices, and weekends were spent traveling to North Dakota and Canada for games and tournaments. We traveled as far north as Winnipeg and as far east as the Twin Cities to watch NHL games.
When my five co-workers and I headed to Chicago to host a national convention, hockey was the furthest thing from my mind. We would spend the next ten days in the "Windy City," with a few spare days for site-seeing. We were staying at the Marriott on Michigan Avenue also known as the Magnificent Mile (of shopping.) A mile of stores? Were they serious? I'm the one who even hates to venture to Wal-Mart.
Early one morning my co-workers and I made our way to the concierge's desk to see what type of activities we could find to entertain ourselves. Oprah tickets? Why were my friends so excited? I didn't even watch Oprah, let alone want to see her. They got tickets while I continued to wait in line. I definitely wanted something better to do...now sell me a hockey ticket and I'll be in seventh heaven.
I had watched the Chicago Blackhawks for years on television and had always wondered why the fans cheered through the National Anthem. To me, it seemed that such behavior was utterly disrespectful. I needed to see up close and personal what that was all about--sell me a ticket if you have one, please. What? They're playing the Detroit Redwings, their rivals from hell? I'll take the best seat in the house if you have any left!!
As the gentleman handed me my ticket, the only question I had for him was, "Ummm...how do I get to the game?" He laughed and pointed toward the door. "At 5:00 go out that door, take a right, and walk to the corner. The bus will pick you up." That sounded easy enough. My friends peered inquisitively at me, shook their heads, and said, You're crazy!" Perhaps....
As I stood on the corner at 4:45 waiting, I thought to myself, "I'm not crazy, or am I? A lady alone in the city headed for a hockey game at night?" The red Blackhawk jerseys began surrounding me in groves. In fact, once the bus arrived and I jumped aboard, all I saw was a sea of red. I felt a strange sense of security knowing that I wasn't alone. It seemed like only seconds before the United Center loomed ahead of me as the bus drew to a halt. I chose to be the last to depart the bus; and as I peered at the driver, he must have been reading my mind. "After the game, come out this same entrance and I'll be waiting for you but across the street. Look for bus #27. I won't leave without you." What a great guy!!
I had been in hockey venues before and knew that if I didn't pay attention to my surroundings, I could easily get lost. It wouldn't be the first time for me! I noted every vendor, restroom, and sign as I strolled the outer edge of the venue in search of Section 113. Once I found it, I grabbed a soda and snack and headed for my seat. I didn't want to miss the National Anthem; after all, that's why I was here.
"Great seat," I thought as I slipped into it and got comfy. I was just in time to watch the players do their routine stretching and warm up shots. The seats on both sides of me were currently unoccupied, but I was hoping to have friendly bodies beside me, perhaps someone that would at least occasionally chat with me. Within minutes, my "neighbors" began arriving; it only took a second to realize that I undoubtedly got more than I had bargained for as the sea of red-jerseyed gentlemen swarmed my space, a beer in one hand and a tomahawk in the other.
When the players were being introduced on the ice, I saw absolutely NO empty seats in the house; and the Redwing fans were definitely letting it be known that they were out in full force. I'm sure that for the next three hours, I'd be a Blackhawk fan, considering I might get scalped with a "nerf" tomahawk if I cheered for the opposition.
As the first note of the National Anthem rang throughout the venue, the whoops and hollers began, accompanied by clapping hands, stomping feet, as well as the faint sound of words being sung. I was speechless! It's difficult to verbally describe the aura that hugged the arena except that goosebumps covered me from head to toe. The sensation I felt was totally awesome and in no way disrespectful. Now I knew, but still didn't understand. It's a phenomena at it's greatest moment.
Once my beer-drinking, tomahawk-toting "neighbors" discovered that I had come to the game alone, they were on a mission to keep me entertained during the entire game; then again, I'm easily amused at times. "Yes, I came alone." "Yes, I love hockey!" "No thank you. I have a soda here." "Yes, I do know what offsides is." "Oh, yes, I saw that hit." "Yes, I know the Hockey Song. lol" "No, I really don't care to have a beer." "I'm originally from Montana, but am a true Caps fan now because I live outside D.C." "I'm here for work and chose the Blackhawks over Ophrah." "I thought so, too." "Whoopsie! It's okay; I've had beer spilled on me before. :)" ...and so went the evening. They were, without a doubt, more entertaining than the game itself.
Following the game, I didn't have any difficulty finding the bus once I squished my way through the massive crowd of fans to the correct entrance/exit. As I approached the bus, the driver gave me an enormous smile and asked if I enjoyed the game. "LOVED IT!!" During the return bus trip, he chose not to stop at the corner, but directly opposite the Marriott, waited until I crossed the street, and gave a huge wave out his window. What a great guy!
By the way, the Blackhawks won the game! Woo Hoo!!
When my five co-workers and I headed to Chicago to host a national convention, hockey was the furthest thing from my mind. We would spend the next ten days in the "Windy City," with a few spare days for site-seeing. We were staying at the Marriott on Michigan Avenue also known as the Magnificent Mile (of shopping.) A mile of stores? Were they serious? I'm the one who even hates to venture to Wal-Mart.
Early one morning my co-workers and I made our way to the concierge's desk to see what type of activities we could find to entertain ourselves. Oprah tickets? Why were my friends so excited? I didn't even watch Oprah, let alone want to see her. They got tickets while I continued to wait in line. I definitely wanted something better to do...now sell me a hockey ticket and I'll be in seventh heaven.
I had watched the Chicago Blackhawks for years on television and had always wondered why the fans cheered through the National Anthem. To me, it seemed that such behavior was utterly disrespectful. I needed to see up close and personal what that was all about--sell me a ticket if you have one, please. What? They're playing the Detroit Redwings, their rivals from hell? I'll take the best seat in the house if you have any left!!
As the gentleman handed me my ticket, the only question I had for him was, "Ummm...how do I get to the game?" He laughed and pointed toward the door. "At 5:00 go out that door, take a right, and walk to the corner. The bus will pick you up." That sounded easy enough. My friends peered inquisitively at me, shook their heads, and said, You're crazy!" Perhaps....
As I stood on the corner at 4:45 waiting, I thought to myself, "I'm not crazy, or am I? A lady alone in the city headed for a hockey game at night?" The red Blackhawk jerseys began surrounding me in groves. In fact, once the bus arrived and I jumped aboard, all I saw was a sea of red. I felt a strange sense of security knowing that I wasn't alone. It seemed like only seconds before the United Center loomed ahead of me as the bus drew to a halt. I chose to be the last to depart the bus; and as I peered at the driver, he must have been reading my mind. "After the game, come out this same entrance and I'll be waiting for you but across the street. Look for bus #27. I won't leave without you." What a great guy!!
I had been in hockey venues before and knew that if I didn't pay attention to my surroundings, I could easily get lost. It wouldn't be the first time for me! I noted every vendor, restroom, and sign as I strolled the outer edge of the venue in search of Section 113. Once I found it, I grabbed a soda and snack and headed for my seat. I didn't want to miss the National Anthem; after all, that's why I was here.
"Great seat," I thought as I slipped into it and got comfy. I was just in time to watch the players do their routine stretching and warm up shots. The seats on both sides of me were currently unoccupied, but I was hoping to have friendly bodies beside me, perhaps someone that would at least occasionally chat with me. Within minutes, my "neighbors" began arriving; it only took a second to realize that I undoubtedly got more than I had bargained for as the sea of red-jerseyed gentlemen swarmed my space, a beer in one hand and a tomahawk in the other.
When the players were being introduced on the ice, I saw absolutely NO empty seats in the house; and the Redwing fans were definitely letting it be known that they were out in full force. I'm sure that for the next three hours, I'd be a Blackhawk fan, considering I might get scalped with a "nerf" tomahawk if I cheered for the opposition.
As the first note of the National Anthem rang throughout the venue, the whoops and hollers began, accompanied by clapping hands, stomping feet, as well as the faint sound of words being sung. I was speechless! It's difficult to verbally describe the aura that hugged the arena except that goosebumps covered me from head to toe. The sensation I felt was totally awesome and in no way disrespectful. Now I knew, but still didn't understand. It's a phenomena at it's greatest moment.
Once my beer-drinking, tomahawk-toting "neighbors" discovered that I had come to the game alone, they were on a mission to keep me entertained during the entire game; then again, I'm easily amused at times. "Yes, I came alone." "Yes, I love hockey!" "No thank you. I have a soda here." "Yes, I do know what offsides is." "Oh, yes, I saw that hit." "Yes, I know the Hockey Song. lol" "No, I really don't care to have a beer." "I'm originally from Montana, but am a true Caps fan now because I live outside D.C." "I'm here for work and chose the Blackhawks over Ophrah." "I thought so, too." "Whoopsie! It's okay; I've had beer spilled on me before. :)" ...and so went the evening. They were, without a doubt, more entertaining than the game itself.
Following the game, I didn't have any difficulty finding the bus once I squished my way through the massive crowd of fans to the correct entrance/exit. As I approached the bus, the driver gave me an enormous smile and asked if I enjoyed the game. "LOVED IT!!" During the return bus trip, he chose not to stop at the corner, but directly opposite the Marriott, waited until I crossed the street, and gave a huge wave out his window. What a great guy!
By the way, the Blackhawks won the game! Woo Hoo!!
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