Post by quackbeth on Oct 16, 2011 1:02:53 GMT -6
So, I had a Model UN meet with my college in Irvine, which is near Anaheim, (hooray!) this Saturday.
We leave Friday...just as the pre-game fort he Ducks/Sharks game starts.
I must listen to this game--home opener AND a Ducks/Sharks clash AND I didn't really want to talk to my ride all that much, either--and so I'm frantically figuring out how to get the game via my Android...
Figure it out JUST in time for...
The Two-Person, Three Hour Road Trip From Hell.
He starts asking questions, over and over, and I give the sort of short answer you give when you're trying to convey you just don't wan't to talk...but he keeps them coming...and coming...
THEN he turns on the radio, louder and louder--NOTHING but pop songs and rap and boy bands...I'm NEVER more thankful to hear the Ducks' play-by-play team.
Puck drops, we're underway...guy wants me to open a Monster for him, because apparently this is the most vital thing...
NOT checking the directions to make sure we're going the right way the whole way.
But I comply, whatever, he IS driving after all, so cut him some slack, and hey, the Ducks score! Maxime Whats-his-name, first goal in his career, 1-0 Ducks...I'm happy, the first period ends...
And then we start to drift off course.
As Period #2 begins, and both teams start hitting posts and barely missing and having a typically-close, hard-hitting, sniping Ducks/Sharks game, we seem to have strayed from the path SUDDENLY...why, this doesn't seem to be the right exit...
We seem to have taken a slightly different one than the one I gavce off the Mapquest readout and...
We're now not en route to Irvine OR Anaheim, but on Whittier St...
In East Los Angeles.
Now, I don't know if the fame of East LA carries to a Canadian audience, but suffice it to say East LA is one of those places where you look at every person you see as if they're packing coke, MJ, a gun, a knife, and a record...
And those are just the prostitutes (East LA being a Mecca for them.)
SO.
This is not our destination.
And not where you'd prefer to be.
My Reaction: OK, let's just fix it, figure out where we went wrong and--
My Driver Colleague: Ohmigodohmigodohmigod don't look don't look don't look...I'm gonna die...
My Reaction: Listen, it's not too big a deal if you just--
My Driver: THAT MONSTER! GAH! I have to pee...but I can't go HERE!
Me: ...Just go...
Driver: Ohmiiiiiiiiiigod...*deep, deep breaths*
So he wasn't too pleased to be in East LA.
FINALLY we get out of there after about half an hour, with the game into its second intermission, the refs making some poor shots, and Hiller in top form.
This game is ALL that's keeping me sane and stopping me from getting frustrated with the wrong turns and panicking of my driving pal here...
So, hooray for hockey.
We FINALLY get to the restaurant we're all meeting at, and...
1:18 left on the clock...
A minute...
There goes the Sharks goaltender...
Someone's trying to say hello to me, I'm in a catatonic hockey-trance...
45 seconds...
Colleagues ask why I'm not answering, and each second feels like ten...
30 seconds...
By now the whole table is aware someone is deeply involved in a hockey game..
15 seconds, a near miss, I clench my fist, friends look on, bemused...
10
9
8
7
6
5--BOBBY SHOOTS IT DOWN THE ICE!!!!!!!!!!!!
4-3-2-1:
DUCKS WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And the nightmare is OVER! Hockey has done it's duty!
Or so you'd think...for we booked a Mariott hotel room...and after this 4-hour trek, here we are, and--
We're at the WRONG Mariott Hotel in the Irvine Area!
And so, as I lug the luggage--1 backpack for me, like 4 bags of stuff and a full-on printer for the other guy, not including his suit and shirts and such--I see the replay of the game on FSN...
And the SHARKS FAN in our delegation comes up.
And so, as we leave for the real Mariott, after 5 hours of this road trip from hell, with crap music and Monster drinks and wrong turns and East LA thugs and two hotels...
I can gloat about a Ducks win to a Sharks fan.
So--All's Well That Ends WEll, right?
(Anyone else have a fun Hockey-Watching Tale of Terror or Inspiration or what have you...just a fun hockey-watching story?)
We leave Friday...just as the pre-game fort he Ducks/Sharks game starts.
I must listen to this game--home opener AND a Ducks/Sharks clash AND I didn't really want to talk to my ride all that much, either--and so I'm frantically figuring out how to get the game via my Android...
Figure it out JUST in time for...
The Two-Person, Three Hour Road Trip From Hell.
He starts asking questions, over and over, and I give the sort of short answer you give when you're trying to convey you just don't wan't to talk...but he keeps them coming...and coming...
THEN he turns on the radio, louder and louder--NOTHING but pop songs and rap and boy bands...I'm NEVER more thankful to hear the Ducks' play-by-play team.
Puck drops, we're underway...guy wants me to open a Monster for him, because apparently this is the most vital thing...
NOT checking the directions to make sure we're going the right way the whole way.
But I comply, whatever, he IS driving after all, so cut him some slack, and hey, the Ducks score! Maxime Whats-his-name, first goal in his career, 1-0 Ducks...I'm happy, the first period ends...
And then we start to drift off course.
As Period #2 begins, and both teams start hitting posts and barely missing and having a typically-close, hard-hitting, sniping Ducks/Sharks game, we seem to have strayed from the path SUDDENLY...why, this doesn't seem to be the right exit...
We seem to have taken a slightly different one than the one I gavce off the Mapquest readout and...
We're now not en route to Irvine OR Anaheim, but on Whittier St...
In East Los Angeles.
Now, I don't know if the fame of East LA carries to a Canadian audience, but suffice it to say East LA is one of those places where you look at every person you see as if they're packing coke, MJ, a gun, a knife, and a record...
And those are just the prostitutes (East LA being a Mecca for them.)
SO.
This is not our destination.
And not where you'd prefer to be.
My Reaction: OK, let's just fix it, figure out where we went wrong and--
My Driver Colleague: Ohmigodohmigodohmigod don't look don't look don't look...I'm gonna die...
My Reaction: Listen, it's not too big a deal if you just--
My Driver: THAT MONSTER! GAH! I have to pee...but I can't go HERE!
Me: ...Just go...
Driver: Ohmiiiiiiiiiigod...*deep, deep breaths*
So he wasn't too pleased to be in East LA.
FINALLY we get out of there after about half an hour, with the game into its second intermission, the refs making some poor shots, and Hiller in top form.
This game is ALL that's keeping me sane and stopping me from getting frustrated with the wrong turns and panicking of my driving pal here...
So, hooray for hockey.
We FINALLY get to the restaurant we're all meeting at, and...
1:18 left on the clock...
A minute...
There goes the Sharks goaltender...
Someone's trying to say hello to me, I'm in a catatonic hockey-trance...
45 seconds...
Colleagues ask why I'm not answering, and each second feels like ten...
30 seconds...
By now the whole table is aware someone is deeply involved in a hockey game..
15 seconds, a near miss, I clench my fist, friends look on, bemused...
10
9
8
7
6
5--BOBBY SHOOTS IT DOWN THE ICE!!!!!!!!!!!!
4-3-2-1:
DUCKS WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And the nightmare is OVER! Hockey has done it's duty!
Or so you'd think...for we booked a Mariott hotel room...and after this 4-hour trek, here we are, and--
We're at the WRONG Mariott Hotel in the Irvine Area!
And so, as I lug the luggage--1 backpack for me, like 4 bags of stuff and a full-on printer for the other guy, not including his suit and shirts and such--I see the replay of the game on FSN...
And the SHARKS FAN in our delegation comes up.
And so, as we leave for the real Mariott, after 5 hours of this road trip from hell, with crap music and Monster drinks and wrong turns and East LA thugs and two hotels...
I can gloat about a Ducks win to a Sharks fan.
So--All's Well That Ends WEll, right?
(Anyone else have a fun Hockey-Watching Tale of Terror or Inspiration or what have you...just a fun hockey-watching story?)
