Last night I went to a hockey game, and while I was there I sort of went on someone else's first date. I suspect it will be their last as well. I was sitting next to a couple who were about my age, so let's say mid-30s. It's not important in general, but it is to the story -- he was white and she was black.
The first few minutes of the game they were talking about the rules of the game. She hadn't been to a game in a few years and he had never been at all. (I wonder what made them think this would be a good thing for them to do on their first date?) This got them through the first 10 minutes or so. She was actually asking me a bunch of questions and then passing along the answers to him.
About halfway through the first period he said "I was going to mention it during dinner, but I saw an interesting show on the National Geographic channel the other day. It was about how virus are created and get mutated to make us sick each year." His tale was heavy on mucous and germs. I thought to myself, "I'll bet she's glad he didn't bring that up during dinner."
From there they (logically) moved on to evolution. He strongly believes in it. She's apparently very religious and is more of a creationist. He then tried to talk her out of her strongly held beliefs, to no avail. She mentioned that she actually had to be at church at 6:30 the next morning to help with a church breakfast. He asked if she could skip it so they could go out to drinks after the game. She said no, she sticks to her commitments.
In the second period the discussion moved on to work. She hopes to stop working so late every day, but really, she's very busy and can't ever do anything during the week. Ever. He works at a small company and doesn't know who the owner is but likes that he has a coworker who brings in a griddle on Friday's and makes everyone pancakes.
Her family is up north; she was happy to grow up in the suburbs of Boston with a swimming pool and lots of friends. He was an Army brat and only talks to his mom and paternal grandmother. There are other relatives, but there's been a falling out and he doesn't talk to them much any more. He wanted to join the Army his whole life, but someone talked him out of it and he's still mad at them. He's very patriotic; she said she was too. He said that normal families don't understand that the way military families do. There's just no comparison.
Up to this point, all of the chatter is pretty basic getting-to-know-you stuff. Biographical. Awkward. I'm thinking they must have met online, because he has pictures of her. In fact, he says, he showed her pictures to his mom. His mom said she was "real pretty" and, he added happily, his mom didn't have a problem with him dating her.
She was sitting to my right and actually nudged me with her elbow. Did he really just say that?
Within a couple of minutes she started talking about being very tired and hoping the Canes would score again so that they could go ahead and leave. I actually left early and don't know how it all ended. I suspect he probably won't be seeing her again. Ever.
Oh yeah -- the Canes won, 2-0.
Showing posts with label Journey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Journey. Show all posts
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Don't Stop Believing
I didn't always love sports. As a kid the only ones I would watch on tv were figure skating and gymnastics. I realized, at age 11, that my dream of competing at the Olympics would never come true. How sad is it to have your dreams dashed at the age of 11 anyway? (Darn that Mary Lou Retton!) Years passed, I grew up and along the way I discovered you can learn to do something just because you like it; you don't have to be the best or brightest and you can settle for less than world domination. Sometimes, it's just fun. For 5 years, starting at age 24, I took figure skating lessons. By the time I stopped I had 5 different jumps. Not good ones, and I didn't exactly get airborne, but if you ever need a demonstration of a salchow or toe loop, I'm your girl.
I think that's what is so magical about the Little League World Series. These are kids who have worked hard but are still having fun. It isn't a job. Someday they will look back and have this great story about something they did when they were 12, but it won't be who they are. I love the research the announcers have on the kids -- favorite players, favorite actors, favorite school subject. Next year I would love to go see Christian play in Williamsport, but really, I'd rather see him play with his friends at home. They grow up too fast as it is.
March Madness is sort of the same thing. Of course there are guys playing who use this as their tryout for the NBA. Those guys are the reason I usually want to change the channel. I watch for the seniors who have never played on tv before, but are getting a shot at the spotlight. They don't even get 15 minutes of fame -- it's more like 15 seconds. They'll go on to be hedge fund managers or dentists who just happen to be really tall.
In a season of scandals, the worst thing that happened in hockey this summer was Eric Staal's bachelor party. A bunch of farm kids getting drunk, being loud and yelling at cars at 4 in the morning (the horror!). This isn't a story about entitled rich brats -- it's just boys being boys and I'm totally OK with it. It sounds like the worst crime committed was that horrible shirt Jordan is wearing in his mug shot. (Seriously, it's like he dressed for jail before the party even started.)
Anyone who has been here before knows I unabashedly love hockey. There is no room for ego on a hockey team. Sure, there are superstars scattered across the league, but only a few are household names. Every guy on the ice is there to support every other one -- there really isn't room for the kind of players you see in football or basketball. At the end of every playoff series, both teams live up to shake hands - no one leaves until it's over. In other sports, the team that loses runs for the locker room (to hide their tears?). Training camp is only a few days away. I can hardly wait.
I think that's what is so magical about the Little League World Series. These are kids who have worked hard but are still having fun. It isn't a job. Someday they will look back and have this great story about something they did when they were 12, but it won't be who they are. I love the research the announcers have on the kids -- favorite players, favorite actors, favorite school subject. Next year I would love to go see Christian play in Williamsport, but really, I'd rather see him play with his friends at home. They grow up too fast as it is.
March Madness is sort of the same thing. Of course there are guys playing who use this as their tryout for the NBA. Those guys are the reason I usually want to change the channel. I watch for the seniors who have never played on tv before, but are getting a shot at the spotlight. They don't even get 15 minutes of fame -- it's more like 15 seconds. They'll go on to be hedge fund managers or dentists who just happen to be really tall.
In a season of scandals, the worst thing that happened in hockey this summer was Eric Staal's bachelor party. A bunch of farm kids getting drunk, being loud and yelling at cars at 4 in the morning (the horror!). This isn't a story about entitled rich brats -- it's just boys being boys and I'm totally OK with it. It sounds like the worst crime committed was that horrible shirt Jordan is wearing in his mug shot. (Seriously, it's like he dressed for jail before the party even started.)
Anyone who has been here before knows I unabashedly love hockey. There is no room for ego on a hockey team. Sure, there are superstars scattered across the league, but only a few are household names. Every guy on the ice is there to support every other one -- there really isn't room for the kind of players you see in football or basketball. At the end of every playoff series, both teams live up to shake hands - no one leaves until it's over. In other sports, the team that loses runs for the locker room (to hide their tears?). Training camp is only a few days away. I can hardly wait.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Worlds Apart (Separate Ways)
A few things to preface tonight's story:
When out drinking with my friends in college I almost always drove. I had a friend killed by a drunk driver in high school and don't like to be at the mercy of other people's sobriety.
One of the "requirements" for going to school in the Bay Area is that you must develop an affinity for Journey and Fleetwood Mac.
When I was at college in Sonoma there was a group of polysci professors that gave a holiday party every year...
I only remember going to the big shin-dig once, my first year there. I drove a group of friends out to a house somewhere out in country near Sebastopol and it felt like we were out in the middle of nowhere. I had a huge crush on one of the guys in the car, but it was months (years) until that was sorted out. We drove over the river and through the woods, over the hills and around the bend through a pitch black, crystal-clear frozen night. I know there was drinking both before and during the party and one of the guys in the car (not my crush, maybe his name was Todd?) was singing at the top of his lungs with the windows opened as we sped back to town. He was sitting directly behind me in the back seat, jabbing me in the head with his finger while I drove as he sang...."If - he - e - ver - hurts - you - true - love - won't - de - sert - you - You - know - I - still - love - you...." I know this was the ramblings of a drunk kid but for some reason I always imagined he was really saying those words to me (really, he couldn't have been). It's 13 years later and I still think of that night every time I hear that song. So funny how those things stick.
When out drinking with my friends in college I almost always drove. I had a friend killed by a drunk driver in high school and don't like to be at the mercy of other people's sobriety.
One of the "requirements" for going to school in the Bay Area is that you must develop an affinity for Journey and Fleetwood Mac.
When I was at college in Sonoma there was a group of polysci professors that gave a holiday party every year...
I only remember going to the big shin-dig once, my first year there. I drove a group of friends out to a house somewhere out in country near Sebastopol and it felt like we were out in the middle of nowhere. I had a huge crush on one of the guys in the car, but it was months (years) until that was sorted out. We drove over the river and through the woods, over the hills and around the bend through a pitch black, crystal-clear frozen night. I know there was drinking both before and during the party and one of the guys in the car (not my crush, maybe his name was Todd?) was singing at the top of his lungs with the windows opened as we sped back to town. He was sitting directly behind me in the back seat, jabbing me in the head with his finger while I drove as he sang...."If - he - e - ver - hurts - you - true - love - won't - de - sert - you - You - know - I - still - love - you...." I know this was the ramblings of a drunk kid but for some reason I always imagined he was really saying those words to me (really, he couldn't have been). It's 13 years later and I still think of that night every time I hear that song. So funny how those things stick.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Girl Can't Help It
Zoey seems to be taking my "job" as neighborhood watch block captain quite seriously. I moved the guest bed last weekend and this has become her permanent post. I'm sure she'll let me know if she sees anything unusual out there.
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