Oh, Columbus!

Sorry, I couldn't resist! They used to be so pretty and it's really a lot better to think about this when you are heading to Columbus. I actually hadn't visited our fine capital in years and I haven't missed much. The only thing separating Columbus from Dayton or Toledo is Nationwide Arena and that only counts when the Wings are in town and the Wings are in town. As are the Seventh Day Adventist Youth Prayer Group, some Pharmacists for a convention, and assorted people wearing chaps, boots, and spurs and they are all staying with us at the Crowne Plaza. Before you ask, no one including hotel staff, know why the cowboys and cowgirls are here or why they are walking around wearing spurs. I've spent enough time in Vegas with the National Rodeo to know that you don't walk the streets or hang out in hotel lobby bars wearing spurs. But enough of them.

Once we check in and determine that Lauren's camera's batteries are toast, we head to the closest eatery and watering hole, a Max & Erma's. Yum. It brings back so many memories of delayed flights in so many airports but it's got food and brew. Our waitress arrives, breathless even though she only has two tables and we are one of them, and proceeds to tell us something. We attempt to ask what's on tap but are directed to the menu. We order and determine that we are either complete heels because she is hearing impaired or her comprehension is limited to 240 characters and emoticons. I quickly learned that I should simply point to my pint glass when I need another.

At this point, it is late enough to head to another bar adjacent to the Arena. Since there is also a good chance that we might be able to more effectively communicate with a different server, we haul ass on over there. It's a decent place filled with Wings fans. I grab a Guinness and Lauren a Stella(!) and sit in the brisk and breezy sunshine to people watch and count the blue 61 jerseys. There are actually a lot more red jerseys. I spot 5, 40, 93, 96, 30 (yes, some guy still wears it proudly), 19, 14, and a 26 (she got the nod as the most original Wings fan) and I determine it's 1/3 to 1/2 Wings fans. There are a couple of Boehner orange, fake nailed, poofy haired bimbos in really tight Wings shirts, leather jackets, and a sign. At this point, I just want in!

We enter. It's a nice place but as we will find out later, there are no vendors in the stands! WTF? I stop and get a draught (you have to spell it that way when it's Guinness) Guinness and the lady cards me. WTF? As we make our way to out seats, we pass the nasty Civil War-ish cannon (which they will happily not be able to fire) and learn from a confused usher that we are in the BJ's end and that means we get the Wings attacking in the 1st and the 3rd. Plus, we are in 117, row K so the seats are awesome (thank you Rick!). We head over to the Wings end for the pregame skate and get almost to the glass (never underestimate the power of the man-crush).

*** Intermission ***

A couple of Hot Kronners....

Pavs & Z

Rafs, Cleary & Bert (for Lauren) - look at the glass, there are the bimbos and no one notices them! We Love Our Wings "Hot"? Seriously? That is the best they could do? I bet they work at Hooters!


Fil (Once the apple of Lauren'e eye, she now only has um, eyes for Lils and Bert!)


Oz (who) and Helmer (for Susan) -

Finally, The Perfect Human

***End of Intermission***

After the skate, we head to the merch booth to buy some things for Lauren's nieces. Unfortunately, this must be BJ attire but we find some decent stuff anyway. It's the last game of their season and fan appreciation night and everything is 20% off. I manage to not speak with my outside voice and we head to our seats. We are in a BJ heavy section. They announce the sell out and then thank the Wings fans (sad). I have a really nice picture from the anthem (no, my hand was not over my heart) but someone's big head is in it so I won't post it here (maybe later as I am finding this interface slightly annoying). I say, "Drop the puck bitches!" and they do.

Rather than a full game recap (0-0 tie that goes to a shoot out despite 45 or so shots on goal by the Wings), I shall just give you some highlights.

• First period, the Wings do a decent job on the attack so we see a lot of them. Second period, classic Wings "suck" and they do a decent job of killing penalties so we see a lot of them. Third period, the Wings do an amazing job on the attack so we see a ton of them.

• The only time the Jackets fans muster up the energy for a "Let's go Jackets" chant, it is to drown out the "Let's go Wings" chant. I then insert other items of clothing to further annoy my section mates. "Let's go Trousers" becomes my favorite.

• During the second period, the BJs almost score but the goal hits the crossbar. A guy behind me (no, not the dude who yelled "yeah baby" in a Dick Vitale/Austin Powers kind of way all game long) said, "Oh, man, they hit the railing!".

• At one point in the third period, Helm is taken down and a ref calls for a penalty shot. Helm isn't real good at finishing on the break-away so I expect him not to score and he doesn't. A 20-something guy two rows ahead of me takes this moment to display his anger management issues by giving Helm the violently thrusting double-bird. He scares me.

• Two octopi make it to the ice at our end, one cooked and one raw. No one around me understands the reference. In fact, the screaming "Jackets" banshee next to me asks me if "my team is the only one that does this". Argh!

I hate shoot outs because we always lose. I hate them even more when the reason for the shoot out is the play of the opposing goalie so obviously we are going to lose. Then an amazing thing happens, we win. Since the Wings are shooting in our end (that sounds dirty and I like it), it's awesome. I can actually see the look on their faces when they shoot. First up was Pavs. He has the face of an angel and scores a lovely goal. I have faith. Corn fed Rick Nash then deposits one in the Wings goal. I no longer have faith. J Willy then goes for the Wings. There is no look on his face and the shot attempt is lame. I think Commodore and his ginger-fro may have gone next, I don't remember. The BJs don't score. Next up, Kronner! Yes, Babs and I think alike. Nice try but no dice. I know that we have now lost but no, the BJs don't score. So, Bert is up. Now, this is a magical moment. Time just about stands still. I know there are a lot of Bert haters out there but I am not one of them and standing next to me is Bert's newest and most devoted fan, Lauren. As if sensing her pure new found love, he charges (well not really it was like a slow-motion charge) in towards the goal. A champion on skates. Lauren waves her scarf and holds her breath (okay, I made that up). We can see his face and he's wearing a devilishly twisted grin, nay, a shit-eating grin. As he approaches Mason (or "Mase" if you are a hip BJ fan) in net, the grin turns into some kind of Dracula-voodoo stare and he does this strange wiggle and then lifts the puck up and over "Mase" and into the net. Mesmerizing! I fully expect Howie to give up the next shot but he doesn't and we win. I almost need a cigarette.

We ended up in the hotel bar with the be-spurred cowboys and cowgirls and some dudes who were later accosted in a cheesy porn movie style way by some young dude in a teal and black plaid shirt. He was later collected by a guy in a Red Wings cap. Odd. We fall asleep to the less than angelic sounds of our 7th Day Adventists not praying in the hallway and get out of Dodge as soon as possible (i.e. as soon as we could ply the garage ticket out of the dashboard with loaned scissors from Apu)!