On my love of hockey and my inability to read schedules.

Canucks versus Flames. Sunday evening. One of hockey’s great rivalries and at an earlier start time, so that those of us on the island can partake in the religious fever that is our national pastime. Bonnie got two tickets and I couldn’t say no, when the first person she thought to ask was me. Not that I would of anyways. Come on, it’s hockey. Canucks hockey. It would have been going against my upbringing to say no.

So off to Vancouver I was on Sunday. Met Bonnie downtown and had some food. We then proceeded to bitch about everything and everyone. Say what you will about astrology but Bonnie and I, being two days apart in our birthdays, have pretty much the same views on people. Namely, they piss us off.

The BC Lions were playing in the Western Conference Final, so between the football and hockey games, there were a lot of drunk people downtown. The smell of stale beer on people is always attractive.

Finally, its time for hockey. Bonnie and I head to GM Place and up, up, up into the stands. Luckily, there aren’t any bad seats in GM Place because if there were, we would have been in them. Basically, if we had moved back one row, we would have hit the outer walls. That’s okay. From that angle you can see the whole play rather than just the little bit in front of you.

Yeah, I don’t believe that argument either.

Unfortunately, Ohlund was out because of a slashing incident and subsequent suspension. But that didn’t stop the Canucks from having a good game. You have to love when you teams romps 4-1 over the visitors. The poor girls sitting next to us. Wearing their pretty red Flames jerseys. They were very quiet.

I wasn’t.

Hockey is the excuse to be loud, to yell at the players to skate and pass the goddamn puck, to generally make an ass of yourself.

It was fun.

Finally the game let out and I had missed the 7:30 bus home. No worries, there is one at 10. So, I walked Bonnie to her bus. Got on the skytrain. Got off the skytrain and onto the train going the right direction. Headed for the bus station.

Only, there is no one in the bus station.

So, I frantically searched for a schedule. And there in black and white… the clear absence of the bus I was supposed to take. The one that was clearly marked on the website.

At moments like this, it is perfectly permissible to swear loudly.

It is strange the thoughts that go through your head when you are stranded. The first one was that I could spend the night on the benches at the station, which is okay if you are traveling. I have done that. But seriously, I live here. I don’t have the excuse that I don’t understand the transit system or that I don’t know where the hotels would be. The second thought was to get a hotel. Only then did the third thought come into my head, of calling Bonnie and trying to get to her ferry and crash at her place. But, by that time, there was no way I could make that ferry.

So, I waste time in a crisis. I like to make the situation as bad as humanely possible. It makes a better story.

Bonnie suggests going to Tswassen, taking a ferry to Duke Point at which she could drive out to pick me up. At this point, it was clear that I wasn’t going to make work in the morning. I’m in downtown Vancouver. How do I get to the ferry terminal? Suddenly, I remember that I went to visit Laura at Simon Fraser University about 6 years ago and that I had gone through Scott Road Station. Those words didn’t mean much to me at that point but they registered with the guy wearing the lovely skytrain uniform and thus, I was off into the unknown.

I arrived at Scott Road Station 30 minutes later. Let me say one thing – D-O-D-G-Y! I walked around all the bays trying vainly to find one that said Tswassen. Nadda.

So, I suck up my pride and call Laura. The message of that call was basically HELP! After trying to help me with the bus schedule, we concluded that I couldn’t make it to the ferry in time. Laura wouldn’t hear of me staying outside by myself in Surrey. And if you know anything about the lower mainland, you would agree with her.

“Go to the King George Station, I’ll pick you up there. And stand in a well lit area”.

Honestly, I think my friends think I’m 5 years old sometimes. I did live by myself in a foreign country. I am perfectly capable of standing in a well lit area without someone telling me to. I may be from the island but I ain’t no backwater hick. I think.

Laura picked me up, let me crash at her place and drove me to the ferry at 6 am the next day. By the time I got back to Victoria I could have done a half day but my adventure had killed me. So instead I laid around my apartment.

What a fun day. Shari lost in the big city. Par for the course.

S.