When in Vancouver root for the Blackhawks

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My interest in hockey is on par with wanting a yeast infection. But I find myself in Vancouver the same time as the Chicago Blackhawks are battling against the Canucks for the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

It was hard finding any watering hole that was not showing the game thus putting a damper on my appetite for an afternoon cocktail. (Plus drinks are a bit costly here. Canadian prices are a trip + tax!) Eventually my thirst for the elixir vitae won out and I left the Same Sun Hostel in search of a less rowdy lot of drinking fans. It was the third quarter, which I would soon learn represents the final quarter in the sport. Score was tied 2:2.

Still what cared I for the game? Hungrily sipping my glass of wine (Gato Negro, Cabernet Sauvignon) and reading The Life of Pi I was content to be the oddball at the bar with a book. I was right: the crowd was a less rowdy one...more semi-posh, as it were. Then a red jersey scored another point and, unthinkingly, my fist pumped the air, Yes! Suddenly poor little Pi on his makeshift raft was old news. Then from a far wall of the rink the puck again soared through space and squarely into the Canuck's net. Chicago 4:Vancouver 2. The less rowdy semi-posh crowd groaned their dissatisfaction at the inevitable. Only seconds remained and the home team would need more than that to taste victory tonight. Go, Chicago, go! I had no idea hockey could be so entertaining.