I’m Still Waiting on that Autograph
After the Red Wings game, I had it in my head that I needed an autograph from Zetterberg for my jersey. Unfortunately I couldn’t get to the hockey game early since I was working, so I planned on catching him after the game.
I took my time getting out of my seat following the game so that the Red Wings would have their chance to shower and get dressed and whatnot and I could catch them on their way out. I walked slowly around the Xcel Energy Center, hunting for the locker room exits so that I could “accidentally” run into them as they left to go to their hotel for the night. I even took a bathroom break to extend the amount of time I was creeping around the Center.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t find their exits, so I asked an employee what my best bet was to find them. She told me that she actually didn’t know where the best spot was to catch the hockey players was because they usually leave after she does. I kind of stood there with a big sad pout on my face, and she told me that, before the game, a lot of the time people will usually stand outside to wait for the visiting hockey team between the Center and the hotel that they usually stay at.
And that is how I learned where hockey players sleep at night.
So I mosied on over to their hotel lobby and I asked the hotel desk clerk if the Red Wings were in fact staying in this hotel and if people ever waited here for them. She told me they weren’t staying there (I think she was lying), and kind of hinted to me that yes, that kind of thing is very much creepy. Against my will, Dan dragged me out of the hotel and back into the skyway so we could walk home — waiting in a hotel lobby for a hockey team is too creepy for him to handle. And I was bitter because I thought that by next year I would be too old to stalk a hockey team.
And that story leads me to my point for this post. Sometimes I forget that I’m only twenty-two years old. Sometimes it slips my mind that I’ve still got a couple of years of good, solid youth to do stupid things without feeling the resonating consequences.
Once in awhile I’ll get caught up in the fact that I don’t have my own little family, my dream job, a business of my own, and a mansion on top of a hill overlooking a city right next to a lake. Sometimes I think it’s too late for me to go back to school for a Masters degree because I’m too old. And sometimes… sometimes… I think I’m failing at life because I don’t own the world.
Newsflash to me: I’m not too old for anything except riding those little people rides at Disney World. Real life is still beginning.
And I am certainly not too old to stalk a hockey team. And I hope that none of said hockey players ever read this because that would just be really embarassing.