Good Seat, Bad Seat

Saturday night I took my little boy to see the Calgary Hitmen play. He was very excited, especially since our tickets were for 2 rows away from the ice surface. I was pretty excited too, I'm not going to lie. I have loved going to hockey games since I was a little girl watching my older brother play. I played too, but I lack basic co-ordination skills, so I find it much more intriguing to watch people who possess real athletic skill.

During the twenty minute trip to the saddledome, my son berated me with a constant stream of requests for various "hockey game snacks". Following each request with, "Grampy always buys those for me when he takes me to hockey games." Even though I have lived here now for 4 years, I still have trouble remembering where I need to go, what turns I need to make, and what lane I need to be in. So at every pause where I suspect he is waiting on some form of verbal cue that I'm listening, I smile and say "Mm, hmm." Point of advice for anyone who will have children someday, never EVER agree to anything while you are distracted.

Immediately upon entering the Saddledome, my son ushers me to the concession stand and tells the sweet old lady working there that he will have a large coke, a regular popcorn, a bag of salt & vinegar chips, and a package of mini donuts. After which he waves in my general direction and says "And whatever she wants." I decided that instead of having him announce to the entire building that I never listen to him, we would share.

So, with my arms loaded with various over priced snacks, we make our way precariously down the stairs to our seats. I am concentrating so hard on not falling down, running into the person in front of me, or dropping everything into some one's lap, that I don't realize there is already someone sitting there and I almost sit on them. Embarrassed, I agree to trade seats with them so that they can sit closer to their friends in the next row. At first, this deal seems to be working out great. The game starts, I begin trying to stuff as much of the junk food into my mouth as possible in the hope that my son will not get the opportunity to eat so much he pukes. 7 minutes into the first period, the people in the seats beside me arrive.

The smell of booze. It was so strong, I was sure it was seeping into my bloodstream just from being near it. The gentleman emanating this odour sat quietly beside me. He didn't look as drunk as he smelled, so I figured I would just breathe through my mouth and ignore him. Then, as I turned my head, another smell hit me. Vomit. Who in their right mind goes out in public smelling like vomit? The smell lingered the entire game. Although, the smell of the booze was strong enough I was only catching whiffs of the vomit smell and by the end of the game, I'm pretty sure I was drunk.

I am still deciding whether I would call them good seats or bad seats.