What the puck?

i know nothing about hockey, or ice hockey as only the English call it. But I know that the guy winning the interval competition shouldn’t really be scoring more goals than the home team. In fairness, I should have warned the Vancouver Canucks that I was coming. Whenever I casually book a ticket for any sports event, the side I’m meant to be supporting invariably loses.

Though the performance doesn’t put off the midweek crowd, the Canucks really do suck. For the first period, the certainly have the possession but lack the ability to finish it off and score. That is literally all I can make of the rules. Apart from a bit of fighting thrown in for good measure.

But despite the score, this is still a national institution. The loud, young French speaking (shouting) woman to my left ensures that spirits are kept high, while the bored blonde to my right barely says anything for the whole game, including an apology for kicking over my $16 beer when I pop to the bathroom. (Goose Island IPA, imported but still way overpriced).

Another institution in this town is the Railway Club. The guidebook promises that I’ll feel at home immediately in this friendly locals’ bar. Sadly it s closed, with the Jazz band Imwas looking forward to seeing decamped elsewhere. Without the actual guidebook with me, I end up in the Morrissey Bar.

Disappointingly, this isn’t a tribute venue to the Smiths frontman, but it does have a warming fore and bicycles on the ceiling. You know, that whole fire/bike connection? No? Never mind – it’s still a great place to kick back and relax.

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