|Game Day selfie: "Duck Lips"|
Last night I went out with this guy I met on Twitter. We've been following each other for awhile, and text every now and again. He calls me his "Twitter Crush" and I think it's cute.
Anyway, a little while ago he asked me if I wanted to go to a hockey game with him, and I said yes.
“OK,” I thought, “What the heck…”
To be honest, I didn't really believe that he was going to follow through on our hockey date; tickets are expensive and hard to come by, I didn't think that he would take me if he got his hands on a set. But, I figured, there was no harm in just going with it. Maybe he was really going to take me...
Like anyone else who follows me on Twitter, the guy knows how much I love Claude Noel, the head coach of the Winnipeg Jets. I don't exactly remember how it happened, but the guy texts me a few weeks ago to tell me that he sort of knows the coach, and that he was going to text him and ask if we could meet him after the game.
“Suuuuuuure,” I thought. "You know the coach. Right."
But again, I went with it. Maybe he really did know the coach...
It's not that I thought this guy was a complete liar, he actually seemed really nice and somewhat genuine. I suppose I'm one of those skeptical people who takes everything people say with a grain, maybe a scoop, of salt.
Anyway, game day comes and the guy drives into the city from his home, a few hours away. We meet at the City Place Mall, in front of Boston Pizza at 6 p.m. -- It's always interesting meeting Twitter people in real life; it's different than online dating, because you've conversed with these people in real time and with others... Hard to explain. I suppose it's almost just more comfortable for me to meet people from Twitter, as opposed to dating websites, in real life.
We start walking to the MTS Centre and he tells me the coach’s wife called him while he was driving to tell him what section she was sitting in, and that she would meet us after the game.
|Actual text between me and the guy yesterday|
Just in case though, I told him that I gave all of his information to my sister, in case he really is a serial killer and he gets any bright ideas.
"She'll find you," I warned him.
The guy was a good sport about my threats and accusations.
We did all the traditional Jets games things; spent a lot of money on concessions, took selfies, walked around the concourse, bought a 50/50 ticket (and pinky swore to get married if we won. Why not, we only met a few hours ago, it would be a fun way to cap off the night! haha), we cheered and chanted and made friends with all the people around us.
It was a good time.
The game went into overtime, followed by a shootout. The Jets pull out a win, and it’s literally the best night ever.
“OK, Lynda says that she’s wearing a grey sweater and that she’ll be waiting for us at the front doors by the elevators," he says to me.
Still skeptical, we push through the throngs of people, head down to the main floor, and make a run for the coveted meeting spot. When we walk in, my eyes dart around the room, and low and behold I see a woman in a grey sweater waiting by the elevator, looking down at her phone.
Could it be?
Are we really going to meet the coach?
We walk up to the woman and introduce ourselves. She is Lynda Noel!
Turns out the guy wasn't lying.
Turns out the guy wasn't lying.
|The hallway to Joyland.|
Right off the bat Lynda was friendly and tells us to follow her. We went through a security guarded door, down a long corridor. She tells us that she's going to take us to the 'Wives Lounge' to wait for Claude to finish his post game interview.
We sat in the Wives Lounge for a few minutes. There were a few other people there (wives and girlfriends I'm assuming) and we watch the post game interviews on a TV mounted to the wall, and we chat.
At this point, though I can't speak for the guy, I'm pretty sure we're both in a weird state of disbelief.
When Claude is done, Lynda takes us to his office.
Before we get there though, Claude Noel comes out and we're all standing in this big corridor area near his office. All around us are the players of both teams packing it in for the day. Mark Stuart was talking to one of the guys from the Lightning, Kane was walking around, Thorburn was leaving, Stamkos was getting on the bus… And then Buff came out and I nearly peed my pants with excitement.
|Me and Buff|
Before I made a complete fool of myself, I asked Lynda if it was OK that I approach him. She said it was, so I walked up to Byfuglien, said something ridiculous and likely non-sensible and then asked him to take a “selfie” with me.
He did, and thus, I can now scratch "selfie with Byfuglien" off my bucketlist.
The guy brought the coach some fishing hooks, and they instantly started talking about fishing. Buff soon joined in on the conversation, and I just stood there, in awe, like a star-struck idiot.
Claude Noel took us to his office, then to the Jets locker room, where someone took our picture with my iPhone. He made sure the picture was to our liking, and explained to us that “Nobody steps on the logo” on the centre of the carpet in the room.
As we leave, coach tells the guy that he’ll call him soon to set up a weekend that they can go fishing. I BEG the guy to let me come. He said maybe...
Walking up the stairwell to get out of the MTS Centre we ran into Mike Santorelli, who also took a selfie with me.
It was a super rad night, and probably the best first date ever.
I wonder what we're doing for date number two?
|The guy, me, and Coach Noel in the dressing room.|