Adventures in Playoff Hockey

I spent the entire day on Saturday walking around the city. Annette and I did some shopping and just reveled in the fact that we didn't need heavy coats to tolerate being outside. After walking over to the Hynes Convention Center, we walked back to North Station to take in the Bruins game.

We ended up at Porter's and grabbed a seat at the bar to watch the Bruins on one screen and the Red Sox on the other. At first, hardcore hockey fans had a few pre-game beers but the crowd thinned out as it got closer to the puck drop.

As we ate our food, the Bruins fell behind and an older guy sat down next to me. He was dressed in a Red Sox windbreaker, and loudly ordered a beer from the distracted bartender.

"Do you girls need a drink?" He asked us. "You need a drink. Get these girls a drink," he said, slapping his money down on the bar. We thanked him and turned back to our food.

"I just left the Red Sox game," he explained, slurring his words as he sipped his beer. "I was freezing my ass off. Now I have to find my car. It's somewhere over here."

We nodded, watching the Bruins' futile attempts at scoring.

"The Bruins are going to win this game," he slurred, patting my arm.

I was just about to chastise him for jinxing it, but then the black and gold did score. The bar went nuts, largely for the benefit of the Channel 7 cameras that were filming for the 11 o'clock news. He gave Annette and I high-fives.

"You girls like to party. I can tell," he slurred. "If you want to do a shot, go ahead. It's on me."

Annette is getting over the death flu and I wasn't in the mood to be rip-roaring drunk with a bunch of volatile hockey fans, so we turned down his offer. He chatted with us about his jobs and the steak he'd had for lunch, while repeating his offer for drinks.

After the Canadiens scored shortly after the Bruins broke ahead, the mood in the bar darkened. But our new pal declared the Bruins were going to win.

As soon as he said it, they did it.

Shortly after what proved to be the game-winner, our drunk old guy left the bar. I hope he didn't find his car for the safety of himself and others, but I do wish we'd seen him when we were watching Game 7.