So I'm standing there at the check-out counter. I hear the woman buying something in the line next to me say she's from Michigan, and for some reason I think anyone from Michigan might be someone I know. "I'm from Michigan too!" I say, excited. She gives me a very odd look, and walks away.
I hand the man my license without even thinking. He doesn't realize either, and tries to swipe the card. We both recognize the mistake, and I give him the credit card instead. I can't believe it costs over $1,000 to take some hockey lessons, and skate/shoot around a bit each morning. Ah well.
So the first class starts immediately. We have to walk down this ridiculously long hallway to get there. (which is kinda hard to do when you've put your skates on already, like an ambitious idiot)
Some others arrive while we've begun our skatin' around time. Getting the feel for the ice. Pretending I've got a puck on my stick. Trying to impress the old guys. Someone dumps a few pucks on the ice, and we all begin practicing weaving between invisible players. I lose control of the puck a couple times, but for the most part I was in rare form.
Finally, we all gather as one of the oldest guys there starts to tell us stories about his old "hockey days". We line up, and there are window panes in front of us. The warm-up? Shoot the puck. Break some glass. We watched down the line as others began their turns.
I looked up to see the person standing right next to me prepare for his shot. He looked nervous. "Poor guy", I thought to myself. Everyone is watching him. He makes a soft putting motion like he's on the green, a few feet from the hole. The puck glides slowly across the ice and barely taps the bottom of the window. He puts his head down, obviously feeling defeated.
I took a quick slap shot, smashing my window pane to bits before skating away towards the next exercise.
As I brushed my teeth this morning, I thought it was great that even my sub-conscious makes fun of Sidney Crosby. :)
A Song For the Lent Season
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