On Air

I went to my first hockey game last night.

It was so loud there, with everyone talking to each other or people cheering; collective sighs and boos. The men behind me were talking to the players, almost believing that they could really hear them. And everyone had towels to swing around, and seeing everyone do so all at once was almost surreal. Hockey, I have discovered, is more about showmanship than sportsmanship. Hockey seems to be a game in which fighting is encouraged - other than in boxing, of course. You don't usually see tennis players scrapping with their rackets in hand. More importantly, the fans have the same intensity as the players - one of which I'm sure fuels the other. Never have I seen such loyalty and idolatry as I have when it comes to fans and their respective teams and their game - which seems more painfully North American than it is.

I'm sitting in my kitchen right now, and when I look out my window, I can count six identical windows, all aligned and covered with the same white curtains, on my neighbour's house. They stretch from one side all the way to the other side of the house, and this is peculiar to me. It's so quiet today, both inside and out. My roommate is in his room, asleep. We're both killing time before work. I feel like how I remember feeling when I was a child. This feeling is reminiscent of our family vacations, when we would first arrive and would be sitting in our hotel room itching for something to happen; anticipating what we knew would be in store for us, and being anxious and excited. That is how I am feeling today, but with no excitement; just anxious as all hell and wishing for something to happen.

I'm going to teach myself German and run away to Berlin.

This waiting is killing me.