Running Diary: Pens Lose Game 6
Last night, a buddy from work and I decided to go out for the Pens/Habs game. Honestly, I don’t know how I made it in today. I tried to keep the Twitter feed updated, but that turned into more of an update on what I was drinking and not what happened. Apologies. Here is what transpired with approximate times (to the best of my recollection)(Twitter updates in parentheses):
7:15ish: We hop into a cab after leaving work to get to the bar quicker. While in the cab, the Habs score to make it 1-0. What the fuck!? We’re missing the game! (Let the diary begin: heading to southside bars for Pens/Habs Game 6! Let’s go Pens!)
7:25ish: We get to the bar right after Crosby ties it up on the power play. Goal! (Crosby goal! $.87 drafts! Thank you!) The bar was surprisingly packed for a Monday night. Especially with all the bandwagon fans here, I didn’t expect so many to be out on a cold night. We head to the upstairs section and luck into an open table as a couple of people leave. (Bucket of beers ordered…let’s get going)
7:50ish: Intermission, game tied 1-1. Nothing much going on yet. We continue to get our bearings since we walked in only halfway through the first period. We were locked into the game and bullshit about work during the break. Decide to get a jump on things. Should we eat dinner to prepare for a night of drinking? Of course not. (Intermission Vegas bombs…can’t go wrong with that)
8:10ish: GOAL! Kris Letang squeezes a weak ass shot past Halak on the power play. I’m not complaining! Pens up 2-1. (Tanger goal! Cherry bomb time!) The bar does specials for each Penguins goal if you feel the need to call me a pussy for doing cherry bombs. If you feel like calling me a pussy for any other reason though, it would be understood.
8:20ish: Cammalleri scores for the Habs to tie it up, 2-2. (Fuck you Cameltoe…) Just two and half minutes later, Spacek blasts one from the point. Habs lead 3-2. Frustration sets in.
8:30ish: (Another bucket of beers…Go Pens!) I’m beginning to eye up some of the local talent. A couple of girls at the table to our left keep looking over our way. Sorry ladies, the Pens are on. I’ll talk to you later.
8:40ish: Intermission, Habs up 3-2. Time to get more shots. I tell the waitress, Laura, that I need shots on the house. She laughs and I pay thinking nothing of it. I head back to my table and then the owner brings over free shots. Very classy move. I’m in there a lot and customer service always goes a long way. (Intermission Vegas bombs…and the owner just gave us free cherry bombs…it’s good to know people…) Wow, I was using way too many ellipses last night.
9:15ish: Habs score, up 4-2. Lots of chances in the period with a couple of penalty kills.
9:35ish: Pens get a goal back by Guerin. We momentarily celebrate and hold out false hope for the rest of the period. Breaths are held and the final buzzer goes off. Devestation. We order a couple more beers. We stay defeated for only a few minutes. It was one game. It’s not like we’re out of the playoffs, but it would have been nice to wrap it up.
10:00ish: Time to turn the night around. We continue slamming beers and I approach the girls that were eyeing us up earlier in the evening. I introduce my friend and we start bullshitting. They happen to go to the same school that I went to. It was really nice of them to inadvertently remind me of how old I am. After about 15 minutes of talking, they head out to another bar. They didn’t give me the official invite so I wasn’t about to follow them there. That’s a Sergio move…
10:30ish: The waitress informs us that they are closing the upstairs section. We close out our tab and figure it’s a good time to head to another bar. We head across the street, where we get more beers. We walk around the bar to check out the ‘mobile art’. Not much going on. I order a vodka and Red Bull. There weren’t that many people out anymore so we go upstairs and play a couple games of darts while eyeing any incoming talent.
11:15ish: Things are starting to get blurry. No dinner, half a pack of smokes gone, and by my count we’re about 4-5 shots and 8-9 drinks deep. We head back downstairs, where I see a guy and girl I went to high school with. And the girl is looking real good. Short, blonde, nice tits. The Hoss would tell you that those type of girls are “right in my wheelhouse.” We start talking about what we’ve been doing lately and I’m flirting hard-core. She seems to be eating it up.
Midnightish: After a good forty-five minutes of bullshitting and drinking, I ask her to go out with me this weekend. She tells me that she’s “kind of seeing someone, but that he’s not her boyfriend.” She should have just said, “I’m going to act like a challenge, but I’ll probably end up sleeping with you.” I tell her to get her phone out and we exchange numbers. Flirting continues until I decide that I have to head home. The night has shipped and I’m gone.
12:30ish: I part ways with my co-worker and start walking. I figure that if I see a cab, I’ll hail it down. I roll into a gas station to get another pack of cigarettes and beef jerky. Of course, I don’t see a cab and am relegated to walking the whole way. I send out some drunk texts and even set up a happy hour with another girl for later this week. Somehow I was smart enough not to text my usual hookups, because, well, I probably would’ve passed out by the time they got over.
1:00am: Finally home. For some reason I stop in my lobby and get my mail. I head upstairs fairly banged up still and pass out wondering if Wednesday’s Game 7 will be any different. Not the most exciting night by any means, but always a good time.
