7:00: Are we late? How much is admission? Wait… it’s… empty? Frat music fills the air.
7:10: We find our seats. It is not hard, as we’re the only ones here. The gold and blue visiting team can be seen in their dugout(?)
7:15: Our team (blue and gold) appears on the opposite side.
7:17: They start sliding as black Betty plays far too loud.
7:18: #9 (Rochester) hits himself against the wall. It was very loud. Why is the ref so smooth with it? It’s like he’s dancing out there.
7:19: They warm up? Music was cut, and now they’re just playing. The puck is very small, and I cannot see anything. Honestly the best skater is the ref — look at him vibing. Wait… THERE ARE TWO REFS???
7:23: GOAL!!!!! The crowd goes mild as Rochester scores on not Rochester.
There are three refs. Like mitosis, they multiply.
7:24: Hordes of frat men, with flannel everywhere, filter in fashionably late. They sit directly in front of us.
7:27: One of the three refs blew the whistle (again). I’m slowly realizing this sport is boring.
7:29: All of the men were in the corner. It may have been a penalty shot?
7:32: The men wiggle when they wanna go fast. Finally the other team falls while running.
7:39: Something probably happened! The frat boys holler loud and proud.
7:43: I’m officially bored. I’m seeing why Canadians drink so much, ‘cause this is so goddamn boring. My mind wanders to Kim Jong Un. Basketball rules.
7:45: The ref made a bad call. The frat boys exclaimed, “AYY! WOAH!” with arms spread wide. We refuse to interject as we display our journalistic integrity and impartiality.
7:46: The players tumble into each other like long-lost lovers.
7:47: The buzzer buzzes. 3-0 marks the end of the first quarter. Enter the Zamboni. Powered by propane for no reason, she glides over the ice with beauty and grace the likes of which I’ve never seen. The zamboni says Zamboni on the front. Is it a brand name like Kleenex? There’s so much mystery behind her square grill.
8:00: The second quarter starts. The frat boys continue to multiply and begin to fraternize with the security guard. A group of girls joins the frat boys. We are displaced further up the bleachers. The DJ cranks dat Soulja Boy. I’m busy writing my budget for this week.
8:10: The puck is spending more time in the air than on the ice. I understand it’s made of a hard rubber, what if it was softer? I wanna see that bitch bounce.
8:12: These 2010 beats fill the air. The crowd is graced with the first three lines of every banger. Emmely is happy but also cold.
8:16: “I’m blind! I’m deaf! I wanna be a ref!” says the flanneled man, as the ref is trying to figure out if a Rochester player is okay, as his helmet has vanished from his head.
Sean Kingston plays.
8:19: Oh! They switched sides! Neat!
8:22: Bored again. What if two pucks?
8:25: Frat boys yell instructions like it’ll help this Division 3 scrimmage. How much are they being paid? Is this their Saturday night? Are these boys okay? My thought was interrupted by the second buzz of the evening. Halftime once more.
8:30: I’ve learned there’s another period of the game, and I’m bored and this piece is already 600+ words.
