To punish myself for sucking at life this month, I am going to share one of the most unflattering hockey tales about moi. You thought shouting, "Evan Lindsay, Don't you dare!" from the stands was humiliating? Well this story takes the cake.
As
you may recall from my post about the moment we knew it was over, our last year
in the hockey world was a complete and utter mess. You may recall that Ev was
fired from his job in Nottingham, England, resulting in a period of time in
which we sat in Saskatchewan waiting for his agent to find us a suitable team
to finish off the hockey season. You then heard how Ev signed a contract with
the Pensacola Ice Pilots. What you didn’t hear was what happened in between
those two events. What you didn’t hear was the story of how my own mother and
husband completely (temporarily) lost respect for me as a human being. What you
didn’t hear was the story of New Year’s 2006.
The
plan was made. We would be departing for Pensacola on New Year’s Day. It would
take us approximately 4 days to drive there, so we needed to get up at a decent
hour and get a good start on our next adventure. We decided to ring in the new
year at Rick’s Lounge, Candle Lake. If you haven’t heard of or been to Rick’s
Lounge, you have missed out on an epic experience. I waitressed at Rick’s
Lounge throughout University. I don’t recall a whole lot about the experience,
given that Rick’s motto is: “Nobody Likes you Sober.” I took his motto
literally and ran with it throughout University. Which is fine…when you’re 21
years old and have the ability to bounce back. Not so fine if you’re nearing
30 and have a 4 day drive ahead of you.
To
be completely fair, I had suffered from mega stress and had dropped 10 pounds.
I had spent days crying in my room. I was depressed. I was poised for a nasty
drunk. Once that first vodka-soda touched my lips, there was no turning back.
Suddenly, I was fun again! I was confident! I was hilarious! Everyone looooved me! I was doomed. I
don’t recall much of New Years Eve 2006, but I have seen photos. Photos of
Christmas tree balls tied around my waste. Photos of suspect headstands on the
pool table. Photos of my red drunken eyes googly and unfocused whilst
fist-pumping enthusiastically on the dance floor. Apparently, it was an
entertaining evening for anyone who had the opportunity to party with me.
 |
| Festive Balls |
 |
| You love me now...wait until morning |
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| Pool Table Headstand. You will regret this tomorrow when your brain matter starts spilling out of your head. |
I
awoke the next morning to Ev gently pushing on my shoulder. My head was
throbbing. The room was spinning. My mouth was furry. My stomach churned. Where
was I? How did I get to this state? Who is this strange man pushing on my
shoulder?
“Wake
up, Kirst. We have to get moving”
Wha?
It
suddenly occurred to me that we were moving to Florida. Today. Now. As I
attempted to get out of bed, I became acutely aware that it was imperative that all 4 limbs be touching the floor in order to safely transport myself to the
washroom. I recovered bits of green felt out of my hair as I held my head in
agony (and to prevent brain matter from spilling to the floor). Damn, I was
doing headstands on the pool table last night, wasn’t I?
Quickly
losing patience with the speed of my movement, Ev irritatingly asked, “Can I
get you anything?”
My
eyeballs ached as I attempted to look up at him from all fours.
I
hoarsely whispered, “Water.” My vocal cords were in agony.
Upon
guzzling 2 glasses of water (Best. Water. Ever), I painfully climbed back into
bed. I was physically unable to do this. I just needed 10 more minutes.
2
hours later, I awoke to my mom’s stern voice, “Kirst, you have to get up.
Evan’s packing the jeep. You need to help him.”
“Moooooooooommmmmm,”
I whailed, “I can’t. It hurts.” It physically hurt to breathe.
“What
do you need?” she replied sharply.
“Pizza.”
“Good
gawd, girl. “
Half
an hour later I awoke to the smell of pizza sauce and my obviously irritated
mom shaking me awake.
“Eat
this and then get up! You need to help. Poor Evan is packing the jeep all by
himself. Get yourself together!”
I
could see her lips moving but all I could hear was this rhythmic pounding in
head. I opened my mouth to request
that she please stop yelling, but nothing would come out. Pizza. Pizza would
make things better. As I took the package from her, I realized that she had
brought me a pizza sub. Oh dear.
“No
sub. I said pizza, mom.”
The
thought of that pre-packaged sub and that giant white bun made my stomach
churn. I considered running to the bathroom to throw up; however, aware that I
was currently mobilizing on all fours, I knew that I would never make it. I
swallowed my thick saliva effortfully.
I
was well aware that my behavior would certainly win me the worst wife and
daughter of the year award. I was well aware that Evan and my own mother were
incredibly annoyed and disappointed with me...and contemplating strangling me. I was well aware that this
horrific pain was self-induced. Yet, there was nothing I could do. I was
physically unable to get out of bed.
Finally
around noon, after my mom helped Evan pack the Jeep (I could hear her
apologizing for my horrible behavior the whole time – poor mom must have felt
personally responsible for having any part in creating me). My mom stormed up
the stairs to my bedroom, threw the covers off of me, and began putting my
pants on.
The
horror. I began to actually fear my mother as she forcefully shoved a t-shirt
over my head and handed me my toothbrush. As I brushed my teeth (ouch, my teeth
hurt too), I silently pleaded to the alcohol gods, “I promise if you help me
get out of bed and into the jeep, I will never ever drink again.”
With
the help of my mom, I somehow transferred from the bed to the jeep. Evan
wouldn’t even look at me. He was angry. In fact, this story STILL makes him angry (I can't say that I blame him). I’m quite certain I heard him chanting,
“I love her. I love her. I love her. I just don’t like her very much right
now.”
Mom
buckled me in, kissed me on the cheek, handed me the horrible sub, wiped the
sweat off her brow and hollered, “I love you. Have a good trip! See you in 4 months.” As she slammed
the door shut, she muttered under her breath, “What a train wreck.”
I was such an asshole. Evan and Mom: please accept this as my public apology for my deplorable behavior on that day. Love you!
I was such an asshole. Evan and Mom: please accept this as my public apology for my deplorable behavior on that day. Love you!
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