The first rule of the Hockey Bus is-im told-You do not talk about the Hockey Bus. But i must.
What happened? Who Knows? Not me. The Hockey bus experiance is something that cannot be explained with the meagre 26 letters of the Alphabet. There is an atmosphere and intensity unparraleled at any other sporting event at Eastern Illinios University, probably the country. The day starts with 30 of the finest stones and finishes with 500 of the finest hangovers. It is what happens in between that people pay their 15 bucks for. The cold bites so the beer arms ebb faster. Once on the bus the atmosphere changes. 500 young minds determined to lose brain cells at every turn. We are in another world now. Even the driver is from another realm, his grey beard sits magically like Gandalfs, his white hair looks lonely without the wizard’s hat that surely resides upon it most days. The keystone in his hand looks equally at home.
The first rest stop is a relief to all that didn’t resort to a cup on the bus. A swarm of buzzing students overruns the facility,bewildered civilians take refuge from the chaos. Shrill cries punctuate the air and dancing frat kids warm the soul. Desperate metaphors fill the blog.
Finally the buses pull up to the Danville ice rink, and for the second time a wave of students breaks upon the outside world.
And the game begins.
People scream in support and heckle the opponents. Eastern missed a penalty in the game but they finally got it right in overtime with a great winning goal. This goal was greeted with rapturous applause because we had won, but mainly because the 500 hangovers were kicking in, hard. This is not to say the game was not appreciated because it really was by everyone there, you could feel it. But by overtime the day had been a long one.
The Bus ride home is tough.