The Normand
by Nic Olson
I was worried I wouldn’t fit in. I don’t speak French, I don’t like wine, I don’t dress well, I don’t wear boots, I don’t eat much cheese. But..
I am sitting alone at a full pub 4 blocks from my house, surrounded by the fans of the team that made the sport great, cheering as loud as I can and my voice is still drowned out by the masses. I am high fiving strangers. I’m in the heart of it all. So…
I could care less.
Saturday it becomes real. Tangible. The Bell Centre, alone again, doing what matters: living the dream.
more like a nightmare, however at least you didnt move to toronto, to cheer on kessel
2e
did you watch the ottawa montreal game lastnight? ha
what? you’re not a hipster yet? come on. get on it.
jealous