There was an odd guy sitting two seats to my right at the game last night who drove me batty. He was like a cross between Gilbert Gottfried and The Riddler, chattering away loudly and then laughing maniacally at his own imagined jokes. He also kept saying, "Way to forecheck, Big Red!" at utterly odd moments, mostly when there was no forechecking going on, or when Cornell didn't even have the puck.
Two nights in a row, the double overtime meant Kilpatrick's Publick House had "closed" their kitchen for the night. On Friday, we got to order from their late-night menu, i.e. the kitchen isn't really closed. Underdone chicken wings and teensy, not hot, provolone wedges were pretty unsatisfying. The beer was good, though, and I was pleased to see they'd lowered the price a bit. Anne and Arthur and I closed the place, and got to hang out a bit with an old friend who beeeej and I went to high school with, and who's been in town for years. Chris and his friends Molly and Mike were at the hotel for the Bangs Ambulance banquet, and were fun to chat with. Chris showed me pictures of his kids; I haven't seen Victoria since she was a little kid, and she's 12. Yeesh. He also has a three-year-old son. Funky!
So, last night after the game, after willdevine txt'd me from across the rink to lament that we were again going to miss the regular menu at Kilpatrick's, a bunch of us ended up at Maxie's Supper Club. Good Cajun popcorn (fried crawfish bites) and andouille sausage po'boy. :-)