This Is Hockey

Fall is in full swing.  My birthday has passed and Thanksgiving is right around the corner.  If you have gone to the malls, Christmas is barreling down the pike and it is heading straight for us.  But for me, something is still missing from this time of year.  While I still enjoy playing the sport, there is nothing like attending a live NHL hockey game.  The end of the year also culminates with an outdoor game, the NHL’s Winter Classic.  Gary Bettman and greed have taken all that away.

As the NHL has stalled, my own hockey season goes on.  Recently I was at the Rinx in Hauppauge.  I usually get my skates sharpened there before a game.  This night, I accidentally stumbled upon a game.  The Rinx is the home of the Stony Brook Seawolves.  It was Saturday night and a crowd was formed in the adjacent rink.  The Seawolves opponent that night?  The Drexel Dragons.  I watched for a few minutes while my skates were being done.  Forgotten for a moment was the NHL, and I was suddenly transformed back to a simpler time.

It was January of 1985 and I was returning to college in Philadelphia after completing my Co-op assignment in New York.  It had been six months since I had lived on campus, so it was almost like starting over again.  I would be rooming with a friend, a business major, who was not part of the co-op program.  He had been on campus for the fall semester so he would get me up to speed.  My buddy had become friends with several guys on the floor already.  One of them played ice hockey, and said he was the goalie for Drexel’s team.  Drexel has a hockey team?  Who knew?  At the time it was only a club team, but he said they played all the other local colleges that did not have sanctioned college hockey programs.  I asked them where they heck they played, I did not see any arena here at Drexel.  He let us know that they played their home games at University of Penn’s Class of ’23 rink.  He said we should come down and watch.  My friend asked him if anyone actually came down for the games.  The goalie responded, ‘Well, not really…but you can bring beer.”  Sold!

The following week boasted Drexel hockey’s next home game.  It was a Wednesday so our beer supplies were only remnants of the weekend’s indulgence.  The Class of ’23 rink was a bit of a hike, so we couldn’t just walk around with all these loose beers.  We needed something to carry them.  It also had to be something we could dispose of since we were going out afterwards.  We found a large paper bag that had been used to buy groceries the day before.  Perfect.  Going forward this would be our vessel for the cans…simply referred to as “Bag O’Beer”.  My friend and I headed off to Penn.  We were told to follow the “High Line” rail and we would eventually get to the rink.  Its formal name is the West Philadelphia Elevated Branch, although it’s been called the “High Line” for decades.  This elevated route was constructed in the 1930s and no trains had run on it since 1980.  As we passed the last of Drexel’s orange brick buildings we entered into a desolate abandoned area.  It was a no-mans land between the Drexel and U of Penn campuses.  At least we had our beer.  After about a ½ mile we could see lights in the distance.  As we approached the building seemed abandoned, but we could see “Class of ‘23” adorning the one side.  This was the place.  The game had already started.  You could hear the echo of an empty rink.  We settled ourselves on the cold cement stands.  We had our choice of location.  The rink was frigid, so at least the beer would stay cold.  We settled in and watched.  As the game continued, so did our drinking.  Since we seemed to be the only two fans, we made sure our team knew of our presence.  After our goalie friend would make a big save we would cheer even louder.  A raise of his stick towards us showed his appreciation.  Drexel would go on to win the game 5-2.  On the way off the ice our goalie friend came over to thank us for coming down.  Now worries…we were hooked.

The following day my buddy told our tale of the game to the others on our floor.  As the week went by interest grew as the game approached.  The next home game we would be better prepared.  We rallied about a dozen or so guys to come with us…all of us carrying our own “Bag O’Beer”.  After the others attended they began to tell their friends…and so on…you know how it goes.  The crowds at the games slowly began to grow…and the players began to play to the crowd.  It was turning into a mini version of “Slapshot”.  The louder the crowd, the harder the players hit their opponents.  And like the movie, sometimes not within the rules of the game.  Being so close to the ice we were able to verbally abuse opposing players…and refs.  The other team's goalie would be serenaded with “It’s All Your Fault” each time they gave up a goal.  We even brought a makeshift red light to set up behind the other team’s net.  But it was all in good fun.

However the crowds continued to grow and soon kegs replaced the “Bag O’Beer”.  Unfortunately students came for the alcohol and not the event.  Word got out about Drexel’s fans, and opposing teams would bring theirs.  “But tonight they got their fans with them!”  For the most part it remained calm, but it all culminated in March.  The game had been circled for a while.  Drexel vs U of Penn.  We had made their rink rock as our own.  They felt it was time to take it back.  Beer flowed.   Tempers flared…both on and off the ice.  Fights broke out on the ice, but it soon included the fans.  Fans shouted at the players, players responded.  Players with players, fans with players, fans with fans.  My friend and I sat there finishing our beer.  The game was called…we knew the way we came to enjoy the game would be called too.

After that game beer was banned from the arena.  Gone were the kegs and the crowds.  Things would eventually calm down.  The next season my friend and I, and a few select other would return with our “Bag O’Beer” to watch the games.  We made sure this time not to share this information with too many others.  After we graduated, Drexel would move into a more formal collegiate hockey league.  The days of the “Slapshot” goonery dissipated.  Recently the Dragons garnered a lot of attention when they defeated rival Villanova University, 7-3, in the 2012 Crosstown Classic “Battle at the Bank” Jan. 5.  The game was held outdoors at Citizens Bank Park on the same rink where the Philadelphia Flyers and New York Rangers played the 2012 NHL Winter Classic just three days earlier.

Luckily Bettman and the NHL didn’t cancel that one.

On Or Close

Tomorrow LIRR customers can record videotaped comments at two LIRR stations this week about the MTA's proposed fare changes.  All comments will be transcribed and made part of the permanent record for review by the MTA Board.  Unfortunately for them, Ronkonkoma Station was among the two chosen as a location…unfortunately for them, because that is MY train station.  I am less concerned about the fare hike, and my time will be focused on the decades of neglect in upgrading a system that is reminiscent of the 1950’s…and they are held to the standards of that day.  There is a three-minute time limit for each individual's videotaped comments.  Three minutes is not nearly enough.

 

I don’t even know where to begin, so I will start at the beginning.  Growing up in Valley Stream at my Grandparents house was as close to rural as I will ever get.  The 50’x100’ plots were not yet laid out and there was still plenty of free land to roam.  You even heard the rooster’s crow as dawn approached.  Yes, Valley Stream…THAT Valley Stream.  There was a house behind us, but you could barely tell where our property ended and theirs began.  I became close friends with the kid who lived there, as he was only a year older than me.  His Dad, knowing mine was not around, took me under his wing at times…like one of his own.   In the winter he would let his son and I take out his O-scale trains and set them up all along his basement floor.  I am surprised we did not electrocute ourselves, these were vintage 1940’s trains…and safety was not a priority when they were building them.  In the summer, we would head up to Connecticut and the Branford Trolley Museum.  It was a vintage railroad where you could step back in time and ride the rails.  What a great place to go as a kid.  How did my friend’s Dad become such a train aficionado?  He was an LIRR Conductor.

 

It must have been an exciting time to be part of the LIRR.  With each passing year the technology would grow.  As families moved from Brooklyn to Long Island, the railroad expanded to meet the needs of the commuter.  My friend’s Dad had a huge portfolio of pictures showing the evolution of the railroad.  I would spend hours going through each one.  At this time, the big project was elevating the south shore line.  Valley Stream station had already been raised, but the project was scheduled to go all the way to Babylon.  It was 1975 and my friend’s Dad was invited to the ribbon cutting ceremony at the Merrick Station.  All the LIRR bigwigs were there, and also the Mayor of the town.  We all stood on the platform awaiting the ceremonial first train to arrive.  My friend and I went to the very end of the station to be the first to spot it.  As we saw the lights appear down the far end of the track, I ran to tell my friend’s Dad, “The train is coming, the train is coming.”  The following day in the paper, the event was written up in an article in Newsday.  The Mayor proudly describes the day and how the new station was vital to the growing town.  As the ceremony was beginning, the Mayor thought wouldn’t it be nice if someone could make a big deal about the arriving train.  He said as if on queue, a young redheaded freckled kid ran through the crowd shouting, “The train is coming, the train is coming.”  This is the last time I recall any major upgrade to the track line by the LIRR.

 

When the LIRR finished the south shore line project in 1980, one would think they would move on to bigger and better.  They never did.  In 1987 the Main Line was electrified all the way out to Ronkonkoma, but no massive track project was ever to take place again.  They promised a third track on the main line through Nassau.  They promised a SECOND track on the main line through Suffolk.  Promises, promises.  Long Island’s population continued to grow, but the LIRR failed to have any foresight to be able to handle the added traffic.  Or perhaps they just didn’t care.  I think it is a little of both.  I came across an LIRR timetable from 1928 for the Port Washington branch on eBay.  I was surprised to find the same stations listed since I did not know the history of that branch.  What I found out next though, stunned me.  The timetable from station to station was EXACTLY the same.  The same amount of time it took you from Port Washington to Woodside in 1928, is the same time today.  You would think in 80 plus years they might have shaved a minute or two off.  Nope!

 

The Port Washington line is the one line that does not go through Jamaica Station.  You would think that if any line could speed things up it would be that one, since it did not have to perform the “Jamaica Crawl”.  For those of you not familiar, it is the speed at which a train has to go through the Jamaica switches.  The reason?  This nest of track stupidity was designed in 1911…and never changed.  Even if your train does not stop at Jamaica, you still have to go through it.  No express tracks were ever built to speed trains past.  You might have heard the switching system was upgraded a year or so back.  What you might not have heard was that a lightning strike brought down the whole system only a few months later.  Now this was the lever and pulley system that was finally upgraded after 100 years, but the new computer system is still operating the same antiquated switches themselves.  They frequently break down and in cold weather have an issue with freezing.  One cold day a few years back I found out why.  As I was travelling SLOWLY on the Jamaica Crawl, I stared out the window into the abyss.  Much like seeing a gremlin on the wing, I thought my eyes were playing tricks.  Down below on the track, there were flames.  I was ready to flag down a conductor to warm him of the perils that lie ahead.  That was when I noticed ALL the tracks had flames on them. OH MY GOD, this is the deicing system?  Good thing the LIRR doesn’t run an airline!  It was in an article during the big snowstorm in 2009 that the LIRR said their service came to a halt because the system to keep the switches from freezing kept failing.  Of course it did, the wind from the storm must have kept blowing out the flames!  They failed to put THAT in the article.  No one would have believed it.

 

This leads me to my BIGGEST pet peeve about the LIRR.  “We are sorry for the delay, we can’t control the weather.”  Yes, I agree with that.  But what you could have controlled was the years of neglect and not upgrading the system with technologies that CAN handle the weather.  Rain, thunderstorms and snow are nothing new to the Northeast.  I understand when we have a hurricane, a nor’easter, a blizzard…even the tornado that touched down in Queens.  But riders are faced with delays when there are simple weather changes, and the LIRR is quick to use it as an excuse.  It rains.  There are thunderstorms in the summer.  There is snow and cold in the winter.  You don’t need a Farmer’s Almanac to predict these things.

 

All it would take is an organization that cares about its customers and the want to provide a quality service.  Even the Post Office boasts “And neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night, nor the winds of change, nor a nation challenged, will stay us from the swift completion of our appointed rounds.”

 

The LIRR can’t even handle “On or Close”

 

And To The Republic-an For Which It Stands

As many 8 year olds in New York in 1973, I was caught up in the excitement of the Mets World Series.  Although he was at the end of his career, an older Willie Mays was the embodiment of baseball himself.  It seemed like his mere presence would bring New York home the trophy.  It was not to be.  The following year, 1974, I became a Yankee fan.  Much like my baseball beginnings, my Presidential memories begin with a loss.  Watergate was my introduction into Presidential politics as a child.  Nixon, a lifelong politician and the embodiment of the Republican Party fell from grace.  But unlike my abandonment of the Mets, I remained a Republican.  Yes, a Republican.

August 8^th, 1974 President Nixon officially resigned as President of the United States.  This was a big deal.  As a kid, maybe you didn’t realize it…but it was certainly driven home by the adults around you.  Gerald Ford, a man appointed Vice President by Richard Nixon and not voted in, was now our commander in Chief.  President Ford was not known for his brains and mocked over certain “trips” he took.  But as a kid I looked up to him.  I was a Boy Scout and Gerald Ford had achieved the highest rank, being an Eagle Scout and receiving the Distinguished Eagle Scout Award.  In college, he was a star athlete at the University of Michigan.  Ford played center and linebacker for the school's football team and helped the Wolverines to undefeated seasons and national titles in 1932 and 1933.  During 1934, Georgia Tech refused to play against Michigan if a black player named Willis Ward took the field.  The university decided not to play him in the game.  Ford, Ward’s best friend and roommate, reportedly threatened to quit the team in response to the university’s decision.  He eventually stayed on and played in that game only at the urging of Ward himself.  Talk about role models.  Want more?  I got it for you.  Ford was a boy scout, a star football player, in the forefront of civil rights…hmm, what’s left…what did he serve on an aircraft carrier in WWII?  Well, actually he did.  Ford served on the aircraft carrier USS Monterey (CVL-26).  From the ship's commissioning on June 17, 1943, until the end of December 1944, Ford served as the Assistant Navigator, Athletic Officer, and Antiaircraft Battery Officer on board the Monterey.  During that time, the carrier participated in many actions in the Pacific Theater with the Third and Fifth Fleets.  Unfortunately the Monterey’s fate was decided not by enemy action, but by a devastating Typhoon that hit the fleet.  Aircraft and fuel broke loose during the storm and caused uncontrollable fires on board.  Because of the extent of the fires, Admiral Halsey ordered the captain of the Monterey to abandon ship.  Instead the captain ordered Ford to lead a fire brigade below.  After five hours he and his team had put out the fire and saved the ship.  Raise your hand if you knew any of this about Gerald Ford.  Put it down, you’re lying.

Gerald Ford’s time as president would be short.  America was still reeling from the Watergate scandal and the Republicans looked like they would be voted out.  Even though he was only President from 1974 to 1977, Ford signed the Helsinki Accords, marking a move toward détente in the Cold War.  Also, nine months into his presidency, U.S. involvement in Vietnam essentially ended.  However, it was his Presidential pardon of Nixon that would eventually be his undoing.  After narrowly beating Ronald Reagan for the Republican nomination, he lost the presidential election to Democrat Jimmy Carter.  As a kid I was shocked.  How could such an American hero lose out to a peanut farmer…and a Democrat no less!  President Carter seemed to be everything Ford was not.  While he created two new cabinet positions, Department of Education and the Department of Energy, and pursued the Camp David Accords…he would be dogged by the events during his Presidency.  The 1979 energy crisis, the Three Mile Island nuclear accident, the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, United States boycott of the 1980 Summer Olympics in Moscow, the eruption of Mount St. Helens and the one that marked the end of his presidential tenure…the Iran hostage crisis.  President Carter may have been the right man, but it was at the wrong time.  I wondered as a kid how Gerald Ford would have handled the hostage crisis.  I was pretty sure it would not have taken 444 days to get them back.

Gerald Ford faded into history, however the man he barely beat out for the Republican nomination four years earlier was now in the forefront, Ronald Reagan.  America had grown tired of Carter’s diplomacy.  We needed a tough guy and Reagan fit the bill.  Ronald Reagan reminded me a lot of Gerald Ford.  While not a star athlete at a big college, he was a member of the football team, captain of the swim team and student body president for Eureka College in Illinois.  As an actor, he embodied the characters he played on the big screen.  As teenagers, we all hoped he would ride in and save the day for America.  I was excited when Reagan beat Carter in the 1980 Presidential election.  However, my Mom was in tears the next day. She thought Reagan was a warmonger and would have the US, and her son (even though I was only 14), soon going to war.  I always found that ironic.  Reagan not only kept us OUT of war…but he also ended the longest war in America’s history, the Cold War.  Wasn’t the first time…or the last…that Mom was completely off base.

Ronald Reagan got the hostages back from Iran.  At that point he could do no wrong.  The 80’s were marred by nuclear tensions between the US and Russia.  In 1983 the movie, “The Day After”, came out in Hollywood’s atomic version of scared straight.  TV stations ran mini series on how World War III would play out.  We even had Great Britain and Argentina duking it out for a bit wondering if Russia might intervene.  Tensions ran high…but not for Ronald Reagan.  He went all in against Russia, way before the term was popularized by Texas Hold’em.  We ramped up our military and forced Russia to match us missile for missile, ship for ship.  On August 11, 1984, while running for re-election, Reagan was preparing to make his weekly Saturday address on National Public Radio.  As a sound check prior to the address, he made the following joke: “My fellow Americans, I'm pleased to tell you today that I've signed legislation that will outlaw Russia forever. We begin bombing in five minutes.”  Reagan was chastised for this.  How could he be so careless?  That is not how I saw it.  In a game of high stakes, he was making jokes at his opponents expense…and especially wanted for them to hear it.  Russia struggled financially trying to match the U.S. and they were on the brink of bankruptcy.  And here was the American leader, without a worry in the world, making a mockery of the Cold War.  It reminded me of the war movie “Battle of the Bulge”.  It depicted the final chance the Germans had to beat back the Allies.  Germany threw everything they had into one last-ditch effort.  In one of the scenes the German general captured an American supply truck.  What he found was a cake flown in from Boston only a few days earlier.  He quipped that his army did not have enough fuel for his tanks yet the Americans have the fuel and aircraft to fly things as trivial as cake to the front.  He realized he was fighting a losing battle.  I can only imagine this is how frustrated Gorbachev felt as he heard Ronald Reagan’s words that day.  My guess is he realized he could not win either.

Ronald Reagan’s success led to an overwhelming victory for his Vice President, George Herbert Bush, to become our next president.  Much like Gerald Ford, Bush served on and aircraft carrier, the USS San Jacinto (CVL-30), during World War II.  Only one difference, Bush flew the aircraft.  As a kid growing up on Long Island, we all knew Grumman Corporation as a well known builder of aircraft.  As a history buff, I was proud of the part they played in winning the war.  Grumman built the fighters known as the Wildcat and Hellcat.   But it would be their torpedo bomber, the Avenger that Bush would pilot.  A WWII veteran, a navy pilot who flew Long Island’s Grumman aircraft…yeah, you could see why I liked him.  This day a print depicting his plane flying over his carrier, and signed by George Herbert Bush himself, is proudly displayed in my family room.  Unfortunately three words would derail his chances for a second term, “No new taxes”.  This would be a harbinger of things to come.  A turning point of the Republican Party, which now became focused on not raising taxes.  Other Republican presidents raised taxes, why did these three words became such a rallying point.  But this was the beginning of the end of the Republican Party as I knew it.

Bill Clinton would become our next president.  I was still astounded Bush could lose to the likes of him.  A smarmy fellow, he was nothing like the war hero he just replaced.  He would have success in office, and that seemed to make the Republican Party angry.  They did not know how to handle having the Democrats succeed, so they attacked.  From the White Water scandal to Monica Lewinsky.  Had the Republican’s forgotten Nixon and his REAL crimes in office?  It was the beginning of Republicans with short memories.  After Clinton’s second term, it was Al Gore’s time.  He wouldn’t stand a chance against the Republican machine, one that had warmed up by dismantling one of it’s own.  I happened to like Al Gore.  He invented the Internet for Christ’s sake!  Well, anyway, he was good for technology and the environment.  Also, you hope he could continue to lead the country to prosperous times like Clinton had before him.

As Al Gore easily locked up the Democratic presidential nomination, the Republican side was not so cut and dry.  You had George Herbert Bush’s son, George W.  One look at him and you could see the apple fell far from the tree…rolled down the hill, off a cliff, into the river and washed out to sea.  He was nothing like his father…if you missed my point.  He skipped out on the Vietnam War, was a C student and road his father’s success.  I get it, he was a legacy.  Throw him a bone.  The REAL candidate was John McCain.  Obviously he caught my eye as a Naval aviator.  In the early to mid 60’s he served aboard the aircraft carriers USS Intrepid and USS Enterprise.  Yes, that Intrepid sitting in downtown New York and yes that Enterprise that gave Gene Roddenberry starship it’s name.  In 1967 McCain volunteered for assignment with the USS Oriskany, another aircraft carrier employed in Operation Rolling Thunder.   Once there, he would be awarded the Navy Commendation Medal and the Bronze Star for missions flown over North Vietnam.  On October 26, 1967 while flying his 23rd bombing mission against North Vietnam, his plane was shot down by a missile over Hanoi.  McCain became a prisoner of war in North Vietnam for five and a half years.  He was released on March 14, 1973.  His wartime injuries left him permanently incapable of raising his arms above his head.  There was NO way George W. Bush would defeat him in the Republican primaries.

Eight years of Clinton had left the Republicans bitter.  Not the ones who vote, or run for office…but the ones who actually influence what happens.  McCain was a moderate, he probably could have been a Democrat.  Even though he would have made an excellent president, the Republican “powers that be” did not want him.  They wanted someone who they could control, manipulate…someone without any real thoughts of his own, a C student.  The Republican machine sprang into action breaking down McCain.  He was one of their own, a war hero, and the right man for the job.  What they put him through was a shame.  It was these actions that left a bitter taste in my mouth with the Republican Party.  The man they wanted, the man who would run the country for the next eight years…would make these Republican “powers that be” even more powerful.   Big business would now run this nation like never before, and a great divide among its people was created…one that had not been seen since the Civil War.  Eventually, some of this was exposed in the financial collapse in August of 2007.  The Republican “powers that be” knew the 2008 election would be a lost cause.  They offered up McCain as cannon fodder.  Eight years later he was a shell of who he was, and his policies changed just to win the Republican nomination.  They threw in Miss Alaska as a final insult to the poor man.  I would no longer back the Republican Party.

The nation wanted something so different that the Democrats offered a woman, Hillary Clinton and a black man, Barrack Obama.  I wanted Hillary.  I thought she might restore some order to a country in disarray.  Having the Clinton’s back in the White House might not be such a bad thing.  It was her time, but the Democrats can mess up a free lunch.  The Clinton’s knack for working with the Republicans was just what was needed to close the great divide.  Instead they elected Obama as their choice, and it divided a nation even further.  I don’t think the country was ready for a black president.  I see racism every day, and I am in the melting pot of New York City.  I can only imagine how the people of the south and mid-west think of him.  And you can see how it has reflected by looking at the political poles.  You may say racism has nothing to do with it, you see he failed us as a leader.  Don’t believe everything the Republican “powers that be” feed you.  The funny part is they couldn’t be happier after his four years.  As much as you watch FOX News break down “the worst President in US history”, don’t let them fool you.  If you were rich during these four years, you got richer.  If you were a big business, you made unmatched profits.  If you worked on Wall Street, you laughed all the way to the bank.  If you were middle class, you lost your house.  The talking heads on FOX are in the 1%...and they are pulling away from you financially at light speed.  The Republican “powers that be” are represented by the Koch (pronounced “Coke”) brothers.  If you don’t know who they are, shame on you.  They ARE the men behind the curtain.  They are the real life Randolph and Mortimer Duke from the movie Trading Places.  And they are loving every minute of the Obama administration.  But much like the movie, even though Eddie Murphy is making them money, they both come to the same conclusion, “Do you really believe I would have a (n-word) run our family business?”  Enter Mitt Romney.  The Bible belt will vote for him because he is not black.  They will use the guise of the Mormon religion is “Christian”.  BULLSHIT.  Jesus was not from the planet Kolob.  And others say, Vote Romney, he is a businessman that created jobs.  BULLSHIT, he is the real life Gordon Gekko from Wall Street.  Buying businesses and then closing them for profit.  Tell me again how that creates jobs?  It’s like the townspeople in Blazin’ Saddles and Obama was the new sheriff.

Maybe I could vote Republican again if they could put forth a “Real” candidate.  Where are the Ford's, the Reagan's and even the McCain's?   Where are the war heroes, where are the unabashed leaders?  It seems more and more that the men behind the curtain control our Government…and they don’t want a true leader in place.  Obama has served their purpose and now they tell you it is time for him to go.  I love how the Republican “powers that be” will feed you…”Are you better than you were four years ago?”  You probably aren’t.

But the Republican “powers that be” are.

Iceland - Golden Circle

Returning from the Blue Lagoon I was finally able to get some sleep.  We arrived back around 5:30pm, but we would soon be off for our Northern Lights adventure at 8:00pm.  The entire group of 12 arrived in the lobby on time…surprisingly.  I am guessing it had to do with the fact that our tour included dinner.

Our tour guide arrived, a tall burly man named Ziggy.  He was the complete opposite of his cartoon counterpart.  An imposing figure, you did not have to imagine far back along his lineage to see the imprint of his Viking predecessors.  Outside the hotel we found a vehicle that fit the man himself.  A huge off roading “Super Jeep” that was more than aptly named.  The entire team fit comfortably.  We were informed that the Northern Lights might not be cooperating that night, so he suggested we head to dinner first.  This met with little resistance since many of us only had a light lunch.  We drove towards the tiny fishing village of Stokkseyri.  It was about an hour from Reykjavík so we all settled in.  I was in the back of the bus, and caught a quick nap, as my two-hour night sleep did not quite cut it.  During that time our tour guide rattled off Icelandic information and those of us awake asked questions.  As we arrived at our destination, we could still see that the sky was overcast…further diminishing our chance at the Northern Lights.  However, now it was time to eat and the restaurant Fjorubordid was warm and welcoming.  The Fjorubordid was a well-known restaurant.  Also dining there that evening was the hockey team from Vancouver…more on them in a later blog.  The majority of us did the Lobster dinner.  Unlike Maine lobster, these langoustines where much smaller in comparison.  Two large bowls filled with these lobster tails emerged for each table.  Filled to the brim, it seemed like a Nordic Crawfish Boil.  We tore into the tiny tails like we hadn’t eaten in days.

After dinner we headed back to the jeep.  Our guide said he was on his smart phone checking atmospheric conditions to see if things had changed…most of us thought he was just surfing the web for porn.  I will say, he did give the illusion of a full on attempt at getting us a glimpse of the lights.  On the way back, he would stop and get out…and check the night sky.  The overcast started to dissipate, but another nemesis, a bright moon, now stood in our way.  We were offered some off roading to replace our failed Northern Lights attempt, but at this point the team was in a food coma.  A long day of travel and a full day of tours, we all agreed it was time to head back to the hotel.  Tomorrow our adventures would continue.

The following morning the same guide arrived with the same Super Jeep.  We were off to the Golden Circle tour.  The Golden Circle is a popular tourist route in South Iceland, covering about 300 km looping from Reykjavík into central Iceland and back.  The three primary stops on the route are the national park Þingvellir, the waterfall Gullfoss (meaning "golden falls"), and the geothermally active valley of Haukadalur, which contains the geysers Geysir and Strokkur.   We were scheduled to leave at 10:00am and return at 6:00pm, so we were in for a full day.  Our first hockey game was not until 10:00pm that night, so we would have time to rest a bit when we got back.  Our first stop was Þingvellir.  Þingvellir became a national park in 1928 due to its historical importance, as well as the special tectonic and volcanic environment.  The continental drift between the North American and Eurasian Plates can be clearly seen in the cracks or faults which traverse the region, the biggest one, Almannagjá, being a veritable canyon.  When we arrived we exited the jeep to trek among the tectonic plates.  Where in California the plates collide, in Iceland they pull apart creating the aforementioned canyon.  We hiked through the break and down along the natural springs.  Our tour guide picked us up on the other side of the park.  It was time to see the Great Gazoo…I mean Geysir.  This was the first geyser known to modern Europeans, but is not as faithful as it’s Yellowstone counterpart.  We did not see it erupt, nor where we going to stand around waiting for it.  We did catch the smaller geyser Strokkur spew its boiling water a few times.  Sorry Geyser’s, ours in the US is much more impressive.  Our next stop along the tour would be the Gullfoss waterfall.  Lunch of a common dish in Iceland, meat soup, would be waiting for us upon arrival.  The meat soup is basically a lamb stew.  Seems it is not safe to be a lamb in Iceland since almost every dish contains it.  The only thing more endless than the bowls of stew was the breathtaking view.  We were seated in a banquet room with windows all around.  Filled from our lunch, it was time to hike down to the falls.  An upper level overlooked the flowing water below.  A brisk wind kept me from inching closer to the edge.  There was a pathway below that took you to the edge of the water.  As we descended, a rainbow appeared above.  Seems there are no shortages of rainbows in Iceland.

The last leg of our tour we were given options.  We could head to the Lava Fields, we could head higher in the mountains for a glimpse of the landscape below or head to the Glacier.  The choice was easily made, Glacier it was!  The semi-paved road soon gave way to a rocky path among the moon like surface.  Our driver stopped and made a quick announcement.  “I need to let air out of the tires to make it an easier ride.”  Of course some of us were curious how he was going to put the air BACK into the tires…I was wondering how bad the terrain was we would be encountering.  As we approached the Glacier, what was a rocky road became just rocks.  It was like mountain climbing in a jeep.  What in commercials they use CGI for, we were now doing for real.  There were moments where I felt we were going to tip over and roll to the rocks below.  As we got to the Glacier, it was so desolate, I couldn’t help but think of the Uruguayan rugby team in the Andes.  Hopefully we would fare a bit better, none of my teammates looked that appetizing.  In the comfort of the heated jeep, it did not look so cold and intimidating outside.  How wrong I was!  We exited to our perpetual winter wonderland.  We were warned to stay close to the jeep, since you might hit soft pockets in the snow that could be several feet deep.  Great, I would be entombed for future archeologists to find after the great global warming.  Soon we were back in the jeep, but not for long.  As we got to the end of the Glacier, once of us announced he had to go…and took note there were no outhouses.  Our guide said, well, it is easier now before we get back to the rocks.  He brought the jeep to a halt so he could exit…and what was one now became all twelve.  And they say women go to the bathroom at the same time!  We all picked different spots encompassing the jeep.  Jokes of writing our names in the Glacier, of frozen pee and of shrinkage were bandied about.  As we settled back into the jeep, one of our teammates quipped, “I guess now we know why it is called the GOLDEN circle!”

It was time to head back.  We stopped at the falls, it was here there was a place to refill the jeep’s tires.  We arrived at the hotel later than expected, but in plenty of time to get ready.

For soon it was game time.

Iceland - Blue Lagoon

Tuesday, October 2^nd, 8:40pm was our flight.  Our arrival time in Iceland was 6:15am the next day.  The team trickled into Terminal 7 at JFK between 6-6:30.  No shock, we all met up at the bar.  We had a toast or two to our upcoming expedition.  Boarding was announced and we were on our way.

Not getting much sleep on the red eye flight, I had hoped to catch a nap at the hotel.  Luckily, I was one of the first to check in.  I received my key card and was off.  I lugged my luggage up to my room.  Before settling in I needed to rendezvous with the tournament organizer, Barry, to receive our bracelets.  These would allow us access to the shuttles back and forth to the rink…plus the party and other perks.  As I passed by the front desk, the last three of our team were checking in.  They called me over and I knew it couldn’t be good news.  Seems one of our group was left off the list…and left without a room.  Since I was on my way to see Barry anyway, I said let me grab him to see where things went astray.  Looking at the list he noticed he had sent an updated one with our last minute addition, however he added it to an old list that was missing one person.  The hotel clerk unfortunately advised us there were no more rooms left.  Since I had a single with 2 separate beds, and my friend was left without a room, I said we should just share my room.

We had about two hours before our departure to the Blue Lagoon.  Both of us being exhausted, we crashed on the beds without even removing the covers.  Then it happened…and Christina would love the irony.  My friend began to snore…and snore so loud I think people down on the street could hear.  My chance for a nap was gone.  Worse yet, there was NO WAY I was going to be able to spend the next four nights with Snorezilla.  I went back down to the lobby to where Barry had been, but no one was there.  I asked the desk clerk where he had gone.  He informed me he went up to his room and surprisingly he gave me the room number.  I don’t think he would have been sold out so quickly in a New York hotel.  As I arrived at the door, there was a “Do Not Disturb” sign adorning the doorknob.  Great.  I turned to walk away, then felt…well, hell, I have been disturbed enough myself already.  No tag would stand in my way.  I knocked on the door and waited.  I knew the first try would not take.  I soon pounded a little harder and I could hear movement.  I could make out a grumble, “I put the bloody sign out there for a reason.”  The door was opened and his head popped out.  I pleaded my case that I had gotten a single room for a reason.  I am a light sleeper and any snorer, even slight, would ruin my trip.  I couldn’t even get some shuteye now before our spa adventure.  I apologized for waking him and he promised to make things right.  I returned to my room to stare at the ceiling as my friend slept.  Soon the alarm clock went off and my friend arose.  He asked me if I was able to catch some sleep.  I informed him of his Fred Flintstone impersonation.  We each packed a bag with our swim trunks and some toiletries and headed to meet up with our group downstairs.  Barry was at the front desk.  True to his word, he made things right.  He was moving to another of the tournament’s hotels.  He had given up his room in our hotel for me.

We arrived at the Blue Lagoon and our driver/tour guide checked us in.  It was at this time I confirmed my in water massage I had booked.  I was good to go.  A few others were now interested.  I had e-mailed the guys days before telling them to book in advance because it usually fills up.  None of them were able to get one once we were there, I would be the only lucky one.  We changed and headed into our geothermal paradise.  Immediately the guys spotted the bar at one end of the pool and swam up for service.  I passed on the beer, since I did not want to have to hold it in while getting a massage.  And, being in the water itself, who knew if I was going to be able to pull off such a daunting task!  We made our way over to the silica mud station.  This mud is placed on your face and is said to gently exfoliate the skin.  We were secure in our metro sexuality.  Once applied we headed back towards the bar area.  Somehow I managed to get it in both my eyes.  No biggie, we were in water…I would just wash it out.  That made it only worse.  I was practically blind.  I was in Scooby Doo flashback scene but perpetually stuck at the blurry point.  On top of it I was not sure if I washed out my contacts when I went under water.  I was a mess.  Luckily I had sunglasses to block my blinded eyes.  I was going to ask for help, but pride got the better of me.  I was able to make some shapes out of the corner of my left eye.  I thought it best to head back to the locker room showers to rinse out the mud.  As I headed towards the building I was able to locate my towel, what I was not able to locate was the automatic swinging door.  And you guessed it…it swung open and hit me right between the eyes.  That didn’t help my vision.  I am glad the team missed that sight.  I cleaned out my eyes not knowing if my contacts remained…as things were still quite a bit blurry…but better.  I had a hard time keeping my eyes open since they still stung from the mud.  I now realized it was almost time for my massage and I needed to head back to the water.  Luckily the automatic door swung only outward.

Once back in the Lagoon, I carefully worked my way over to the massage area.  I was barely able to read the sign telling me to wait until called.  After several minutes a voice rang out with an Irish brogue, “Mr. Walsh?”  I let her know that was me, I also let her know I was mud blinded.  She said something to the effect that the mud was supposed to go AROUND the eyes, not in them.  Yeah, I am well aware of that now.  She took me by my hand and led me like a Seeing Eye masseuse to the private massage pool.  I was placed on a floating mat and a wet towel put on top of me.  As far as massages go, the routine was the same except for every few minutes she would submerse me into the hot water to keep me from getting cold.  I inquired how an Irish girl wound up in Iceland.  She informed me that along with being a sports therapist, she also played semi pro “football”…soccer that is...and came to Iceland to play.  She also worked with the soccer players from the Irish Men’s National Team.  She mentioned it was tough to be a female sports therapist in a male dominated sport.  I pointed out to her that the Steelers head trainer was female and very well respected and had broken down some of those gender barriers.  Mostly I brought it up so I could work the Steelers into the conversation.  Of course Max was worked in there too.  As we conversed we started to hear another conversation.  She told me that when you went under the waterfall, the sound will echo and can be heard in the private pools.  And wouldn’t you know it…those voices came with New York accents.  Here I am trying to relax, and all I can hear is my own team.  At least it gave me a heads up that they were coming to take my picture.

All good things must come to an end, as this massage did.  I wished her good luck in her career and hoped we might run into each other later that week in the bars.  I told her I would have to recognize her by her brogue, as my eyesight had not quite returned.  Having kept my eyes shut during that hour, they had settled down enough to let me at least see.  I made my way back to the in water bar, as I knew that was where my friends would be.  They told me that you were only allowed three beers per person with the bracelet you were issued for payment.  I became very popular when they realized I had not used mine at all.  The guys split my beers and it was time to emerge from the lagoon with our water-wrinkled bodies.

With my eyesight nearly back, and somehow my contacts still in place, we headed towards the Lagoon’s restaurant for some soup and sushi.  A rainbow appeared over the Lagoon, and it was a great sight to see.  “See” being the operative word.  We finished our lunch and got back in the van to head to the hotel…revived and rejuvenated.

And able to see.

Iceland - The Beginning

In 2007 an idea was born.  My friend Joe had found a tournament in Iceland.  Now parts of our team had already traveled for games in Boston, Lake Placid and even Montreal.  But this would be a little more of an undertaking.  Late night beers brought about bravado of going…to a point that one of our newer teammates obtained his passport.  It would be another five years before he would have the need to use it.

Each year we would be able to muster up the same core group of six to commit to the plan.  Although, one of us continually played the part of Lewis Morris of New York in the musical 1776…abstaining, "courteously".  We needed at least eleven players with one being a goalie.  Each year I contacted the organizer of the tournament and he tried to convince me to come.  He said he could fill out the team with players from another city.  We all felt that if we were to go, we would rather go as a full team.  This year they had moved the tournament from November to October.  The start of it would fall on my friend Joe’s 50th birthday, the one whose idea it was to go to Iceland all along.  I decided I would organize our trip and get the needed players as my present to him.

I first sent out an e-mail to our team this past December.  I put in the subject line “Iceland Tournament (The Country)”.  Some quickly responded they were in.  Great, we were off to a good start!  However, I would find out shortly they failed to read between the parentheses.  We have a hockey rink we play at in New Hyde Park named Iceland…hence “The Country” part…and that is where some assumed we were playing.  With that finally cleared up, we still only had our “original six”…with one of those still a maybe.  A few weeks later that would all change.  After one of our games in early January, four guys on the team finally said they were interested.  It is the furthest we had ever gotten.  Now, we still needed a goalie if we wanted to go.  Also, a few more players wouldn’t hurt either.  One of the four new guys had a friend who played goal and wanted in.  One of the original guys, Dave, had a friend Pat who had played a few games with us before.  He was now onboard too.  We had 10 skaters and a goalie…and a maybe.  We were on our way.

Deposits were made by the end of January, with full payment not needed until mid August.  As the months wore on, some of the guys felt we had been scammed out of our $200.  I was in contact with the tournament organizer, however my friend’s ability to get me to question it was convincing.  From February until May it WAS eerily quiet.  However, he did respond to my e-mails quickly once they were sent.  Finally in June, we were asked for hotel preference and who wanted singles or doubles.  Also, the tournament website went up, along with our teams scheduled games. I breathed a sign of relief.  By the end of August we were all paid up.  Ten of us and the goalie.  The one maybe was now a NO.  Now this “No” was just not any no.  He was part of the core group who spends time together outside of hockey.  Also, we had played together for over 20 years.  One of his best friends is Joe, whose 50^th Birthday was the reason this all came together.  Even with that, he was still balking at the idea.  It was at a party at my house on Labor Day weekend that his wife finally got him to relent…or maybe it was his daughter who kept calling him a wuss.  He was never one to give in to drunken peer pressure but it seemed this time it finally worked.  Being sober the next day he texted to see if there was any way he could get out of it.  I told him it was too late, I changed the No to a Yes.  With that, his check was sent, the team was set.  We knew it would not have been the same without him.

Now with the roster finally set, I decided we would need a plan once we got there.  Having twelve guys trying to come up with one once we arrived, would turn into twelve guys sitting in a bar all day.  While most might not have objected, we didn’t need to go to Iceland to do that…we could have done that anywhere.  The tournament organizer sent me information on a tour guide.  I had already done research on the must see places in Iceland.  I explained what we wanted to do, and we were able to fit it in before the hockey games started.  The plan was that after we checked in, we would head to the geothermal spa, the Blue Lagoon, in the afternoon.  That evening would be dinner in a remote fishing village with the hope of catching the Northern Lights.  The next day we would explore the best Iceland has to offer…an 8 hour tour in what they called the Golden Circle.  I will give all the guys credit…with little hassle and very few e-mails…our schedule was agreed upon.

What had been five years in the making had finally arrived.  About four weeks before we were scheduled to leave I went on a “Vines and Canines” walk with Max.  At then end of those walks he likes to run and jump and pull me along with the leash…and I always oblige.  The next day I woke up with a severe pain in my arch.  I didn’t give it much thought…at this age I usually wake up with a new pain or two.  However this one did not go away…and it seemed to get worse.  Finally after two weeks of unending pain, I went to the podiatrist.  I had researched what it could be, but self-diagnosing is never optimal.  He did however validate my fears.  It was plantar fasciitis.  Plantar fasciitis is a painful inflammation of the plantar fascia, the connective tissue on the bottom surface of the foot.  It is often caused by overuse of the arch’s tendon.  I received ultrasound treatment and the foot was bandaged.  I was told it could last for months.  My hopes of it being healed before Iceland were dashed.

At this point I had not played hockey in over a month.  We had ended a successful summer campaign in mid August winning the Division Championship.  The Fall season was starting up and I wanted to play a game or two before we left for Iceland.  Of course my foot had other ideas.  I missed the first game but knew I had to skate at least once and test the arch before the tournament.  Also, hockey was one thing…walking on it would be another.  We had all those planned tours and a countryside to hike through.  By the time our second game of the season came around I had received a couple of treatments.  It was now only 4 days before we would leave for Iceland.  I had not played in a hockey game in almost 40 days.  That Friday night I left the house sooner than usual to get to the game early.  I wanted to get on the ice before the others so I could both test the foot and get as much practice as I could.  Then the LIE did its best imitation of the LIRR.  With little notice, the LIE was closed at exit 49…WHAT?  It was a Friday night at 9:00pm.  Who the hell does construction now!  As we were herded off the LIE to Route 110 I shot up north to get on the Northern Parkway.  I should have noticed no one was flowing that way.  As I got to the onramp for the Northern Parkway East…it was closed due to construction.  Really?  Let’s close BOTH major arteries on the North Shore at the same time in the same direction at the same exit...on a Friday night.  I am starting to think there is a conspiracy against me.  I wound up having to go back EAST on the Northern Parkway to turn around and come back west.  I finally got to the rink, rushed to get dressed, and missed the warm-ups.  Great, so much for getting there early.  The game went well considering.  I kept my left skate tight to minimize movement…and pain.  By the end of the game I felt better playing, the foot however did not.  This was the best it was going to get for the trip and the tournament.

Tuesday was the day of departure.  I went to the podiatrist that morning to receive one more treatment and one last bandaging.  Afterwards I went to buy a new pair of recommended hiking shoes to alleviate the pressure from all the walking that lie ahead.  Five years in the making…

And I never felt so unprepared.