I was standing in line for ice-cream and a Coke. A very long, painfully slow moving line. Daniel F. Briere had just tied the game and then put the Flyers up (Kate's fault - she actually said OUT LOUD, "As long as it's not Briere") and I could see Bucky Gleason up in the press box giggling in delight so I was already cranky. And then the period started and I was STILL standing in the line that was NOT MOVING AT ALL when a puck blooped into the net to put the Flyers up 5-3. The escalator was right there. I told myself I could just leave, no problem. I could text Kate and tell her I couldn't take any more and surely she would understand. I could stop at Anderson's on the way home and get ice-cream and a Coke. The escalator was RIGHT THERE.
But I didn't leave. In fact, I stayed until the very bitter end. Because I'm sick. Very, very sick.