Hockey Sticks and Raw Fish

I must be doing something right in my current life. I am spending the week in Boise, Idaho, which is a pretty cool city (the current weather non-withstanding - apparently they are having the worst snow storms in the past 20 years - bringing natural disasters where ever I go).

And what could be better than Boise? Well, the theater across from my hotel has the Banff films playing (not that I have time to see them with my work load, but still). And, even better, there is a sushi restaurant IN MY HOTEL. Yes, the gods and goddesses are definitely shining down on me in my sushi induced coma, saying "we just want you to be happy - have another eel roll".

So what could make this place even more of a heaven on earth? Well, try professional hockey players. It turns out the lobby of my hotel is actually some kind of, whatever you call it, hockey stadium thingy with a big ice rink and everything. I discovered it when I got lost coming out of the parking garage. I was escorted to the lobby of my hotel by two hockey players (both with fake choppers) who were staying there. I have no idea what team they are, but I know they are pro based on some recky I did (that's spying for those not in the industry).

And what's not to love about hockey players. They get to wear those little chin straps so they always seem to be smiling. And the pads under their uniforms make them look really muscular. There's something feminine, yet artistic and deadly about skates. Kind of like people who do fencing. Gay until they stab someone, then it's pretty sexy. And the gloves. I like a man with big hands. The standard hockey luggage is a very sensible bag of epic proportions. If needed, you could stuff the stray corpse in it and ride down the elevator with Sherlock Holmes and not get caught. Which is not to say that luggage is everything in a relationship, but just to say it is something to consider.

Of course, many hockey players are short. And have fake choppers. I don't mind really great fake teeth but I hate caps. I do not want to see metal when I'm staring at some one's pearly whites. For some reason it makes me think of biting into an empty aluminum can. Yikes. Also, most hockey players are under 5'10", and I can't imagine dating a guy that short. Because you know he will never appreciate the 6 inch stilettos...