Quarter past the hour, the bus was swamped as a freeway at traffic hour. Orca blue had camouflaged the city; fortunately, accents of flaming red had made their presence felt. Furthermore, it was evident that it was playoff season. As game time neared, my cousin and I made our way to our Hotel. Just hours before puck drop, the rabid Canucks fans, delivered some rather crude looks as we strolled down Robson Street in our Gaudreau shirts. Moreover, we modestly smirked back, as our flames were up 1-0 in the series.
The horizon had been tinted in the colors of the wild orca, it was evident that playoff hockey was alive on the west coast. More importantly, we had reached the gates of the arena. Although we had arrived a mere two hours before game
The horizon had been tinted in the colors of the wild orca, it was evident that playoff hockey was alive on the west coast. More importantly, we had reached the gates of the arena. Although we had arrived a mere two hours before game