I love hockey...and last night some free tickets landed in my lap and I got to see the local Dallas Stars play (and win). A few observations:
It's hard explaining to your 12-year-old daughter that the face value of the third-level seats is $70 per after she asks, "That'd be a $140 bucks, Dad. Who can afford THAT?"
They designed the arena so people can enjoy the EXPERIENCE of going to the game as the primary attraction. Examples: Four restaurants and bars, plenty of shopping, not to mention an entire level of luxury suites, movie clips to punctuate key moments in the game and all sorts of other "game presentation" features, etc. For some reason, the experience seems to override the game rather than enhance it.
There is a light-rail train that services the arena. No one takes it northbound to the suburbs. Everyone who rides it goes south to the restaurants.
How much longer will the lesbian kiss be hip? Last night, two college-coeds were waving to the camera that pans the audience during stoppages of play and then kissed each other. The crowd went crazy. Both the kiss and the crowd reaction are harder to explain to your 12-year-old daughter than the ticket prices.
There's really not a bad seat in the arena. We were in the third level and could see everything. Two of our team's three goals happened right in front of us, which was cool. You don't have to explain much to your 12-year-old daughter about hockey because she understands the game from playing the computer game "Backyard Hockey" enough to get the gist of it. Of course, you have to explain offsides and icing once or twice but if you get those concepts watching the game is a snap.
Most of the women at hockey games look like they're on cocaine and have had breast augmentation. Most of the guys have official hockey jerseys and mullets. They even have a "mullet meter" on the screen in between periods and flash the guys with the 80's hairstyle for everyone to cheer and make the meter run higher. The mullet is hard to explain to your 12-year-old daughter who asked, "Why would anyone have short hair on top and long hair in the back?" Mental note: Hide the college photo album.
If you park in the blue lot and live in the north suburbs of Dallas, you get one-way access to the necessary interstate ramp. We got home in 35 minutes parking lot to driveway. It's very important to guys to make good time.
Your 12-year-old daughter chooses Brendan Morrow as her favorite player. I like this because he's scrappy and plays hard and not a superstar. Yet, anyway. Every other girl likes Mike Modano, the superstar. I wonder what implications this has on her future dating choices.
It's amazing the sounds you hear even three levels up. A hockey puck smacking the post makes a "ting" you can hear throughout the building. The "thud" of guys crashing into the boards. The tapping of sticks on the ice. The grinding of skates on the ice when they stop. You can hear more than you'd imagine.
The profit margin on snacks and sodas makes me wish I'd gone into concessions as a career.
You wonder how the huge escalators that take you to your level can hold that many people on them at one time. That and the really long line forced us to risk vertigo going down the stairwell at the end of the game.
There is risk in going to a major league game of any time. I mean, you shell out big bucks (well, the corporations do, anyway) for tickets and you don't know if the game will be a snoozer or thrilling or whatever. I will say that it makes the entire evening better when the home team wins and the crowd gets into it.
Final observation: There are few better ways to spend a Friday night than with your 12-year-old daughter.
It's hard explaining to your 12-year-old daughter that the face value of the third-level seats is $70 per after she asks, "That'd be a $140 bucks, Dad. Who can afford THAT?"
They designed the arena so people can enjoy the EXPERIENCE of going to the game as the primary attraction. Examples: Four restaurants and bars, plenty of shopping, not to mention an entire level of luxury suites, movie clips to punctuate key moments in the game and all sorts of other "game presentation" features, etc. For some reason, the experience seems to override the game rather than enhance it.
There is a light-rail train that services the arena. No one takes it northbound to the suburbs. Everyone who rides it goes south to the restaurants.
How much longer will the lesbian kiss be hip? Last night, two college-coeds were waving to the camera that pans the audience during stoppages of play and then kissed each other. The crowd went crazy. Both the kiss and the crowd reaction are harder to explain to your 12-year-old daughter than the ticket prices.
There's really not a bad seat in the arena. We were in the third level and could see everything. Two of our team's three goals happened right in front of us, which was cool. You don't have to explain much to your 12-year-old daughter about hockey because she understands the game from playing the computer game "Backyard Hockey" enough to get the gist of it. Of course, you have to explain offsides and icing once or twice but if you get those concepts watching the game is a snap.
Most of the women at hockey games look like they're on cocaine and have had breast augmentation. Most of the guys have official hockey jerseys and mullets. They even have a "mullet meter" on the screen in between periods and flash the guys with the 80's hairstyle for everyone to cheer and make the meter run higher. The mullet is hard to explain to your 12-year-old daughter who asked, "Why would anyone have short hair on top and long hair in the back?" Mental note: Hide the college photo album.
If you park in the blue lot and live in the north suburbs of Dallas, you get one-way access to the necessary interstate ramp. We got home in 35 minutes parking lot to driveway. It's very important to guys to make good time.
Your 12-year-old daughter chooses Brendan Morrow as her favorite player. I like this because he's scrappy and plays hard and not a superstar. Yet, anyway. Every other girl likes Mike Modano, the superstar. I wonder what implications this has on her future dating choices.
It's amazing the sounds you hear even three levels up. A hockey puck smacking the post makes a "ting" you can hear throughout the building. The "thud" of guys crashing into the boards. The tapping of sticks on the ice. The grinding of skates on the ice when they stop. You can hear more than you'd imagine.
The profit margin on snacks and sodas makes me wish I'd gone into concessions as a career.
You wonder how the huge escalators that take you to your level can hold that many people on them at one time. That and the really long line forced us to risk vertigo going down the stairwell at the end of the game.
There is risk in going to a major league game of any time. I mean, you shell out big bucks (well, the corporations do, anyway) for tickets and you don't know if the game will be a snoozer or thrilling or whatever. I will say that it makes the entire evening better when the home team wins and the crowd gets into it.
Final observation: There are few better ways to spend a Friday night than with your 12-year-old daughter.
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