I've alluded to this little misadventure before, but I've yet to share the full story online, which I can now safely do as I no longer live in Boston and don't have to worry about being forever banned from Fenway or something (not that I like the Sox anyways, but still).

The story begins two days before the Winter Classic this year, where the Flyers and Bruins were set to play at Fenway. In Boston you couldn't avoid the hype; it was absurd. You go to a bar and people were talking about it, go to a pub and people were talking about it. Go to, well, some other sort of drinking establishment and what I'm trying to say is I spent way too much time drinking at bars and pubs.

That night I met some friends at the Cambridge Brewing Company for drinks, and for some bizarre reason I decided to do an open tab, which I never do. Why? Well, I inevitably forget my credit card at the bar, no matter how much or how little I drink. So of course, I left my card there. I have New Years Eve off for a medical appointment, and afterwards I realize I'm missing my credit card and hop on the T over to Cambridge to grab. After the awkward moment of "Heyyyy, so I left my credit card here last night..." I got it back and figured I'd just head home and avoid the awful horrible no good very bad weather. Which was basically a mix of sleet, rain, snow, and whatever else the clouds had left over in the year's bad weather budget.

So I head back to Kendall Station, fill-up my T pass, and notice a family in Flyers gear clearly confused and looking at a map of the T. Being an occasional nice guy, I figure, hey, I'll go see if I can help them out. Not like I have any other plans for the day besides sitting in a bar (SEE- ANOTHER BAR!). It turned out they were heading over to Fenway in an attempt to see the Flyers practice the day before the Classic. I started to give them directions, and then realized that going with them would probably be a much better idea than adding to the alcohol collection in my tummy. So I offered my guidance, and stood and talked to the family on the T while we went from red line to green line to Fenway.

The dad was a contracter who worked with the Navy, so we talked shop for a bit and the mom and youngest son (bizarrely enough) were the huge hockey fans of the family. I told them a little bit about the city, where to go, what to see, and so on, until we arrived at Fenway. Turns out a lot of people had the same idea, and the NHL had planned ahead allowing only people with special wrist bands to go in and watch the practices. So I sat out there with this family, talking to them and enjoying the disgusting weather for a little while. Finally the Flyers showed up (apparently the Bruins had been practicing until then) and a couple of the guys, Mike Richards and Aaron Asham I think, were nice enough to shake hands with those of us who were not developing severe hypothermia yet. Also Danny Carcillo gave me a fist bump.

At this point, I was done. I mean, Danny Carcillo had fist bumped me! Life is rad! I don't live in Canada were running into NHL stars is a normal thing. This was a BIG DEAL. And lets face it, the day could only go downhill from there- right? Wrong. It got better.

After this, the family and I decided we had been cold for far too long, and I led them to Boston Beer Works for some lunch and beer. While we were sitting there, they ran into a family who their son played midget or bantam or some sort of little kid hockey with (Disclaimer: I know nothing about hockey for children. My knowledge begins with Major Junior) in Philly, and it turns out they'd been given some wristbands to see the practices by a group of friendly Canadians (are there such things as unfriendly non-Quebecois Canadians? Hayley's family has only further reinforced my belief that no- there are not). The second family invited the boy from this family to go with them and see the Flyers practice.

After about 20 minutes, the dad of the family I was with decided to go exploring and find a way into Fenway sans wristband because, you know, why not? Five minutes later he gives his daughter a call (she was in high school, I think) and says for us to head around the building where, lo and behold, a garage door is cracked open about 2 feet off the ground. We roll under it, walk through the garage, and suddenly we're in the Bruins locker room with nobody else. I consider not taking anything one of my greatest life accomplishments. Eventually we figured out where we were, asked a security guard for directions to the rink, and wouldn't you know, we're standing next to the Fenway ice rink, watching the Flyers skate around. The rest of the story is pretty short- Pronger walked off the rink for some reason, and took a bunch of photos with people (including me!) and life was pretty much fantastic. Also I did end up stealing an official Winter Classic seat cushion from Fenway when we left. I couldn't resist.

The moralistic lesson? Be nice to people and Chris Pronger will take a photo with you. Or something. Also, hockey fans are the greatest fans and some of the nicest people in the world.

Here's the photo:

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