One Day to Rest


The hockey tournament starts tomorrow . . . the first game’s at 9 in the morning. We’ll need to be there by 8 to check in, so we’ll have to leave the hotel by 7:30.

One other boy on the team flew in yesterday, got delayed in Chicago, and arrived even later than we did, around 2 a.m.

Most of the team is flying in today. I hope they have better luck with the flights than we did.


Our hotel room has a refrigerator, so we stop by the Publix grocery store next door to pick up a few things.


I mention to the girl at the checkout that we’re visiting from California.

“You’re getting some good weather,” she says.

It’s already 91 degrees at 10 in the morning, 110 percent humidity, so I ask her what would be considered bad weather?

“How long are you going to be here?” she asks.

“A week.”

“You’ll see,” she says ominously. “Rain.”

Around 5 in the afternoon, our lost suitcases arrive at the hotel. Shortly thereafter, as prophesied, the rains come, a full-blown thunderstorm that lasts through the evening . . .

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