Tonight St. John’s College held their International Dinner. Residents were encouraged to dress up in traditional garb from different nations. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t your own home country. More women than men dressed up, but that was alright. There were a lot of kimonos, at least one sari, and a few other national costumes. Nic, who’s from New Zealand, wore his rugby clothes. Mark, who’s from Ontario, wore his Leafs jersey. People hassled him. He did not receive any pity from me.

I really like these SJC dinners. The food is great and I like the formality of the events. There’s usually an hour of chit-chat at the reception where people get liquored up on wine and eat tasty finger foods. Then there’s the actual dinner.

I took lots of photos from the event, but I swear, every photo I’m in, I think I closed my eyes. I’m going to develop them tomorrow. I still haven’t scanned in my photos from Chinese New Year. I feel shame.

Well, after the dinner I had finished about four glasses of wine. Plus, I had a huge meal. The food was awesome. I have a new respect for Thai beef.

The ball hockey team had a game right at 9:30pm. I thought was in the clear since I didn’t have my jersey to wear today. Well, someone handed me a shirt at the last minute and before long, I was stumbling off to Osborne.

When we got there, I saw that the other team had two girls playing! Whoa, I thought, we’re gonna lose to girls this time.

I was totally bagged before we even started. Heavy from food and drink, I could not help but dog it for first few minutes. Then I started noticing this asshole from the other team, #15. He was going around and doing stupid shit with his stick. He’d go and slap our sticks when the play was totally away. I can understand if two guys were getting into it and there was some stickwork involved, but this was out of nowhere. And this guy didn’t even know the rules. We had ball possession several times where we’re allowed to run the ball in or pass it after the ref blows the whistle. Also, they have to give us 6 feet of space. We’re given 5 seconds to move it after which the other team can check us. Well, one time I was going to start the play, and buddy here was standing almost next to me. For some reason the ref blows whistle when he shouldn’t have and #15 takes the ball from the circle. Everyone’s standing around looking at this idiot run towards the goal. The ref is yelling at him to bring it back and he turns around and goes, “What? You blew the whistle!”.

The ref goes over to him and explains the rules to him. Not a minute later, the play is ruled dead again and we get possession. The ref blows the whistle and Aseem is about to pass when #15 rushes him right away. The ref blows the play dead again and again, he goes over to #15 and reminds him about the rules. What a moron.

Steve was our goalie for this game and he was getting some unlucky bounces. He’d make the initial save, but the ball would take a crazy bounce over his head or something and land on the goal line. The other team would just tap it in. There scored a few garbage goals like that. No biggie. Just a game. Then after one such goal, Steve said, “Ah… they’re getting a lot of garbage goals tonight…”, which was a fair assessment. Well, #15 heard this and said, “Well, you’re letting a lot of garbage in…”

Steve and I were like, “What the fuck are you talking about??!?!”. Garbage goals aren’t a reflection on how good or bad a team is, it’s just a statement of their luck. Some of their guys were actually pretty good.

As #15 and I were lining up for the faceoff, I asked him, “What the fuck is your problem? Where’d that come from?”

“Ask your ‘tender,” he said.

Now I’m usually a calm guy when it comes to hockey. We’ve been beat 15-3 and 16-1, and it’s no big deal, but I don’t like assholes. So we lined up again and as soon as the ref blew the whistle I cross-checked him in the chest. Apparently, I didn’t do it hard enough since he didn’t go down.

“What the fuck ref!” was his reply.

“Oops sorry,” I said.

“What, you want to fight?” he countered.

“Whatever buddy, keep playing…”, I suggested.

Meanwhile, Steve is witnessing this from our crease and he’s laughing his ass off. I turn around and start laughing too because the play is continuing on a blantant cross-check. There’s no way the ref missed it because I did on the faceoff. I guess he thought he deserved it.

Anyways, I’m keeping my eye on #15 now. I’d expect any guy to give it back to me, but strangely, he doesn’t. I’m not sure if I should be impressed or disappointed. Did he take the high road or is he a shit-disturber that shies away from the rough stuff? Let me point out that this guy had about 6″ inches on me, so it’s not like I was intimidating him.

The game goes on and I keep it clean, but Steve won’t stop heckling #15. It’s a shame Steve wasn’t playing out, ’cause I know he would have drilled that guy good.

So, the game ends and we lost of course, but the kicker is that Steve and I are dying to shake #15’s hand. It’s just a game is our philosophy. Anyways, we get to the end of the line, and #15 is nowhere to be seen.

Steve says, “Where’s your big tall guy? #15? Is he off crying somewhere? Let’s shake!”

One of their girls replied, “Oh I think he said he was hurt.”

Oh well. Part of me doesn’t think he was hurt. He seemed like the type to raise shit in the game and not be man enough to look you in the eye afterwards and shake. Though, if I indeed hurt him, well that might teach him to play with a little more honour next time.

When I got back I nearly threw up three times in half an hour, but I re-hydrated myself and here I am typing. Final assessment: fun game. I got to cross-check a guy that deserved it.

Whoops, I have class in about seven and a half hours, I gotta put this post and myself to bed.

Before I leave, I’d like to announce my next interview here on erwintang.com is mere days away, possibly on Monday or Tuesday. Stay tuned!

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