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Ein Hafen f�r das Hockey unterern�hrt

Die k�ltesten Tage w�rmen gut mein Hockeyherz

Fortunately, not long into her skating regimen, she was visited by injury, and as night shift manager, the duty was mine to attend to her.

She presented her injured wing to me back at the skate exchange. She’d acquired a rather severe scrape about her left elbow, as a modest amount of blood testified. She held it up for me to inspect. Briefly I considered canceling the session and closing the facility so that I might transport the victim to Bethesda’s Suburban hospital in my Jeep, at warp speed. Instead I hurdled the counter and raced toward the facility’s snack bar, to assemble a makeshift ice pack. I returned and presented her with the ice pack and offered to cleanse the wound with antiseptic and gauze, and then obviously follow with shoulder massage. She expressed appreciation for the ice but seemed embarrassed to accept the fuller prescription for remedy called for in Keeley’s Principles of Medical Physiology , vol. 1.

She held the ice pack to her elbow, and we started to chat, as best we could.

“You’re from Russia, aren’t you?” I asked.

“[Unintelligible -- certainly unspellable], in Siberia,” she responded.  

“I made my first visit to Russia this past May, to Moscow,” I replied. “I loved it.”

She smiled but remained conspicuously quiet, as if she’d understood little beyond the word ‘Moscow’.

“How long have you been in the U.S?” I pressed onward, undeterred.

She smiled again but shook her head. Speed dialing Chesnokov’s cell phone would only further confuse her, I reasoned.    

Back on the ice she went, back to bachelor’s strategizing I returned.

Within my supervisor’s powers I hold the ability – albeit sanctionable perhaps (likely) by suspension – to redirect admisison tickets that went unstamped by cashiers during the day to young ladies I’d rather prefer to see returned for skating in the future, unencumbered by entry cost. Had I done this before yesterday? I cannot recall. Anyway, yesterday’s stack of tickets was thick and high; so necessarily I resolved to go through every one seeking just a pair I could pass off to my would-be beloved’s hand. Deep into the endeavor I found them. As the angel exited the session I handed them to her. She didn’t quite recognize their significance at first, but some seconds later, when I was nearly out of ear reach from her, she shouted “Thank you.”  

I feel like I know my friend Dmitry and how he will respond to this set of circumstances. I wager that he will make it his life’s mission this week to get me fluent in a handful of sentences in Russian so as to make a favorable impression on the Skating Queen should she return to my rink next Sunday night.

I could have used his help back in May.