
So...we were at a Grand Rapids Griffins hockey game last night. Between periods it is always entertaining to stand and watch not only what is going on on the ice, but how the crowd is acting as well.
Between the second and third period the Griffins' mascot had a hotdog shooter and was getting the opposited sides of the arena all riled up. Which ever side shouted the loudest got the hotdog shot their way.
Stacey and I are just standing there commenting at how crazy people can be all for the very slight chance that they might get a free hotdog. And not just any hotdog, but one that has been shot out of a cannon at 84.5 miles per hour.
Just then, Griff aims our way and a hotdog projectile just about hits Stacey square and ends up sitting under her seat. Now the real dilema begins. Brant wants to eat this hotdog that cam partially unwrapped mid-flight. What does a good parent do? I decided to give him what wasn't exposed to whatever explosive residue may have been in the cannon not to mention what was lurking under the seat. I come to find out, however, that these projectile hotdogs are wrapped in packing tape to keep them at least half wrapped as they fly through the air. Ten minutes later, I almost had it unwrapped. We got about two bites of cold hotdog from the whole experience.
So, all of this craziness by a few hundred people was all over two bites of a cold hotdog. We certainly can be strange...







