Showing (PPS)

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So this past Thursday was the first Thursday of winter, sort of, in that it was the first day of Thursday hockey. I put clean socks in my bag and drove off to the arena (the arena mentioned in ‘Watering‘; it’s not all that far away). I arrived with plenty of time to change (that’s not like me at all), threw my bag over my shoulder and walked through the player’s entrance. (That’s sort of like the servant’s entrance, but smellier.) Once in, I paused to consult the Font Of All Knowledge to find out what change rooms we had been assigned. Smug in the knowledge that the blackboard was gone, I wasted no time looking for it and immediately consulted the TV set. It had helpful information… information on the etiquette one should follow when choosing a seat on a bus.

I stopped. While this information is, I suppose, valuable and something that everyone should know, I didn’t find it helpful for at least two reasons. First of all, it didn’t tell me which change room I should head for. Secondly, well, I don’t ride the buses in Kingston. It’s not that I have anything against buses, but the routes the local ones follow are generally, um, not useful — most of the routes (historically at least) have been milk runs so it’s almost always been faster to walk. (Once upon a time, my office was a hundred meters or so from a bus stop and my home was about a hundred meters from another stop on the same route. It was still faster to walk.) While I pondered why they would choose to display this particular helpful information in a building with NO BUS SERVICE, the displayed information changed. After the change it asked me (in large friendly letters) if I knew that cardboard was recyclable.

Actually, I did. What I didn’t know, though, was what change room(s) had been assigned to us. I looked around for the blackboard thatwasn’t there. It still wasn’t there, but there, hanging on a nail, was a different piece of retro technology.

A clipboard.

Clipped to the clipboard was (duh) a piece of paper covered in scribbled ball-point. It had (yay) a list of change room assignments. They covered every group. Every single group from 5 PM until closing time.

The only problem was that our group went on at 4.

I fell back on the old standby of trying every dressing room in order until I found an open one.

I was right. There are cheaper ways to be wrong.

The Author

Rose Glace is the pseudonym of nobody important.


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