Dear Canadian Football fans, people that believe in fair catches, and those who don’t know what a rouge is,

I think that covers everybody. If, however, you happen to know what a rouge is and are not a fan of Canadian Football, I guess this story isn’t for you.

I went to the Canadian Football League’s western championship game in Vancouver this last November; private suite and everything. My hometown BC Lions were favourites to win the Grey Cup. Whether they did or not is irrelevant to this story, also, they totally sucked and I don’t want to talk about it.

I caught a ride with a friend of mine who had also been invited to the suite. We walked into the stadium through the press/private suite entrance and headed for the elevators. There were around ten cheerleaders also waiting for the elevator when we got there. I say ‘around ten’ because you can’t be too precise about these things. Somebody might think that I actually counted them. It’s hard for me to not count things though sometimes. For instance, at a church I went to recently the organ has 98 pipes showing and I really wish I knew how many pipes were not showing. Speaking of things showing, the cheerleaders were on their way up to the suites to sell calendars of themselves to raise funds for something irrelevant. I didn’t have any cash on me. Also, I imagined the conversation I would have to have about this purchase with my wife when I got home and I just couldn’t seem to get it off the ground. I don’t use calendars anyway. Why did I even consider buying a calendar? Silly. The elevator arrived and the cheerleaders got on and faced us. I would have waited for the next elevator and felt like a wussy dufus for the rest of my life but my compadre was not going to miss this chance and I had to follow or risk feeling like a massively extra special wussy dufus for the rest of my life. I’m not afraid of a few cheerleaders anyway so, what the hay. I got on. The doors close. I realize I’ve been staring at roughly ten cheerleaders for I’m not sure how many seconds. Casual rotation. Now I’ve got my back to a number of cheerleaders. Awkward. That’s all I can say. That, and there were eight of them.

Peace,
Benjamin Boyd