It happened last night: Playoff fever.
I was working the first part of a double duty, fourteen hour shift (in the beautiful "Bellingham Area") when it hit. My boss at the Mount Baker Theater dropped the hint she was following the Red Wings-Coyotes game and mentioned her family was from the Michigan area, therefore her loyalties are with Hockeytown's heroes. Since I am somewhat new at that workplace I go all calm and cool, making a joke about the Coyotes. I do not, however, mention "Throw the Snake" and its raw powers, therefore I do not mention when the Coyotes won. I did, however, drop the line that the Sens beat the Pens and that made her stop in shock.
I get through my first duty, walk uptown (in a black suit, mind you) and report for my second shift, throwing freight (pretty much in the same suit, only untucked and unbuttoned). Somehow I survive the eight hours though my stomach feels a similar sensation to the dude who took a cannonball to the chops and had it filmed, except the only cameras around me are security cameras trying to prove the night team's a bunch of dirty, rotten scoundrels.
I finally clock off and head to get some coffee because I deserve it. There, off in the distance, is a man who I've probably seen fifty times before but never said anything to. The reason I noticed him this time was very simple: He was letting his playoff fever spring eternal in the form of a Bobby Lu jersey. I gave him a "We Are All Canucks" before I progressed into what now was the least important part of my day in hitting on a hot barista, knowing full well that playoff fever was about to spread like wildfire, like someone was about to drop a diesel tanker on a forest fire.
It happened this morning: The dream of the Stanley Cup Playoffs was realized. God, let it be tonight. let it loose tonight, and let it shine tonight.