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Hearing about the massive snowfall in Buffalo this week brought back a lot of memories of driving to and from games in Buffalo in blizzards. I told one of those stories a few months ago in a memorial blog about the recent passing of my dearest friend, Terry Johnson.
To recap the story for those who didn't see the original blog, Terry used to drive me to and attended every game I refereed in Detroit, Toronto, Buffalo and Ottawa. One time, we drove in a blizzard for a night game in Buffalo. It took us six hours in white out conditions just from the Skyway in Hamilton. We went across the Peace Bridge going down the wrong lane.
Thankfully, all the customs guys at the border knew my brother. They recognized me as I waved my NHL referee sweater at them, and we were allowed in through a station that was closed. The customs agent hollered at me, "Just take it easy on the Sabres tonight, OK?" and then directed us through to expedite our way over the border.
As we got close to the area, I realized that I wouldn't have time to get dressed in my uniform at the arena... and that was assuming we even got there in time. I started to get a little nervous. I dressed in the Datsun 240Z -- which wasn't easy -- and hustled into the arena.
I put my skates on the zamboni pit as the national anthem singer performed the Star Spangled Banner. I finished and stepped out onto the ice just as the singer reached "and the hoooome... of the.... braaaaave."
Other than my fellow officials and Terry, the only one who was aware of what happened was former Sabres player Danny Gare, who was doing a pregame TV segment in the Zamboni pit area.
Anyway, in my 40 years in hockey, I have experienced way more than my share of traveling through severe winter storms all around North America and more recently, in Europe. I even once got stranded with my fellow NHL officials once for a few days because of a freak blizzard in Raleigh, NC.
I've seen so much snow, ice and snow drifts in my hockey travels and New England upbringing that maybe I should be sponsored by the Weather Channel. Without exaggeration, I could rattle off a month's worth of blogs and a lengthy chapter of my upcoming autobiography just on weather-related stories if I was so inclined.
That would probably get monotonous pretty quickly, though. So let's cut to the tale of what was perhaps my most memorable blizzard-related experience.
While I was in the process of working my way up to the NHL as a referee, I worked a slew of junior games in the Western Hockey League. One night, I found myself in Regina, Saskatchewan, during one of the worst blizzards I have ever seen. I barely made it to my hotel. Shortly thereafter, I contacted the Calgary-based league office and found out the Pats game had been canceled (that tells you something right there). Not even trucks could get through.
With virtually nothing to do -- the TV wasn't working in the hotel that day -- I went down to the front desk and asked if there were any restaurants nearby.
"Your best bet is to stay here at the bar," I was told.
That didn't particularly interest me.
"Is there anything to do downtown?" I asked.
"Well, most things you might want to do are down at the mall but it's closed."
"OK," I said. "Are there any activities at all around here today I can get myself to?"
"Actually, there's a bingo night going on just down the road. It'll be packed tonight."
Under the circumstances, that sounded good to me. I'd never played bingo before -- really had no idea what went on in a bingo hall -- and figured at least it might be some interesting people watching and a different sort of life experience.
Was it ever!
I get to the bingo parlor and, as described, the place is mobbed. Almost everyone there was from a First Nation community. The cigarette smoke was so thick and the air in the place so stale that I could hardly breathe. When I walked up to the desk, I was handed a bingo dauber.
"How much do I owe you for it?" I asked, not even sure yet what it was or how it was used.
The woman laughed. "It's free. Have you ever played bingo before?"
"Umm, no," I admitted.
She gave me a quick crash course. I thanked her and settled in. Didn't win a thing but came close a few times.
Two other players, both female, sat next to me. I made some casual small talk with the two women and tried to go on about my night of losing repeatedly at bingo.
"You ain't from around here, are you?" asked one of the women.
"No, I'm not," I said. "I'm traveling."
"What brought you here?" asked the other.
"Hockey," I said.
"Hockey?" they said in unison. "We love hockey! Do you play?"
"I used to," I said. "Played in the NHL for Quebec. Now I'm a referee. I was supposed to ref the Pats game tonight but it got canceled."
In the meantime, I felt my already cramped personal space getting less and less. I tried to be polite but it was starting to make me uncomfortable.
"So where are you staying?" one asked.
I told her.
"Oh," she cooed. "That's a nice hotel."
Now, let's stop the story for a second. These two women had maybe six teeth between them and weighed approximately a deuce and three quarters apiece. One of them kept pouring mystery contents from a metal flask to give her beer more alcohol kick. Both reeked of cigarettes and body odor.
Praying that they didn't have in mind what I increasingly suspected they did, I made one final attempt at polite small talk.
"Yeah, the hotel is alright," I said. "The damn TV isn't working, though."
"Oh, that's OK," woman number two said. "I'll keep you entertained."
"Excuse me just for a moment please," I said. "I have to go to the bathroom."
"Hurry back," she said.
I walked away in increasingly fast steps and then broke into a full sprint through the snow back to the hotel, leaving the dauber behind. I'd already had quite enough entertainment for one evening, thanks.
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Paul Stewart holds the distinction of being the first U.S.-born citizen to make it to the NHL as both a player and referee. On March 15, 2003, he became the first American-born referee to officiate in 1,000 NHL games.
Today, Stewart is an officiating and league discipline consultant for the Kontinental Hockey League (KHL) and serves as director of hockey officiating for the Eastern College Athletic Conference (ECAC).
The longtime referee heads Officiating by Stewart, a consulting, training and evaluation service for officials. Stewart also maintains a busy schedule as a public speaker, fund raiser and master-of-ceremonies for a host of private, corporate and public events. As a non-hockey venture, he is the owner of Lest We Forget.
In addition to his blogs for HockeyBuzz every Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, Stewart writes a column every Wednesday for the Huffington Post.