Heard in the dressing room following my game in the WOHL last Thursday night (and proving, with a chuckle, that truth is stranger than fiction):
Story #1: As a youngster, one of my teammates indicated at the age of 9, he let off a bunch of firecrackers in his closet at home. He had taped a bunch of lady fingers to the wings of a model airplane (c’mon, who hasn’t done this?) and let ’em rip. When I asked him if he was in the closet when he let them off, he replied “I’m not THAT stupid”. Classic. The kicker? “And my parents did beat me for that one” he noted.
Story #2: A different teammate recounted a story from a summer cottage where the leftovers from a family fireworks celebration were gathered in a box but instead of being discarded permanently, were put somewhere where they were rescued the following summer by one of those crazy uncles (c’mon, who doesn’t have one of those?) who promptly threw the entire box on the bonfire at one point in the evening. Fireworks ensued shortly thereafter, literally, and from the scale of them it was evident that not even close to all of them had been used up the prior summer.