Brandon

Brandon is a small town, two hours away from Winnipeg in Manitoba. I visited last week, to see my grandparents. While I was there, we went to a hockey game, which was Calgary against Brandon.Me, being from Calgary, was rooting for the Hitmen, and that is where my story begins. In case you have never been to a hockey game, they have contests. Every so often, the people who run the game will put someone on the giant screen over the ice and ask them some questions. I, being the lucky person I am, was asked if I wanted to participate. Me, knowing that you would typically get free stuff, was all for it. After the first period, I was on. My host introduced me and we started. It was the easiest game there was. They had 3 helmets and a puck. They put the puck under one helmet and the game was on. They started twirling all the cups around, trying to lose me. Me, being a genetic prodigy at this sort of thing, guessed right. I was awarded a Brandon hat, which was not the team I was cheering for. I sat down, happy enough to be able to add to my seemingly neverending pile of hats. And then the second period ended. I was sitting down, hiding my hat, when suddenly I heard the sound of tires. It was time for the T-Shirt cannon. People were in the aisles, seemingly in a trance to catch a shirt. The mascot was firing shirts everywhere, and I was trying not to get squished. The mascot looked at my aisle, and then straight at me. I could tell what was happening from a mile away. He primed the cannon and fired. I watched the T-Shirt fly as it headed straight towards me. It landed nicely in my hands, and I was so confused. Had he not saw me win? I tried to give it to the guy behind me, but he was a Calgary fan, like me. The people in front were either asleep or helplessly drunk, so it was my shirt. I was less than thrilled, but at least it was free stuff.