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A Saturday spent chasing the Stanley Cup in D.C.

One thing that Kristi and I have certainly struggled with over these past few months is how we’ve felt that our lives have been slipping away from us. That we’re quickly losing our newly acquired attitude, perspective, and joie-de-vivre that we found while traveling throughout the world last year.

Just recently, my mom’s friend unexpectedly passed away. She was young. And while we shouldn’t need a jolt of perspective to keep us oriented, it served as a reminder that life is short, to cherish what makes you happy, and to have great adventures (whether large or small) with the ones that you love.

I always find that when I have great experiences in my life, I remember them better if I write them down. Saturday (yesterday) was a memory to go down in the books. Due to the spontaneity and circumstances, it probably ranks as one of the best Saturdays ever.

***

Yesterday morning I was experiencing some serious FOMO (“fear of missing out”). The last 12 hours of my Twitter feed and Instagram stories were filled with Caps players and fans partying out in Arlington. I despondently kept scrolling. Our old stomping grounds. A sea of red. Chants of happiness. We were missing out.

I begrudgingly put down my phone, and we drove to the Richmond Farmer’s Market. The RVA Farmer’s Market is home to some incredible local food — Heritage pork chops, grass-fed local beef — things that I would usually get giddy about, but my mind was elsewhere. Kristi noticed this, and feeling her own disappointment, suggested that we just drive up to DC and chase the cup. F- it. “Why not?” she said. “What else were we going to do on a Saturday — sit by the pool and follow the party remotely? Let’s go! Carpe, the damn, diem.”

So with that we rushed back to our apartment, showered, and packed an overnight bag. No agenda at hand. No hotel booked. No idea where the Cup would be. Just go.

(The following is a retroactive diary of the day’s remaining events)

1:30 pm: Car loaded. I check I-95 North traffic and unsurprisingly, the trip is already going to take an extra 45-minutes longer.

1:31pm: Me: “Should um, we still be doing this?”

Kristi: “Yes.”

As we make our way up 95, the traffic ebbs and flows. We pass the time by listening to a Capitals victory podcast from JapersRinkRadio. We make a few calls to friends. Talk about logistics of the evening, but ultimately get no where.

“Let’s just continue to go with the flow”, I say. “We can figure out the hotel later.”

Now for those that know me, this is big. I’m a planner. Out. of. the. ordinary. But it’s time to let go. Have faith and trust.

3:55 pm: I pull into my secret spot in D.C. that doesn’t have parking restrictions and open up HotelsTonight to find a last minute hotel in the city.

4:01 pm: HotelTonight booked.

4:40 pm: Bags are dropped off and we’re ready to go out. One problem — no sign of the Cup. We knew that the Caps were going to the Nationals baseball game and since they stayed the entire game drinking their faces off, we agree that they probably wouldn’t be out until later that tonight — “the players would be resting up.” (God were we wrong.)

We’re both getting hungry and figure that finding some food and a drink will help guide us throughout the night. I suggest Ramen since it’s 100 degrees out, but Kristi makes a face. (She doesn’t think eating hot soup when it’s already hot and humid makes sense, for some reason.) I then suggest our old standby, the Old Ebbitt Grill, for their seafood happy hour. We have fond memories from there and I figured, what better way to kick off the evening.

Again, Kristi shakes her head. “Let’s try the wharf,” she says.

5:12 pm: We arrive at the revitalized DC Wharf. When we lived in Arlington, construction was still ongoing, so it’s a new part of the city for us. A brand new Hank’s Oyster Bar greets us in all of its glory. As luck would have it, two seats are wide open at the bar.

We take advantage of their seafood happy hour and drinks. A dozen oysters here, smoked trout there. Tall-boy Narragansett lagers and Dirty Martinis cleanse our palette.

5:55 pm: Me: “I’d like an order of peel-and-eat shrimp next”

Bartender: “Tequila?

“No, shrimp.”

“I heard you say tequila?”

“Yes…yes you’re right. Tequila please.”

6:10 pm: The peel-and-eat shrimp arrive…of course, along with two shots of tequila (because that’s how the day will go).

6:34 pm: I receive a text that Ovi is doing keg stands out of the Stanley Cup. Me: “OMG. Where is that??? Are those blue awnings? I think that’s the Georgetown Waterfront!”

6:48 pm: Uber to Georgetown ordered. In all the excitement, I forget to take my credit card with me when we pay and have to run back to get it.

6:57 pm: We arrive *near* the Georgetown Waterfront and sprint the rest of the way due to traffic. I temporarily lose Kristi because she is running in flip-flops. She does not get mad, because she gets me.

7:00 pm: Annnnnnnd there it is. Sitting majestically at the feet of their Captain and Alternate Captain, who are perched along the railing of Tony and Joe’s. The Cup is at eye level for us on the ground behind them. Everyone seems to be just standing around taking pictures.

*I look around confused.*

“Why isn’t anyone touching it?” I think to myself,“Well that’s silly.”

*Proceeds to reach through Ovi’s legs to caress the cup*

“Wait, I should document this.”

*Proceeds to caress the cup AND take a picture.*

7:01 pm: Meanwhile, Kristi has somehow gotten the attention of Grubi and Carlson and is in full conversation. She’s explaining how they’re awesome and that we’ve traveled from Richmond to see them (because honestly, why the f- not). They’re impressed with this cute blonde’s dedication and hand her a beer. She then proceeds to chug the entire thing as they look on admiringly. I have never been so proud.

The next 20 minutes or so, we watch and just take in the scene. At this point, I’ve moved up to the railing next to the stairs where, bafflingly, there aren’t any fans. I stand there and beckon for Kristi to come up.

Brain: “ Matt, this is the entrance/exit where people are coming and going from this little impromptu party. Let’s just stake out up here.”

We watch Ovi, then Backstrom, then Wilson, and finally Lars take turns raising the Cup. Wilson starts a “Carlson Stay” chant. (John Carlson is a free agent this year). An incognito Travis Boyd walks by wearing round Harry Potter-like glasses and Madison Bowey acknowledges the crowd with a beyond-drunk grin. Orlov rejoins the party and passes next to me to get into the gated off area. I tell him “congrats.”

“Brain: “See!”

7:24pm: The Caps start to leave. They’re off to a dinner and I proceed to usher them out and congratulate each one of them as they make their way out from the party. I try to take a picture or two but notice I’m taking an upside down video instead. Which then freezes. (Thanks brain.) Thankfully, Kristi was standing on the other side of the exit, and perhaps because she just chugged John Carson’s beer, she did not have any of these issues.

As we leave to walk towards Georgetown proper, we noticed random guys in red Nats shirts and Championship Hats.

Me: “Oh! Is that Grubi??”

Kristi: “We couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks for the season!”

“Oh, is that John Carlson stumbling around?”

“Hey John! Photo?”

7:28 pm: We watch as John Carlson drunkenly chases down a taxi car that’s already full of hockey players. He proceeds to stop the taxi, open the back door, and wedge himself in across his teammates’ laps, clown-car style. God I love this team. Oh and #ResponsibleDrunks.

7:35 pm: Kristi and I catch our breath at the corner of M and Thomas Jefferson. My phone battery has died (#iPhone6Problems) and Kristi is texting her friends.

Life is good.

7:39 pm: Matt: “Um…Brooksy?!? Hey man, what’s up?”

Brooks Orpik (plus/minus playoff leader, shot-blocking specialist, and Alternate Captain): “Hey man, um….Wisconsin Ave is…um…that way, right?”

“Yep!”

“Cool man, thanks.”

“Hey, can we grab a photo? You played a great season and helluva defensive series. We appreciate it.”

A photo is taken and Orpik disappears down M Street.

Brain: “God…I hope that was the right direction to Wisconsin.”

At this point, things couldn’t have gotten any better. We’d gone with the flow the whole day and everything had just worked out. We put our intention out to the universe and let the cards falls as they may. We made decisions without over-analyzing them and kept a care-free attitude. There were no expectations that we’d find the cup but we were on this adventure together and that was all that mattered.

We decide to walk to the Georgetown Apple store to charge my phone.

7:47pm. Me: “Babe, is that Kuzy across the street? Holy crap it is! We need to say what’s up!”

7:47.15 pm: *The light changes to red, and Kuzy responsibly crosses the street. Kristi proceeds to high-five the 2017–2018 Stanley Cup leader in points*

Kristi: “Um…I could be wrong but I think that was blood on Kuzy’s shirt.”

As it turns out, the Capitals are having a celebratory dinner in a private section of Cafe Milano, which coincidentally, just so happens to be across the street from the Apple Store. I sit and charge my phone, and Kristi finally upgrades to a new one.

At this point, we decide that we have accomplished what we’ve wanted with the day. (Mild understatement.) We don’t need to see the Cup anymore, nor the excitement of the players. We had captured the moments that we wanted and formed this incredibly memorable adventure together.

8:04 pm: Rain starts to fall (it held off all day) and we make our way back down into Georgetown without an agenda. As the rain begins to increase, we take shelter at Bourbon Steak at the Four Seasons Hotel. And despite being incredibly under-dressed, we post up to the bar.

8:10 pm: Our Caps gear garnered attention and three gentlemen in suits strike up a conversation. One is a lifelong Caps fan and we fondly recount the month’s events. His eyes show a glimmer of excited and he says, “Do you want to see something cool? Check this out.”

(His phone comes out)

Lifelong Caps Fan: “All of the Caps were at Cafe Milano just a little bit ago and we were there eating dinner too! Look! Here we are! Here they are!”

His other friend smiles. Slightly stoic.

The lifelong Caps fan leans in towards me and Kristi. He slightly lowers his voice and nods toward his friend. “He works closely with Ovi so it wasn’t too much of a big deal but that’s how we were able to get in.”

We continue to wait out the rain storm and swap stories about the Capitals. I try to discover how and to what extent his stoic friend has a connections to Ovi but get nowhere. Kristi proceeds to make best friends with the other one and plugs her friend’s tour guiding business in Israel, because… alcohol.

10:30 pm: We decide to part ways and walk home.

The rain has cleared the humidity and it has become a beautiful night. A cool breeze guides us down I street. We pass by row homes and businesses. Kristi hangs off my shoulder and admires the DC architecture. We make our way past the White House and the familiarity of the area sends tingles of nostalgia throughout our bodies. It’s been a long day — the adrenaline is wearing off but we’re still riding a high.

We see the familiar lettering of the Old Ebbitt Grill and smile.

Glancing at our watches, it’s 11:54pm. We’re just in time for late night oyster happy hour. Why not.

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