It takes quite a bit of effort to be seen as something new in Las Vegas.  Sunday night, I found a way to draw attention from even the most jaded.

People smiled, cameras clicked, and high-fives abounded as I walked around Freemont Street in downtown Las Vegas.  Even the true buskers were giving me dap.

In the 100-degree heat, far from any ice, there I was: a hockey goalie in full gear on the street.

On Fremont Street in Las Vegas, in the summer, in full ice hockey goalie gear. The jersey is from my beer league team last season, the Wingmen.

And why not?  There were, after all, street performers of all sorts on the street already. Robots, statues, SpongeBob, Elvis, a newlywed couple complete with fake solid champagne, at least two Michael Jacksons, and several Spider-Mans were there, just to name a few.  No hockey goalies, though, at least not until I showed up.

You might recall that I tweeted about the concept of a hockey goalie street performer back when I arrived in Vegas.  I thought it would be hilarious to follow through, but I needed a good excuse.  Enter my friend Blake.

Me: “Hey Blake, I have a favor to ask.  I need you to bet me that I won’t walk around Las Vegas in my goalie gear. Stakes: a beer.”

Blake: “Haha! Ok, I bet you a six-pack of your choice that you won’t walk around Las Vegas in your goalie gear.”

Perfect.

After playing a two-hour pickup game earlier in the day at the Las Vegas Ice Center, I returned to my downtown hotel to prepare. It was around sunset, but the temperature was still over 100 degrees, so I decided to make a few changes to reduce my chances of heat exhaustion.  I went without two of the warmer pieces of gear:  no knee pads and no neck guard.  I didn’t expect to make any saves on the street, but I still wanted to be reasonably protected in case a joker lobbed a hard object in my direction, so all of the other pads were there.

Skates were considered briefly, but hiking boots won.  Have you ever tried walking a significant distance in skates? Painful.

Getting dressed took only a few minutes.  Working up the courage to go out in public like that took a bit longer.  I stood at my hotel room door for a while, debating whether to follow through.

It wasn’t like it was illegal to walk around as a goalie. It wasn’t even that novel: videos on YouTube here, here, here, here, and here all show people who have done it before.  Heck, it’s been done as a beer promotion.

Would my friends and family think me crazy?  I mean, they already think that goalies are a bit crazy, but would this raise new eyebrows?

Finally, I took a deep breath, charged towards the door, opened it, and hustled out before I could change my mind.  Once I was in the hallway, I felt committed, and everything became easy.

Fremont Street and its “Fremont Street Experience” is the most popular location for tourism and gambling in downtown Las Vegas. (For those unfamiliar, the Strip is a few miles south of downtown and not technically in Las Vegas.)  I set course for the heart of it.

In the few blocks I walked from my hotel to Fremont Street, I got numerous thumbs-up, honks from car horns, and fist bumps.  People waved, and I waved back with my catcher.  It felt like I was portraying a mascot.  I was obligated to be a good ambassador for goalies everywhere.

Two guys, Spencer and Jake, struck up a conversation with me.  They were hockey fans, and they thought that what I was doing was great.  They liked the idea of the trip, too.  I was out there for fun, not for making money, but Spencer insisted on giving me $20, thus tripling my cumulative income from the trip. Thanks Spencer!

I continued my walk down Fremont street.  Everywhere I went, cameras pointed, flashes flashed, mouths smiled, and people pointed.  A few people chatted with me about Minnesota, hockey, and hockey in Minnesota.

As I mentioned earlier, several of the true buskers that I passed talked me up and thought my idea was great.  Most of them wouldn’t believe that I really wasn’t doing it to earn money.  Spider-Man told me that I was “going to do REALLY well with [my “costume”] tonight.”

Speaking of money, as I was passing Binion’s, I noticed that one of the security guards was looking my way.  I decided to take advantage of the opportunity, and he agreed to let me go in the casino to have my photo taken with one of their draws, $1,000,000 cash.  I think I might be the only goalie to ever be photographed next to that much cash.

Me in my goalie gear at Binion's $1,000,000 cash pile

Several people posed for photos with me, which I found very amusing.  I was sweating profusely, and besides, my gear was still wet from the day’s earlier hockey game.  I couldn’t have smelled very good.

I have to imagine that at least a few of those photos will pop up on the interwebs eventually.  Finding them will be the challenge.  I’d love to hear about any that are out there.

During the Fremont Street Experience light show. Hard to tell, but the people in the background are smiling, looking my way, and holding cameras.

After about an hour and a half, I decided to call it a night.  I was getting really hot, and besides, I had accomplished my goal: I’d shown Vegas something new.  And won my (admittedly contrived) bet.

Will Las Vegas ever get another goalie on the streets?  I’m not sure, but I have some advice for any would-be imitators: do it when it’s cooler out.

I’m going to blame this one on good beer.   Or maybe good hockey.  Allow me to explain.

There was a stick-and-puck time at the Winterhawks Skating Center near Portland, OR.  I was on the ice, as were a couple of other goalies and a decent number of skaters.  The skaters were taking good shots, and several of them even spent some time working with me on goaltending drills.  It was a good session.

I took a break by the boards for a couple of minutes, during which I chatted up one of the other adults on the ice, a guy named Dave. (Yes, many of the skaters were adults, which was another nice change.)  Dave mentioned that there would be a really great pickup game the following night in nearby Vancouver, WA and invited me to go. I explained that my schedule forced me to decline, but I took the chance to ask him about other fun things to do in the Portland area.  “The Brewfest,” he said.

Portland is famous for the quantity and quality of its microbreweries.  The Brewfest, also known as the Oregon Brewers Festival, is an annual celebration of beer held in downtown Portland.  Over 80 beers are on tap for sampling.

After the stick-and-puck ended, I stowed my gear, hopped on a light-rail train, and headed downtown to drink some beer.  A short while later, the train arrived at a park along the river’s edge in Portland.

I got out and immediately saw a problem: the line to get in the Brewfest stretched more than a block.  What’s more, the festival itself seemed to be little more than a huge beer tent.  A tightly packed beer tent.

My enthusiasm for the Brewfest suddenly waned.

A good day for sailing in Portland with Mt. Hood in the background.

Instead, I decided to walk around downtown Portland for a while.  As I strolled along, I couldn’t help but notice the number of people wearing green.  Bars and restaurants were flying similar colors.  “What a coordinated city,” I thought.  Then I realized that all of the green was in celebration and support of a single group: the Timbers.  But who or what were they?

(continued at Part 2)

Remember back a few posts ago where I said I hadn’t earned any money from the trip yet? Well, I’m happy to report that’s changed.  I’m a pro goalie now!

The arena in Seattle threw me $10 for goaltending at the lunch drop-in.  You read that right: I’m earning two figures, baby!  That fat cash will cover at least one skate sharpening, maybe two.  Woo!

I wonder if this means that I can now write off the trip as a business expense.  Hmm…

A few days ago, I played the most low-key hockey of the trip so far: a stick-and-puck session at the arena in Whitehorse, Yukon.  The Yukon is technically a territory, so it doesn’t really count in my “every state and every province” goal, but I figured I might as well bag it anyway.

The session was during lunchtime on a weekday, which meant that (yet again) there were mostly kids there.  However, as it was a “family” stick-and-puck, there were a couple of parents, too.

I was the only goalie on the ice.  One of the kids, maybe 10 years old, actually thanked me for showing up, because “It’s a lot more fun to have a goalie to shoot on.”  Glad I could help, kid!

I figured I should check Alaska off of my hockey list while in Fairbanks.  The only other option in Alaska with ice would have been Anchorage, and that would have necessitated a mad dash from Denali NP to the city in time for a weekday lunchtime game.  Thus, I found myself at the Patty Ice Arena on the University of Alaska-Fairbanks campus Thursday evening.

I had learned my lesson in Calgary, so when I called ahead for the Fairbanks pickup game, I made sure to ask about reservations for goalies.

“It’s first come, first served,” said the rink attendant.

“Even for goalies?”

“Even for goalies. The last few sessions, we’ve only had one show up, so it shouldn’t be a problem tonight.”

“Great!”

I showed up about an hour early and took my time getting ready.  Another goalie showed up about 15 minutes later.  Then 5 minutes after that, a third goalie arrived. “No problem,” I thought, “We’ll just rotate, and we’ll each still get about 40 minutes of ice time.” Then the fourth goalie showed up.

Judging by the changing room banter, most of the guys had been accepted to or were trying out for junior hockey teams.  None of them could legally drink, and a few weren’t even of the age of majority, so I was the oldest by nearly a decade.  Awkward.  Not only that, but the other goalies spoke in a way that implied them to be at a similar level of skill to the skaters, so I was apprehensive about being totally shown up.

We took the ice, and after a non-existent warm-up, the game began.  It took me a goal to figure out that the teams were essentially “colors” versus “grays.”  It was confusing as all get out to discern between the guy wearing navy blue and the guy on the other team wearing black.

Among us four goalies, we decided to rotate on every goal.  Specifically, a pair of goalies took each end, and whenever the goalie on the ice at one end let in a goal, that goalie would go to the bench and his partner would come on.  Sounded reasonable.  I just hoped that my shifts wouldn’t be embarrassingly short.

It turned out that I had nothing to worry about.  You know how nobody plays defense at drop-in games?  And you know how 2-on-0s are nearly impossible for a goalie to stop when they are executed correctly?

Yeah.  All four of us goalies got lit up.  We were rotating so often that we started rotating only every other goal, and even then we got only a minute or two on the bench before heading back out.  I felt like a skater going out for shifts.

I did make a number of solid saves.  A couple of aggressive poke checks worked out, too, so it wasn’t a complete embarrassment.   And when I did stop some of those numerous breakaways and 2-0s from the hotshot youngsters? It was a great feeling.

Next hockey: Whitehorse, Yukon in a week and a half.  With luck, one of these times I’ll be able to write about how I got a “shinny shutout” instead of how much of a sieve I was (haha).