[dc]D[/dc]ad is a fan of the saying, “It’s the journey, not the destination.” He said this to me several times on New Year’s Day as we attended the 2014 NHL Winter Classic at the Big House in Ann Arbor. Our journey, especially my own to and from Ann Arbor, was full of thrills, chills, and misadventures.
And, it was a hell of a time.
Our view. Yes, it was snowing.
“Hi Dad. I’m in a Ditch.”
Dad and I agreed to meet at Briarwood Mall in Ann Arbor and grab a shuttle to the Big House. I drove from Lansing, Dad rode with a couple of friends from Detroit. The roads weren’t too bad heading from Lansing. But, a quarter-inch of snow might as well be a foot in my case. I hate driving in the snow.
The only thing worse than driving in the snow? Spinning out into ditch along the road. Which happened. To me. Yes.
I moved from the left lane to the right, and felt my car start to spin. Slide. CRUNCH. In a ditch. Lucky as I am, I did not hit anyone or anything, and both my car and I were injury free. I was just in a ditch, facing the wrong way on the road.
I called Dad. “Hi, I’m in a ditch.”
Have Frisbee, Will Shovel
I told Dad I would try to work myself out (and said the same to a couple of drivers who stopped to see if I was OK). A Frisbee in my trunk made for an improvised snow shovel. I dug my wheels out. Then, after a bunch of back and forth, got my car out of the ditch—but I was still facing the wrong way.
Moving with the grace of a bathtub on wheels, I made perhaps the longest and slowest U-turn ever. Free of the ditch, I continued on to Ann Arbor. Rattled. Sweaty. Cold.
Everywhere a Line
The shuttle system from Briarwood Mall to the Big House was an absolute joke. I don’t know if the NHL set up the Winter Classic shuttles or someone else, but mismanaged doesn’t even begin to describe what I saw. Signage or staff telling people where to go was non-existent. I walked around the mall asking people, and we all went on second, third, or fourth-hand information. I ended up in a line for 15 minutes before I found it I needed wrist bands to even be in that line.
I found another line outside of the mall, which I heard led to the shuttle wristbands. A few minutes later, again, no. Someone pointed to a third line. This was around 11:30 AM. The game started at 1 PM. No sooner had I approached the third line, when a staff person said to folks towards the middle: “If you are here or just getting in line—walk to the stadium. They won’t have enough wristbands for you by the time you get through.”
Instead of taking the shuttle bus, myself, and many more Winter Classic attendees walked the two miles to the stadium.
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