An Aiport
"Why did they build this airport like an escape room?" I asked.We're at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport, on our way home from Duluth. After you drop off the rental car in this airport, you have to haul your crap (remember, all the goalie gear plus everything else we carried) through a maze of escalators and moving sidewalks.
"Okay, we just had to physically exit the terminal building, take mass transit from the City of Minneapolis, exit that, and get on the airport tram. Just to change terminals," I said. "What next? Are we going to be dropped from a zeppelin? Or will it be whitewater kayaking?"
It's hard carrying all the goalie stuff. It's all heavy, and it's all awkward. I was hauling an extra bag for Eli 16.11 through the airport, and I already had two bags, and we were walking for miles, it seemed, through this damn airport.
I honestly felt, for the very first time, that I just couldn't do this anymore.
It's a young man's game, and I'm just not. We've been through some hard trips this summer, with another one coming up at the end of July, and they've really taken a toll on me this time.
I recovered (not kidding, it took two days), and it's okay now, but I've never felt myself crack like that before.
Part of this, for sure, is that Eli has played really well most of the time at these tryout camps, and he's just not getting any attention. Not getting the kind of feedback he'd hoped for makes the trip back home that much harder.
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