Yesterday after work a friend and I drove to Nashville to watch a Nashville Predators hockey game. I don't normally ever watch any sporting events, but the tickets were free, I thought it'd be something different.

We stopped at Murfreesboro and ate at a Sonic drive-in, and marveled at the cars parked in the lot at the Dollar General Store adjacent. Each of those automobiles were late model cars and were probably purchased on credit. Possibly explained why the folks driving them were reduced to shopping at Dollar General.

So, eat, drink, be merry, watch a hockey game, for tomorrow's another work day. To be truthful, I drank water, and my friend drank a malt.

Our seats at the game were, I kid you not, one row below the rafters. The best way to be an invisible man at a Nashville Predators game is to wear a team jersey, jeans, and a ball-cap. The crowd knew all the words to various chants and songs blaring from loudspeakers, knew hand movements, and when to wave the free t-shirts every spectator was handed upon entering the venue.

Half-naked women came out and danced, badly - I think they were cheer-leader/spokes-model types - on a carpet rolled out during an intermission. Of course, that was my favorite part of the evening's program. They appeared smaller than toys from the rafters, but their images were projected upon a screen suspended above the icy arena far below us. Later on, the women were sent into the arena to pass out gift cards to O'Charley's restaurants good for one free slice of caramel-something pie. They looked a little scared as fans demanded more of the coupons for people in some of the rows, and looked relieved when they finished the distribution.

We left shortly after the end of the second intermission in order to return to Stepford by a reasonable hour.