You can hear the excitement start to linger as the early morning train departs.
Finally at the station everyone rushes toward the exit like Kaner on a breakaway to the goal.
We all walked to Grant Park like little kids running after an ice cream truck.
You are a part of the sea of red walking through the gates surrounded by police.
Finally, we made it. We are inside the park.
We ran through huge crowds pushing and shoving trying to get to the corner of the street like Andrew Shaw searching for the puck in front of the net.
We all waited anxiously to see our favorite players.
There it is, it’s the Stanley Cup. I can see it shining like the pregame ice on “The Madhouse on Madison”.
You try to take pictures as people scream and jump to get a closer look.
It’s “The” Jonathan Toews, captain of The Chicago Blackhawks, raising ‘The Cup’ to kiss it.
You can see the pride of the 3 million fans as confetti is shot when the players drive by celebrating.
It’s over and you try to get out of the park like Marian Hossa skating out of the penalty box.
You’re stuck in the train station not able to move, surrounded by smelly loud fans for two hours.
Finally the doors open and people push and shove like they are in a hockey fight.
You run onto the train weaving through people to try and save a seat for your friends just as Patrick sharp weaves through players to score goals.
As you leave the station you see everyone slip down into their seats like they just got hit in the face with a puck.