Peanut butter Jory time

Welcome to Chicago Canucks fans!

It’s windy here, as advertised, and we lost two-hours en route, so it’s dark already. Otherwise, what a city!

The hotel is gorgeous, the view from my room is even gorgeouser and the three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I nabbed from Air Canucks are the gorgeousest.

Normally I blog while traveling, but some days the words just aren’t there and today was one of those days. I stared out the window into a thick mess of gray clouds for a long time; I couldn’t see anything and I could see everything. I was as sharp as a bag of wet mice all flight. And no, Jack Black didn’t do something funky to the coffee before Dave Grohl served it to me. I ride dinosaurs as often as I drink coffee.

I was going to live-blog the flight, or at least time stamp entries throughout the afternoon to explain what was going on, but the Canucks are on a new plane these days and it’s very divided. There’s a first class, then another first class, then the players, then the trainers. It’s all first class really, the plane is pimped out with wood paneling and the sink in the washroom may have been marble.

For some reason Jeff Vinnick and I were row 1 in first class with enough legroom a lion could have slept in between my feet and the wall in front. The only time I saw any Canucks was when they boarded – and yes, I got the gears from every one of them about being in the front of the plane.

I took full advantage by sleeping most of the flight. I also played Guess the Celeb Booty from whatever girly magazine Rory McGarry was reading. I went 0-for-8, which I think I’m rather proud of.

And now, presto, we’re at the hotel. The Canucks will grab a bite to eat and rest up for what is going to be an epic game Tuesday night at the United Center.

We’ve got a Behind the Lens gallery coming tonight and I just finished texting a very important someone who will likely play a part in’s coverage of tomorrow’s events…

Anything I should know about Chicago before I head out for a sandwich?


P.S. – Turbulence turns me into a 12-year-old girl, and that’s an insult to 12-year-old girls. Sorry Jada. (Just an FYI for anyone flying with me in the future).