This week Joe and I are both off work so we’re having what I’m calling the ‘Boughner family extravaganza.’

We had Thanksgiving on Sunday and watched the Jets’ home opener, we went out to Saunders Farm on Monday and explored. Today, the little one went to day care and I spent the morning catching up on my sleep, then we went out for lunch as a couple and ended the day at the Senators’ home opener.

The game was pretty good, though not great. The Sens ended up winning in a shoot out and there were some good plays, and really bad ones. I knew I was going to be hearing the booing and nastiness directed towards Heatley, so I had prepared myself for that, but something else entirely came up.

I had no idea that the Senators were going to have cheerleaders this year. (I don’t actually know if they refer to them as cheerleaders or a dance team, but they were women in groups of threes scattered through the crowd dancing during breaks trying to get the crowd involved).

I am generally not a fan of cheerleaders at hockey games. Hockey games generally move too fast for the distraction, but I digress.

These women didn’t bother me too much. They weren’t blocking my view at all and they were dressed in white t-shirts with the Sens’ logo and long black pants.

When these women came to our section and started dancing I was totally unprepared for the reaction of the men sitting beside me and in front of me. One of them actually yelled “Take it off!” and they started cracking jokes about these women – that their dancing would be better if they didn’t wear a bra next time, debating which one was hottest, and then one of them said something akin to ‘if there’s grass on the field, play ball.’

They thought they were hilarious. Meanwhile, I was sitting there – a woman – with my little girl in my lap. In front of them there was a man with his young son, maybe 9 years old, who decided to condone the behaviour by not saying anything to them.

I sat there not having any idea how to react. These were our seats, we were going to be there through two more periods (and overtime as it turned out), these guys had all been drinking. If I were to say something to them, would I put myself at risk or force my husband into a bad situation?

If my daughter was older and could really understand the situation would I have reacted differently? I think so.

I should not have to hear them talking like that, those women who were there doing a job (and, it appeared, quite enjoying themselves) should not have to put up with that, but what in that bit of time and space could I have said or done to make these men understand that they were being stupid and offensive and rude and thoughtless and, frankly, assholes?

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