When Haley and I first arrived in Vegas last Thursday evening for the women's hockey tournament we played in, we decided the first order of business should be to go to the grocery store and pick up supplies since our crappy hotel room actually had a kitchen. We ran down to the local Albertson's and grabbed some staples, plus a case of water to take with us to the games. When we went to the register to check out, the guy took one look at us and said, "Let me guess...hockey players?" That's when I realized that Haley and I looked like we were a gay couple (not that there's anything wrong with that). If you've never paid much attention to women's hockey, I can tell you that probably 50-60% of female hockey players are gay, at least the ones that play in women's hockey leagues. I had been lulled into a false sense of hetrosexuality of the sport because on my Los Angeles women's team, we have actually only one gay player. At any rate, Haley and I must have looked like a lesbian couple. And because I stand about a head taller than Haley, and she's all small and cute, it also became apparent that I was the dude. The first thing we said to the cash register guy was, "We're not gay." Then I thought, well, at least Hayley's cute. If I was a lesbian, at least I had a nice looking girlfriend. I'll tell you this, though - even though I knew it was a women's tournament, I did a lot of double takes at players who looked suspiciously like they had Y chromosomes.