Get a Free Ticket to the Hockey Game!
It was winter, and snowflakes were falling from the night sky.
Elise Minteral happily snapped the final picture of the Winter Palace with her phone, gazing at its beautiful architecture.
A smile of satisfaction lingered on her trembling lips, quivering from the cold.
“There, there, so beautiful.”
It can now be added to her collection on IGG travels, taking another glance at the screen of her phone.
“Privet, molodaya ledi, vy inostranka?”
Suddenly, a middle-aged Russian man with kind eyebrows approached her, looking very friendly.
The sudden appearance of a complete stranger a few feet away from her made Elise Minteral tense up a bit.
Even so, sensing that the older man wasn’t hostile, she looked back in silence, trying to analyze what he had just said.
She hadn’t fully caught his words from a moment ago, but still, she offered her greeting with a soft smile.
“Privet…”
“Vy govorite po-russki ili po-angliyski?”
Not fully understanding the meaning of all the words due to her limited knowledge of Russian, Elise Minteral recognized one word well enough to respond.
“I can speak… Angliyski. English, sir.”
“Da, da, khorosho, khorosho,” the older man said with a warm smile, his thick Russian accent making his English sound deliberate.
He nodded slightly, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners. “It is okay, young lady. This old man knows English, even if it is just a little.”
“May I ask how I can help you, sir?”
“Da! I am talking to you, you see. I have to go home now, which means I cannot attend the game, but I do not wish to waste this ticket.”
Lifting a yellow ticket in front of her with his warm gloved hand, he extended it toward Elise Minteral.
“I would like to give it to you.”
Staring at the ticket being handed to her, Elise Minteral looked back at the older man, unsure if he was truly serious.
Once she was convinced, she nodded with a smile, reaching out with her right hand, covered in soft, woolen gloves, to accept it.
“Spasibo.”
“Da, very well, young lady. Please have a wonderful night.”
With that warm farewell, the older man left with long strides, ensuring he wouldn’t linger and make Elise Minteral uncomfortable with the presence of an unfamiliar old stranger.
Ice Palace… Russian Junior Hockey League – Semi-Finals?
Hockey?
Elise Minteral thought for a moment.
She wasn’t a fan of hockey, though she’d seen it more than once on social media, it never held her attention.
In fact, she usually ignored it altogether.
Her interest in sports was elsewhere—she preferred volleyball far more.
But since a kind stranger had given it to her, she decided not to waste the opportunity.
As the saying goes, free things are often the best!
Glancing at the time on her phone, which clearly indicated 6:30 PM on Friday, Elise Minteral realized it was still early to head back to her hotel.
There was still a chance to have fun and watch the game live, her very first hockey match.
Arriving just on time before the game began, Elise Minteral joined the bustling crowd streaming toward the entrance.
The energy in the air was infectious.
It was a lovely atmosphere, and she couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness, swept up in the excitement of others, who were surely all devoted hockey fans.
Tickets were being scanned one by one with a faint mechanical beep, each sound adding to the rhythm of delightful anticipation.
Groups of friends, from young to older, chatted animatedly in Russian, their laughter occasionally rising above the constant hum of conversation.
Some clutched scarves or jerseys bearing the team’s colors, their smiles all over the place.
Passing by the security personnel, they greeted Elise Minteral briefly, and she nodded back politely, doing her best not to act like a first-timer in such a place.
As a foreign national visiting their country, she was doing her best not to mess anything up.
After all, Elise Minteral was just here for two weeks of vacation.
Stepping inside, she was blasted by the icy air, which hit her soft face with a chill.
In the background, Russian pop music blared over the speakers, filling the arena with vibrant enthusiasm.
A sea of people walked past her, but what truly caught Elise Minteral’s attention was when her gaze fell upon the rink—bright and pristine, surrounded by pounding boards and flashing screens.
Hockey players skated out for warm-ups, blades slicing the ice with crisp precision, like dancers twirling on stage.
As if they were beautiful snowflakes in her dark eyes, drifting gracefully through the air—perfect and delicate before settling onto the ice.
“It’s so beautiful. I should take a shot.” Elise Minteral whispered, eager to capture the moment and have more images to take back home.
She quickly opened her bag to grab her phone, but suddenly a restless group of teenage girls in their beloved hockey jerseys bumped into her.
The phone slipped from her hand and crashed down the arena stairs.
'Eh?'
Shocked for a moment, it didn’t take long for Elise Minteral to react.
She quickly stepped down the stairs with hurried, anxious steps, her heart racing, praying her phone wouldn’t be damaged.
No, not her phone—she couldn’t let it break.
It had been recently bought in cash, and it had cost her thousands of dollars!
Behind her, the group of girls continued speaking rapidly in Russian, their facial expressions showing clear annoyance and displeasure.
One girl rolled her eyes, clearly irritated. “Why are you even in the way?”
“It’s your fault, not ours.” Another shot back.
“Let’s go, girls. Let’s have our seats, hurry!” The third girl urged, brushing past the incident without a second thought, completely unconcerned about bumping into anyone else.
Elise Minteral, still standing there, watched the group of girls walk away.
Not a single word they said was something she understood clearly, or maybe she hadn’t heard them properly due to the distance.
Shrugging it off in the back of her mind, she focused on what was important.
What mattered was that her phone had only a small crack at the top left corner—nothing too large—and she let out a sigh of relief.
“Foreign, da?”
Hearing someone speak English nearby, Elise Minteral looked up from her phone and met the beautiful ocean-blue eyes of a good-looking middle-aged woman.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Da, here to watch the game?”
The warmth in the older woman’s gaze reminded Elise Minteral of her beloved mother, far away in her homeland.
And when she looked into those ocean-blue eyes, so beautiful and full of sincerity, she couldn’t look away.
“Yes, I got a free ticket.” Her words were soft, almost shy.
Perhaps it was because the older woman was taller than her, or maybe it was the way she always felt when speaking to someone older.
“Hm... that’s good for you. What’s your seat number?”
Elise Minteral suddenly remembered.
Yes, she needed to know her seat number.
She retrieved the ticket and showed it to the older woman, revealing the seat number: A13, right in the front row, offering the closest view of the rink.
“Krasivo, moya dorogaya, ty ryadom so mnoy.”
Of course, Elise Minteral didn’t understand what the other person had just said, except for “moya,” which meant “my” in Russian.
She tried to mask her confusion with a polite smile, but her face was like an open book, and it clearly showed signs of adorable uncertainty.
The older woman, noticing the confusion, laughed gracefully and translated.
“I said, beautiful, my dear, you are next to me. I am going to A14.”
