Toronto, Canada

Eastern Conference, Hotel X

The team and I arrive at our hotel after a rather short flight up to the Hub City of Toronto. I know I'm quite vocal on the ice, but one has to be when they play the role that I do. I take pride in my agitating as a pest. Cedric Paquette is my roommate. He has been since the start of the season. You can say that we're too French-Canadian pals, but I don't necessarily find 'Ceddy' enjoyable. He's just a teammate and a veteran player.

I haul my stuff into the room -- room 337 (so funny, ha-ha.). I'm on the third floor of the hotel, stuck with a secretive womanizer veteran player. What could possibly go wrong...? I miss the days when my roommate was my best friend, Vladdy Namestnikov.

But he's in the Western Conference, a Colorado Avalanche forward.

And I am in the Eastern Conference with the Tampa Bay Lightning.

I have had to move on and find someone else. I get along with most of the team, but they have their own bromances. I don't really have a 'bromance' per-se, I'm just the team's wild, feisty tiger.

I flop down on the bed and look around. The room is nice. Usually when we journey to Toronto, we stay at a different hotel. But this one is fancy. There's two separate twin sized beds in the center of the room. A living area with a small three-person black couch and two red chairs on either side of it. There is also a coffee table and a long desk with a giant TV situated on top. There is also a fridge and a microwave installed into the desk.

I glance back toward the door to see Ceddy lugging his belongings inside.

"You're not going to just dump your shit off and leave me are you?" I grumble to him.

Ceddy grumbles back. "I'm going to drop off my shit and then I am going to go down to the lobby and find myself a lady to charm. You do you and I do me, that's just how it goes Gourdo."

I sigh. "You're also not married to a lovely woman like Marie."

"We shoulda just dropped you off at the zoo. Would have made more sense, you know." Ceddy drops his bags by the bed closest to the door and then turns and leaves the room once again.

"Typical," I mutter to myself with a roll of my eyes. "Day one: Ceddy dumps his roomie and gets laid in Toronto."

After a couple of hours, I receive a text message from Steven Stamkos, the captain of my NHL team. He is just reminding everyone to work hard in the playoffs, have fun and watch out from the other teams.

I look up and stare at the wall at that last part. "Watch out for the other teams?"

My phone vibrates again with another message.

"Play nice with the other teams too, that means you, Gourdo, Johnny and Jo!"

A smirk creeps onto my lips that I can't help. I put my phone face down on the bed and rub my hands together. Play nicely and watch out for the other teams, Gourdo? Fuck that shit. I'm going to be stuck in a hotel for the next few weeks to a month with the Philadelphia Flyers, Pittsburgh Penguins, Boston Bruins and Washington Capitals, there is NO way I am playing nice OR watching out!

This is war!

I jump up to my feet and snatch my phone. I'm going to gather Tyler [Johnson] and Mathieu [Joesph] and we're going to wreak havoc on the newcomers. The thing about pranks, is you don't sit around and wait, you act!

Now is the time to act. I'll greet the other teams with a nice Yanni Gourde-style welcoming prank.

I don't want them to say 'Hi, Yanni.' I want them to say: 'Oh my Gourde!'

A few hours later, Johnny, Jo and I have destroyed the room that will belong to Sidney Crosby, the captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins. The Lightning have taken the entire third floor, while the Penguins have taken up the second and first. The fourth floor belongs to the Philadelphia Flyers, while above them will be the Washington Capitals. The Boston Bruins are roaming the very top.

The Bruins, Caps and Flyers are all here. The Pens are the last of the teams to arrive to the hotel. (Makes sense for the staggering in and the floor levels assigned to each team because of COVID-19.)

Johnny, Jo and I are sitting in the lobby at a table playing cards, when the team finally walks in, well at least five of them that I can see. At the front is the ever-growing Sidney Crosby. His head is held high and he wears a smug, egotistical grin on his face.

We've chosen a secluded area to surveil them, hidden behind a throng of fake bushes in the shape of an 'L'.

I smirk to myself and follow him with my eyes as he walks around the lobby area, toward the cluster of six elevators with a few other of his teammates, including Kris Letang. He jams the button with his finger and stands impatiently with a hand on his hip.

"Tanger, I specifically asked for the hotel that had the faster elevators, because I hate waiting. So, WHY IS THIS THING TAKING SO FUCKING LONG?"

"Would you relax," a smaller African American man grumbles behind him. "You expect one to just be here waiting for you with the amount of people that will be staying in this damn hotel?"

Sidney whirls around to him as a chime goes off. "P.O., you worthless rookie scum, shut up. Don't you EVER talk to me like that. I am Sidney Fucking Crosby and I am the best player to EVER grace the NHL ice. Wayne Gretzky wishes he were as talented as me and McDavid can suck on my career stats."

The elevator doors pull open for them.

"That's my brother, Crosby..." Jo mutters to my side.

"Relax, Jo. Sidney's just an egotistical douchebag, but he wouldn't harm your brother," Johnny whispers.

They enter the opened elevator and quickly reach the second floor within minutes and I watch as they exit the elevator and make their way to the room that is right across from where we are sitting.

Room 287.

He opens up the room, Kris Letang at his side. I'm guessing they're roommates for this trip. As soon as he opens the door, a bucket of paint tumbles down on top of him, soaking him in a nice blue color.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL LIVING FUCKING HELL?!" the captain of the Penguins screeches.

Letang sidestep-shimmies past his paint-dripping teammate and into the room. "Oh great..."

"What the fuck now?" Sidney thunders, viciously wiping his eyes free of paint.

"The bed is soaked in water."

TJ chuckles, trying not to lose it. But it is loud enough in the empty hotel lobby to echo up to the second floor.

Sidney whirls around and stares down in the direction of the laugh. "WHO'S LAUGHING?! Whoever did this will receive hell in a handbasket from Sidney Fucking Crosby, the best player in the NHL EVER!"

I stand up, unable to keep this to myself any longer as Letang rushes out of the room, his pants soaked like he'd just peed himself. "Welcome to Hotel X, Piss-burgh." I double over, unable to stop myself from breaking out in laughter.

Sidney's face flushes bright red in embarrassment and anger. "Lightning...shoulda known..."

Letang storms toward the elevator as the rest of the team enters the hotel now and finds the captain covered in blue paint.

Day one: Prank Sidney Crosby (and Kris Letang). Done.

Day two: Find another victim to prank. In progress.