The glitz, glam and shame of small-town journalism

It's questionable how one should act when something as big and important as world women's curling strolls into your little Saskatchewan town.

From TSN cameras and a packed Credit Union i-plex to fluorescent polka-dotted pants and rubber things called sliders, this past week has been nothing short of a three-ring circus.

As a reporter I've been granted what some may refer to as 'special privileges,' including clearance to go out onto the ice as well as into the backstage area where all the action happens behind the scenes.

From day one as the prestigious letters Z, I, B and M were inked on my accreditation pass — which, by the way, I still have no idea what they mean but, heck, I guess it's got to be good — I knew this nine-day curling extravaganza was going to be something this nobody journalist has always hoped to experience.

Okay, so I’ll admit sitting at the feet of the curlers as they compete and schmoozing with the CTV, Canadian Press and, of course, TSN hot shots in the media room has been rather exciting.

Other aspects, however, have been much less glamourous, I assure you. Even the coveted media room located in the dungeon-like bleak basement of the i-plex is unfriendly at the best of times.

And as I sit at ice level taking pictures, I pause and take a moment to survey my more distinguished media counterparts. I look at their pontoon-sized camera lenses before returning my gaze back down at my much smaller, much less cool Nikon D-90 and 300 millimetre lens. Pathetic in comparison.

A pang of lens envy and even a little bit of embarrassment rushes over me. However, after the draw is finished and the overzealous cameras are put away, we meet in a scrum and are all equals once again.

All business aside, there’s no denying that little Swift Current can throw one heck of a party. Jeff Chambers’ Keith’s Patch has been the place to be since opening night last Saturday.

Although the bands have been entertaining to say the least — and I'm especially referring to my personal favourites, the platform-wearing, boa-sporting Men Without Shame — the hands down best part about the Patch has been the coming together of curling fans of all ages.

As I cruised the crowded, sweat-filled former curling rink — now the Patch — on opening weekend, I noticed people well into their 70s cheerfully carousing with others young enough to be their grandchildren.

Who knew a sport and a couple of five dollar beverages could bring generations of strangers together here in Swift Current.

So after all is said and done, the flags are ripped down and given back, and the i-plex is once again converted back into a hockey arena, I’ll be sad to see the world leave and this experience become a distant memory.