The Ramp Rats Who Met God — And He Wore Number 10
It was just another day on the Toronto Pearson Airport tarmac — bags being tossed like Olympic shot put, radio chatter louder than a Bingo hall on half-price pierogi night, and two ramp legends doing what they do best: standing around pretending to “supervise.”
Enter: Al BruceHorney and the late great John Brodeur.
Two die-hard Montreal Canadiens fans whose bloodstream ran pure Molson, maple syrup, and old Forum hot dog water. These weren’t just Habs fans. These were les ramp gods. Al once canceled a Calgary-bound cargo flight because it coincided with a Canadiens playoff game. John wore his lucky Guy Lafleur jersey under his safety vest — year-round. Even in July. Even in cargo hold #3.
But on this particular day at Gate 124, fate (and Air Canada flight 423 from YUL) was about to give them more than a full load of golf bags and one angry emotional support iguana.
The doors open… and out steps the Ghost of Forum Past:
GUY.
FLIPPING.
LAFLUER.
Hair as golden as a Zamboni driver’s dream. Flowing like it was still 1977. Even the wind machines used for Beyoncé videos would’ve bowed in shame.
Al dropped his headset. John choked on a half-chewed piece of Timmie’s Boston Cream. One bag agent actually fainted into a pile of lost luggage labeled “YEG.”
“Mon dieu…” whispered Al. “It’s The Flower.”
“Tell me I’m not hallucinating again like that time we towed the lav truck into the pilot lounge,” said John.
But no — it was real. Guy was there. Cool as ever. Dressed in a vintage Habs warmup jacket that hadn’t aged a day.
“Bonjour, les gars,” Lafleur nodded, like a god descending upon mortal tarmac. “Any chance I can get a cart ride to Terminal 1?”
Al, channeling years of professional ground handling decorum, replied with the poise of a true ramp legend:
“Hop in, mon capitaine. We’ll get you there faster than a Leafs first-round exit.”
So off they went. Three legends. One golf cart. No brakes.
They cut across taxiways. Dodged a 777 like it was a Boston Bruins defenseman. Security tried to radio in a “rogue cart,” but someone yelled, “It’s Guy Lafleur!” and the entire control tower just stood up and saluted.
By the time they got to Terminal 1, people were cheering. Rampies were waving marshalling wands in tribute. Even the squirrels in the de-icing units paused in reverence.
Lafleur stepped off, patted both of them on the back and said, “Merci, mes amis. You guys are the real legends.”
John looked at Al. Al looked at John.
And together they whispered the most sacred words a Canadiens fan could ever say:
“We can retire now.”
And they did — one to a cabin in the Laurentians, the other to the big tarmac in the sky. But both forever remembered as the ramp rats who met God… and He wore number 10.