Post by Dusty Griffith on Feb 16, 2022 12:31:45 GMT -5
Another match, another victory.
Even if it was only for one night, it was good to be back in Japan again. This is despite the fact that the fishbowl effect here is more intense than anywhere else I’ve been. I mean, yeah, obviously it’s because I stand out amongst a sea of Japanese people being a six-three white boy that runs near three bills.
Still, there’s just something about this place that I’ve never quite been able to put a finger on. Maybe it’s just such a wildly different culture compared to back home in the States. Whatever that is, it has always made being there for any length of time make sense to me. Even if I do stick out like a sore thumb.
Either way, I didn’t have the time to put much thought into it. Not when everything has been a chaotic blur of constant motion. I had just enough time to do what I had to do, fight my fight, find me some chow, pretend to sleep, and then rush off to catch my ride back around to the other side of the world.
Probably for the best anyway.
I’ve got more immediate problems to solve.
Three of them to be exact.
Los Angeles International Airport
About a Week Away from Heart of Halifax
Another flight, another airport.
Grabbed my duffle and trudged my way through the human traffic jam that is a busy LAX. Once I’m past security, my phone is out and I’m making sure that my ride is here. Sure enough, Nicole’s left me a pile of texts consisting mostly of emojis that detail her trek from her place to the airport.
She’s a good kid. Kinda annoying, reminds me of my sister back home. Happy go lucky, but a little pushy sometimes. She insisted on driving me to the airport. Figure she wants me to feel like I belong, that I’m part of this wrecking crew as they call it. Probably for the best, I feel more like the walking dead right now anyway.
Besides, I’m still figuring this maze of a city out. The very last thing I need is to end up dead in a fiery wreck, because I’m lost and exhausted. Plus, I am part of this team, so I may as well act accordingly and actually be part of the team. It’s just difficult when you’re used to being alone and doing everything yourself.
Eh, whatever. It’s a process and I’m working my way through it.
Off in the distance I can see the entrance. The closer I get, I can see Kid Nic standing there waiting. I hope she brought some coffee, even if it’s some overly gimmicked up Starbucks, triple frappe whatever the hell the kids call it. Sorta thing that sounds like you’re speaking another language.
Whatever it is, I could really use the jolt right about now. Once I finally break free of the logjam, I see she’s holding up a white sign with “Mr. Serious Business” written across it. I’d roll my eyes, but I’m too tired and barely manage a chuckle.
“Very funny, brother.” I say with a lazy smile and a nod. I mean, the title fits, I’m pretty much all work and no play most of the time.
Nicole looks at me funny and it makes me pause as I approach.
“What?” I ask while looking around to see if something’s going on.
“Hold on, I need to check something.” She says before setting the sign down, lifts up the hoodie she’s wearing and hooks both thumbs into the front of her leggings.
“What’re you do…” And that’s when it dawns on me as she looks down to inspect herself. “...ing?”
“Nope, nothing down there, brother.” She says teasingly.
“Yeah, yeah.” I yawn and start walking towards the exit.
Somewhere Along the 405
Driving Back to Long Beach
“Hey.” Nicole calls for my attention. “Have you been paying attention to wrestling?”
“Uh.” I respond, fighting off the increasingly desperate urge to sleep. “What about it?”
“Have you been watching?” She asks again. “Like, did you see Danny Ray or Takura Matsui on television?”
“Been a little busy actually wrestling, Nic.” I retort condescendingly. “Besides, I’ll leave all that yapping to them.”
“Do you seriously never keep up with what your opponents are saying?” She asks me incredulously. “Or see what they’re about, yanno, get an idea of who they are?”
“Not at all.” I say bluntly. “I do all of my talking in the ring. If ol’ Danny Ray, En Jay Cee, and Matsui wanna run off at the mouth, good for them.”
“Yeah, okay.” She continues. “But, wouldn’t figuring out what makes them tick help give you an edge?”
I look at her for a moment and consider the question.
“Alright.” I clear my throat and straighten up a bit. “Here’s what I know, alright.”
She hushes, as if waiting on me to bestow her with some kind of wisdom.
“After all these years of going ‘round the world, I’ve figured out that I don’t need to know a damn thing.” I snort and thumb my nose. “What I mean is, do I care who any of these people are that stand across the ring from me or what they have to say about me?”
I let that linger for a beat or two.
“No, not even a little bit.” I let the annoyances flow. “Truth is, once the bell rings, a fight is a fight. There’s no inspirational story or witty banter that’s gonna make any kind of real difference once we’re in the ring.”
I take a breath and continue.
“Besides, at the end of the day, I’m paid to fight and to be the very best wrestler that I can be. All the rest of it is just annoying, stupid, and of no use to me.”
Silence rises up as I throttle down from rambling.
“Anyway, kid.” I say with a softer tone as I ease back into my seat. “Lemme know when we get there, alright.”
Even if it was only for one night, it was good to be back in Japan again. This is despite the fact that the fishbowl effect here is more intense than anywhere else I’ve been. I mean, yeah, obviously it’s because I stand out amongst a sea of Japanese people being a six-three white boy that runs near three bills.
Still, there’s just something about this place that I’ve never quite been able to put a finger on. Maybe it’s just such a wildly different culture compared to back home in the States. Whatever that is, it has always made being there for any length of time make sense to me. Even if I do stick out like a sore thumb.
Either way, I didn’t have the time to put much thought into it. Not when everything has been a chaotic blur of constant motion. I had just enough time to do what I had to do, fight my fight, find me some chow, pretend to sleep, and then rush off to catch my ride back around to the other side of the world.
Probably for the best anyway.
I’ve got more immediate problems to solve.
Three of them to be exact.
=/=
Los Angeles International Airport
About a Week Away from Heart of Halifax
Another flight, another airport.
Grabbed my duffle and trudged my way through the human traffic jam that is a busy LAX. Once I’m past security, my phone is out and I’m making sure that my ride is here. Sure enough, Nicole’s left me a pile of texts consisting mostly of emojis that detail her trek from her place to the airport.
She’s a good kid. Kinda annoying, reminds me of my sister back home. Happy go lucky, but a little pushy sometimes. She insisted on driving me to the airport. Figure she wants me to feel like I belong, that I’m part of this wrecking crew as they call it. Probably for the best, I feel more like the walking dead right now anyway.
Besides, I’m still figuring this maze of a city out. The very last thing I need is to end up dead in a fiery wreck, because I’m lost and exhausted. Plus, I am part of this team, so I may as well act accordingly and actually be part of the team. It’s just difficult when you’re used to being alone and doing everything yourself.
Eh, whatever. It’s a process and I’m working my way through it.
Off in the distance I can see the entrance. The closer I get, I can see Kid Nic standing there waiting. I hope she brought some coffee, even if it’s some overly gimmicked up Starbucks, triple frappe whatever the hell the kids call it. Sorta thing that sounds like you’re speaking another language.
Whatever it is, I could really use the jolt right about now. Once I finally break free of the logjam, I see she’s holding up a white sign with “Mr. Serious Business” written across it. I’d roll my eyes, but I’m too tired and barely manage a chuckle.
“Very funny, brother.” I say with a lazy smile and a nod. I mean, the title fits, I’m pretty much all work and no play most of the time.
Nicole looks at me funny and it makes me pause as I approach.
“What?” I ask while looking around to see if something’s going on.
“Hold on, I need to check something.” She says before setting the sign down, lifts up the hoodie she’s wearing and hooks both thumbs into the front of her leggings.
“What’re you do…” And that’s when it dawns on me as she looks down to inspect herself. “...ing?”
“Nope, nothing down there, brother.” She says teasingly.
“Yeah, yeah.” I yawn and start walking towards the exit.
=/=
Somewhere Along the 405
Driving Back to Long Beach
“Hey.” Nicole calls for my attention. “Have you been paying attention to wrestling?”
“Uh.” I respond, fighting off the increasingly desperate urge to sleep. “What about it?”
“Have you been watching?” She asks again. “Like, did you see Danny Ray or Takura Matsui on television?”
“Been a little busy actually wrestling, Nic.” I retort condescendingly. “Besides, I’ll leave all that yapping to them.”
“Do you seriously never keep up with what your opponents are saying?” She asks me incredulously. “Or see what they’re about, yanno, get an idea of who they are?”
“Not at all.” I say bluntly. “I do all of my talking in the ring. If ol’ Danny Ray, En Jay Cee, and Matsui wanna run off at the mouth, good for them.”
“Yeah, okay.” She continues. “But, wouldn’t figuring out what makes them tick help give you an edge?”
I look at her for a moment and consider the question.
“Alright.” I clear my throat and straighten up a bit. “Here’s what I know, alright.”
She hushes, as if waiting on me to bestow her with some kind of wisdom.
“After all these years of going ‘round the world, I’ve figured out that I don’t need to know a damn thing.” I snort and thumb my nose. “What I mean is, do I care who any of these people are that stand across the ring from me or what they have to say about me?”
I let that linger for a beat or two.
“No, not even a little bit.” I let the annoyances flow. “Truth is, once the bell rings, a fight is a fight. There’s no inspirational story or witty banter that’s gonna make any kind of real difference once we’re in the ring.”
I take a breath and continue.
“Besides, at the end of the day, I’m paid to fight and to be the very best wrestler that I can be. All the rest of it is just annoying, stupid, and of no use to me.”
Silence rises up as I throttle down from rambling.
“Anyway, kid.” I say with a softer tone as I ease back into my seat. “Lemme know when we get there, alright.”
