Respite

One of the nice things about life is that it doesn't seem to happen all at once. I mean, generally speaking, if you are madly busy, you know in the back of your mind that things will slow down. If things are slow, someday they'll pick up. Not feeling well? You'll lick that cold at some point. Things change so that it keeps you involved.

It's not always for the best. People you like seem to go away when you don't want them to go and people you just can't deal with are always there. Sometimes the cold never seems to fade away and you sniffle for months.

I mean, I've had stories to tell here but it's more catching up. The past week or so has been rather relaxing. Busy day at work, get home, eat, rest, sleep, nothing terribly exciting. That's not a bad thing. It's nice to catch your breath a little.

Of course, when things get slow, it just means you know they'll pick up again soon.

A Story of Mr. Cantiflas

Before my company was in the building it is today, we were operating from a building in a... less pleasant part of town. It was rough but the rent was affordable, this being the most important factor at the time. On occasion we did experience trouble from individuals in the area.

There was a crime wave in the neighborhood. Businesses for blocks around were being hit by a small gang of criminals. Descriptions of them varied. No one even seemed sure of how many members the gang had. During all this, we were running cards, ramping up security, expecting to be hit at any time.

In the middle of a show, three masked thugs attacked the box office, having apparently observed previous shows to find what they felt was a weak spot. Our security forces managed to repel them, capturing two of the men, but the third managed to escape them with the bulk of that night's take.

He made one critical mistake. In making his escape, he chose to use the alley running alongside the building, perhaps not having observed that there was an exit feeding into that passage. Having heard the alarm, many of us spilled into the alley, seeing the criminal run from us. While we had planned for the situation to occur, now that it had, it was clear we were unprepared. At least most of us were unprepared.

Reacting quickly, El Hombre de Silla flung his folding chair at the fleeing thief, clipping him in the leg, causing him to stumble. Before the man could regain his footing, El Hombre has caught up with him. One punch later, the thief was no longer resisting.

To the applause of the boys, El Hombre dragged the man back to the doorway. Handing me the money, he calmly noted “I believe this is yours, sir.”

It is not often that one can point to a specific event as the beginning of a friendship but, in his case, I can. Previous to this we did have a business relationship but this is when we started becoming friends.

A Story of Rugged Robbie V

Okay, so, there was this time when I was just starting out. Well, not just starting out but, early, okay? When you're that new in the business, a lot of the older guys like to mess with you. Nothing really mean, just mess with you. Hide your shoes, throw your clothes in the shower, put shoe polish on the handles of your bag, stuff like that. Some guys were really mean but most were just having fun, ya know?

There was a dude in the locker room, Gangster Gary McGrew, that just kept bugging me. Loved messing with me. Dunno why, man. One night I came back after my match, all banged up, lost, bummer. Rough night at work, right?

I get back to my locker and it gets worse. Someone took my shaving cream and sprayed it all over my clothes. Rubbed it in and everything. Not cool.

But the guy left the can behind and it still had some shaving cream in it. I was in a bad mood and this was just too much. I took what was left and filled up Gangster Gary's shoes with it. Just the part where your toes go, so it wouldn't be obvious.

I went off to take a shower and forgot all about it. Nice hot shower can wash away a lot, you know? All my negative emotions were gone just like that. It's not healthy to hang onto all that anyway. Bad for your heart.

So when Gary starts screaming at me, I don't know what he's talking about for a minute. He starts shoving his shoe in my face and all of a sudden I'm like 'oh yeah'. He's all 'how dare I?' and that, so I'm all 'Dude, look what you did to my clothes man' back at him. He's all 'I didn't do it'.

That confused me 'cause every other time he'd messed with me, he'd said so. He wanted me to know it was him. So I said that and apologized but then said he deserved it anyway. Then he mellowed out and agreed and we laughed and everything was cool between us. Then we were buds and we'd mess with each other a bit for fun. All cool.

No, nobody stepped up and said 'Yeah that was me' until years later. Turns out it was the Smasher. Said he did it so I wouldn't get picked on anymore. Which might be true or maybe he just thought it was funny and he just wanted to take credit for it turning out okay. Not sure man.

A Story of El Pantera Plata

When El Pantera Plata was still an active wrestler, he didn't care much for traveling. He had a home, he had a family, and he had a goal in spending as much time there as he could. If an opportunity came up to visit another territory, maybe make some friends elsewhere, get a higher position on the card, he would pass them up.

However this one time a promoter friend of his was in a real bind. Calls him up at almost the last second, begging for his help. The flu was rampaging through his locker room, he'd run through all his local backup guys, would Arturo please, please, please come help him out? He didn't want to travel but this promoter was in a spot and never let it be said that El Pantera Plata would not go to help a friend in need. Finally he said yes. The promoter was grateful and said the travel would be all taken care of, nothing to worry about, just get to the airport as soon as he could so he could get to Florida to wrestle that night!

No big deal, right? A flight from Milwaukee to Miami is only a couple hours, you can make that easy. Except that it was already mid-afternoon. No time to waste.

Now Arturo knows his buddy must be desperate if he was needed to call in a favor from that far away, but he's still grumpy that he has to travel at the last second, on a weekend, etc. Maybe he could fly down there, wrestle, and fly right back. If not, it's Miami and it could get a couple hours of sun and warmth before returning to the Wisconsin winter. So as he's heading to the airport, he's trying to find the silver lining in all this rushing.

He gets to the plane with no problem: ticket's waiting for him as promised, he only has an overnight bag so no problems with luggage, he's hurrying, but the plane doesn't get delayed because of him.

But the plane does get delayed.

While the plane is boarding, the wind picks up over nearby Lake Michigan and they have to delay take-off. Now, the downside to this is Arturo is concerned about being late. He's not that keen to go but, if he's going to go, he wants to do it properly. The upside is that he's sitting in first class. He's comfortable. He's getting fed drinks. His nervousness about being late is being calmed by the alcohol. Besides, if he's late, it's not his fault. He doesn't control the weather. About a half-hour late, the wind subsides enough for the plane to take-off.

Once he arrives in Miami, he has some control of the situation again. He's hurrying. The first thing he notices is that it's cold. It's like forty degrees. He's shivering. It's not a good start. On the plus side, he has a limo waiting for him. First class all the way on this trip! He has another drink to settle himself on the way to the show. The drive to the show takes longer than expected and he doesn't arrive until the intermission.

His promoter friend, John something or other, I think, is thrilled to see him. Very appreciative that Arturo has traveled all this way to 'save his show'. While John is going on and on and on thanking him, he lets slip that Arturo is wrestling in the Main Event for the Southeast Heavyweight Championship.

Now Arturo is nervous again; completely sober but nervous. Arturo was generally not positioned so highly on the card and rarely wrestled for belts. He was outside his comfort zone. Now he's worried he can't perform at that level and he'll ruin John's show.

He gets in the ring and the champ is a big muscular fella, ah, what was his name? Bill? Bob? Yes! Big Bob Burns, thank you. He's almost a foot taller than El Pantera Plata. Just looks overwhelming. More nerves for Arturo as he doesn't want this big guy to steamroll him and beat him in seconds. That's not a quality Main Event.

Arturo starts running and dodging and quickly realizes he can outwrestle Bob. To your point Robbie, at the time he was a big muscular lunkhead but at least he had charisma. Some anyway. Arturo starts wearing him out, hit and run, floating and flying.

Bob catches him out of the ring, slamming Arturo into the safety railing between the audience and the action. While Arturo is stunned, Bob runs at him, apparently planning to crush Arturo between Bob and the railing. Arturo's not stunned enough, moves, and Bob crashes into the railing at top speed.

No one realizes it at the time but Bob knocks himself out during the crash. He gets up and gets back in the ring but is too out of it to fight off Arturo. DDT. Three count. Arturo wins!

Then he realizes he's won the belt and he'll have to return to defend it.

Once again, there's an up side and a down side.

The Champ is Here!

Wrestlers filled the balcony. Some sat quietly, nursing an injury or a loss. Others cheered and celebrated. Rugged Robbie V, wearing his newly won championship belt, was atop a table, cheerfully demonstrating martial arts type kicks. “Be careful up there champ!” called out Mr. Cantiflas.

Robbie grinned back. “Yes sir Mr. Bossman!”

We moved through the crowd, past masked men, martial artists, and French-Canadians. A table near the bar was empty and we sat there. Jaz breezed by, playfully mussed my hair, and took Mr. Cantiflas' drink order.

Casually, Robbie jumped from his table, over an entire table full of drinks and wrestlers, to land in the aisle next to our table. If I make this action sound simple, well, it looked like it was for Robbie. The skill involved to create enough power to clear a table and people, while yet controlling himself in order to land in a space that was perhaps only two foot square is impressive. That's not a big target to hit.

“I didn't mean anything by being on the table Bossman,” Robbie explained. “I admit I was showing off a bit but you want your champ to be skilled, right?” A big grin formed on his face. “Cause, I mean, you don't want some muscular lunkhead with no charisma up as the leader, the ... figurehead!, that's the word, of your company. You want someone smooth and slick. That's what you got in me, Rugged Robbie V.”

“He's a confident man,” I noted to Mr. Cantiflas.

“Hey,” Robbie noted, “it's not bragging if you can back it up.”

“And you can,” I agreed.

“That's why I'm the champ,” he responded. Quickly, Mr. Cantiflas officially introduced us. “Oh man, you know El Pantera Plata? Does he ever, like, talk to you?”

“Occasionally.”

“And you've never been a worker, right?” Robbie checked. I confirmed that I'd never wrestled, only watched others wrestle. “Man, you're, like, my new hero. I've wrestled El Pantera Plata and he barely talks to me. He's quiet.”

As Robbie sat himself at our table, I stated “El Pantera Plata is a bit shy I think. Luckily for him, being silent works well with his tough guy persona.”

Cantiflas nodded as he swallowed some of his beverage. “This is true. He has been my friend for many years but he can be very quiet when he's around people he's not familiar with well.”

“What you should do is approach him with someone that he's already familiar with, like Mr. Cantiflas,” I recommended. “Then he'll relax and you'll start to hear his stories.”

Like this one.

Onward and Upward

While I have been up in the balcony of RageBreakers before, looking out onto the massive dance floor, it's not often that I've been up in the VIP section off to the side. In fact, I don't think I've ever been up there before when there were other people in there. Occasionally, on slow nights, Chicko and Arturo and I have hung out up there in order to get up to no good but that's not quite the same.

This time when the security on the stairwell, a burly but friendly gentleman by the name of Neal, raised his eyebrow curiously at my approach, Mr. Cantiflas waved him off and I was in!

The VIP balcony is nothing too special really, at least from a physical perspective. The carpet is black and dark red, hiding a myriad of stains in the low lighting. The rows of small round tables are surrounded by chairs that strive to be comfortable and sometimes succeed. Candles flicker on the tables, adding ever so slightly to the murky illumination. The bonus to the VIP area is that the people in it can be on their own a bit, not worried about interruptions from, well, people like me. The service is supposed to be even better up there as well.

This point was made that much clearer as the first person we saw upon reaching the top of the VIP staircase was my friend Jaz. As waitresses go, she's very good. As a pretty lady with long, dark hair and even longer legs, she's even better. She squeaked with excitement upon seeing me, rushing over to give me a big hug. “It's good to see you again! How have you been? What are you doing up here? The usual?” She rushed off.

Mr. Cantiflas was grinning. “Friend of yours?”

“Yes. Not in that way,” I added hurriedly. “She's very married.”

Jaz returned with a beer for me, politely kissed me on the cheek, and hurried back off. Mr. Cantiflas continued to grin. “I've been here many times and have yet to receive such service. I can already tell that bringing you along was a good choice.”

“It would have been better if she would have brought you a drink as well.”

He laughed. “Never mind that for now. Let's join the party.”

Then I Went Out

There's nothing quite like hollering and cheering for a couple hours to dry out your throat. As a result, I decided it was time for a trip to RageBreakers for a beverage or two. I mean, I was already out and about in that general area of town, so why not stop in?

It is one of the main advantages of being on your own, as I often am. You get to make these decisions on your own. Tired? Go home. Not tired? Don't go home. No discussion required, no 'well how tired are you?', you just go or don't. Which is nice I admit. On the downside, you've only got yourself to talk to when you're on your own, which can get rather tedious. It's not that I'm not friendly and don't met people this way as clearly I do. So it's a toss up I guess. I mean, if I had a girlfriend or a wife or companion of some sort, I might not have even gone to the wrestling at all. Maybe we wouldn't have gone out at all.

I'm clearly thinking about this too much. What I should be focusing on is the joys surrounding RageBreakers, my pals there.

Before I was near the mighty staircase that led to the massive bar, I found my pal Chicko. “Brah! Good to see you man. How you been? Oh man you picked a great night to come by, lots of lovely ladies and the LLW guys are here. Great night.” His enthusiasm was tempered by his duty to his job. “Busy, busy night. I'll catch you inside. Good to see you man! Hey, make sure you say hi to Arturo on your way in. He's at the door.” Just as suddenly, he was off.

I resumed my walk to the staircase and the bar beyond. As I ascended the curving staircase, I could see Arturo, aka El Pantera Plata, at the door, already in conversation with someone. I'm not much for interrupting someone's conversation unless I've got time-critical news to impart and even then I'm not that keen on interrupting. Still I thought I might be able to wave as I walked past, share a greeting without causing too much of a disturbance. As I walked past, I caught El Pantera Plata's eye, nodded, and waved. He beckoned me over.

I approached with a mix of hesitation and confusion. I still didn't want to interrupt and was concerned that I was misreading the gesture to join them. My confusion was caused by the fact that El Pantera Plata seemed to be rather chatty with his friend. That was rare. A chatty El Pantera Plata seemed to be a rare and beautiful thing, like a butterfly. Okay, maybe not, but it was different and interesting.

“... and then he fell off the stool!” exclaimed the friend. At this punchline, El Pantera Plata howled with laughter, slapping the wall to fully express the level of his mirth.

After wiping the tears from his eyes and adjusting the positioning of his silver and black mask, El Pantera Plata extended his hand to me, exchanging a hearty handshake. “Hey Jose,” he said to his friend, “this is Patrick. He's okay.”

Jose and I shook hands. He was a gentleman of some Latin descent, probably old enough to be my father. His dark hair was neatly combed and his nice suit was only slightly rumpled. “If Arturo says that you're okay, then you must be okay.”

El Pantera Plata finished the introduction. “Patrick, this is Jose Cantiflas.”

I know that name. Why do I know that name? Thankfully, the information popped into my head when I needed it and not three hours later like normal. “You run the LLW, don't you?” With a smile, Mr. Cantiflas nodded. “I just came from your show. Excellent card sir.”

“Thank you for saying so. I do my best but you never know how things will work out until the wrestlers are in the ring and they clash.”

“Hey,” El Pantera Plata interjected, “if you buy a round, I betcha Jose will tell you a story or two. Patrick likes stories.”

“I do.”

“Well, we're celebrating the title change tonight so it might be quite a round you'd have to pick up,” Mr. Cantiflas warned.

It suddenly occurred to me that I was being invited to join in with the wrestlers. “That's okay.”

“In that case, welcome to the party!”