That British dude I mentioned before was at the show I worked last night. I may not have this word for word, but here’s what he said on the mic –
“Step up my lad and I will take you on a sailing trip and you will not like what’s under the mizzen. I’ll run you up a dress in taffeta. You understand me? Step into this ring and I will bake you, my god, the worst cake. Want some cake?”
I understand from context that means “If you fight me I will fuck you up” but what is this guy’s deal? Is this how some British people talk or is he off his meds? I was curious, so I tried to talk to him a little after the show and outside the ring he talks even more nonsense. I don’t know if it’s like Cockney rhyming slang or what’s going on but I couldn’t tell what he was saying 80% of the time. I don’t know if he was propositioning me or asking me to get coffee or telling me to leave him alone.
It reminded me that I don’t really have any pals in the biz. I don’t know if I want any, but seems like most other people travel in packs at my stage of their careers. It’s a way to cut your costs if nothing else. Although as we learned from Candy Cartwright it can have other downsides. Probably not worth it for me.
I sort of had a buddy for a little while. This guy named Josh who wrestled under the name Dan Conway. Dan Conway because his claim to fame was being trained by Rob Conway, pretty okay wrestler who was in WWE for a while . We happened to be on a few of the same shows and we got to talking about our tragic childhoods – his parents died when he was a kid and he grew up in foster care.
It was nice to have someone to talk to about that who didn’t get all weird about it. You can’t really talk to normal people about your shitty childhood because they don’t know how to act or what so say – it’s kind of like telling someone you have cancer. They can’t handle it. But someone else who’s been through it can handle it, they can laugh about it without cringing and being overly sensitive or without going too far and actually being a jerk about it. It’s a fine line.
That budding friendship came to a halt when he invited me to what turned out to be . . . I’m not sure what it was. An orgy I guess. But also with prostitution? The bottom line was a woman would have these sex parties and pay wrestlers to come and double up on her. Once I was there and people started getting it on, he told me I didn’t have to do anything if I didn’t want to, but I would have liked a heads up BEFORE I was in this woman’s house.
Plus he drove so I was stuck there while he earned his money. What’s the rule I learned in Mexico? Never let anyone drive you anywhere.
The end to that story is while I was in that house trying not to see people fucking, I’m pretty sure I saw some magic paraphernalia. I thought about going back to ask the hostess about it when people weren’t fucking all over the place but I decided against it. I want a mentor but there are lines I don’t want to cross.