April 12th, 2010

The Road to Wrestlemania – Wrestlemania!

San Jose blurs by. Compressing what normally is a two-day, four show taping into one super long day has a strange way of making time (and eyes, brains, ect) blur. For the second time in less than two days, I take to the unfriendly skies, where US Air (Motto: We hate to fly and it shows) delivers my half-asleep carcass back to Phoenix. And now, it’s time. The Road to Wrestlemania has come to an end. The flying over for a while, I quickly rescue Rain Cloud Follows from the confines of the parking garage, and the ever trustworthy, ever predictable Garmin Everlost takes me on a tour of the smallest streets of Phoenix on the way to the hotel that will be my home for the next week.

And that home is not bad at all if I do say so myself. Usually, it seems our hotels are conveniently located in a desolate warehouse district, presumably in an effort to keep the crew safe and sober. This time, for a welcome change, our hotel is located directly next door to one of those fun bar/restaurant/fun complexes. Uh oh…

On Thursday night, this fun bar/restaurant/fun complex hosts Bike Night, with enough raw, blatant motorcycle porn on display to cause that gland in my tiny brain to dump happy juice into my system at a pleasantly alarming rate.

Warning: Motorcycle Porn to Follow

The biggest tribute to motorcycling excess I’ve ever seen, the Boss Hoss makes me chuckle.

Standing next to this behemoth, I laugh as I picture this monster firing up, and the wash from the exhaust cannons knocking surrounding bikes and bystanders down like dominoes.

Then, there is this tribute to the other extreme; the three wheeled, 1 HP Road Hog trike:

I love the look of this motorcycle.

Then, I see it. Tucked away in a corner, hidden from view of all but the most determined moto-porn connoisseurs is the bike I lusted after, the bike I decorated the inside of my high school locker with centerfolds of, the motorcycle that for years I couldn’t get out of my head (and now it thankfully back in my head once again) the one and only Yamaha FZR.

MMMmmmmm-MMMmmmm good.

As much as I hate to do it, I tear myself away from this dangerous but delicious bike, as grand theft moto is still probably a felony in Arizona.

A few days of setup in the University of Phoenix stadium, a building that sort of looks like a futuristic toaster oven from the 1950’s, begins. For about a week prior to the TV crew’s arrival, other crews armed with fun toys like cranes and lifts have been setting up jillions of tons of steel, stages, screens, lights and everything else it takes to put on this massive show.

On Friday, Dark Meat Snack and I leave the chaos of the futuristic toaster building for the relative calm of the Dodge Theater, to set up for Saturday evening’s Hall of Fame ceremony. This year, for a welcome change, set up is smooth, and the show, featuring the induction of Ted Dibiase, the Million Dollar Man, comes off without a hitch.

Then, the big day arrives. 72,219 of our closest friends file into the arena, and at the appropriate time, the announcement is made, the crowd erupts in a wild cheer, America the Beautiful booms through the building, and the show goes on, as all shows must.