Post by: Bo Dreamwolf on March 30, 2012, 08:18:54 PM
Bo Dreamwolf
I stood in line at the security check for the Tulsa International Airport and couldn't help but feel just a little surprised at how many people were there, like I was, waiting to get through the security clearance and make their way to their respective terminals. It doesn't seem to matter how often I find myself traveling for a wrestling show, I never really tire of the atmosphere of the airports and the people milling about inside. Curiosity bites at me, wondering silently who these people are, and where might they be going?
I had to admit, I was pretty excited about this trip to Europe. It would be a short tour, only four shows. No, I wouldn't be competing on all of the programs, but I would be in each location, which meant some ample time to explore and do some sight seeing. I've been competing for a fair few years now, but outside of Japan and North Africa, I haven't had much worldwide experience past my own borders. The chance to see places such as Paris and London is too much of a temptation for even the hardiest of hearts -- of which I have not. Traveling had always been a big part of why I entered the sport of professional wrestling.
However I had to admit that I had reservations. My Grandmother, being the main one. I truly disliked the idea of leaving her alone for such long periods of time, and to be gone for over a month would not leave me resting easy until I arrive home and know all is well. That is until I spoke with my younger sister, Abigail. She told me she would pack her bags and come stay with Grams until I returned home from Europe. That plan didn't go over very well with her husband, as I understand it. It's one of the rare few times Abigail put her foot down with that preening peacock fool, Darius. Family still means a great deal to her. It's something my grandparents instilled in the both of us, and for that I am ever grateful. At times such as these when I have to leave town, I know I have a sister who I can depend on, and more importantly, who Grams can depend on. Even a control freak like her husband could not drive that from my little sister's head. I wasn't certain what would be brought up when the two discovered Grams had already placed the family home in my name, as I knew Darius had his eyes on the property value. Darius, was, well to say upset would perhaps be an understatement. Good. I am sorry. It is an awful thing to say about a man who is family. Of course, it's Abigail's fault he's family, but still. The point remains. I do not like the man.
Things had remained frosty at best for a time after Grams's birthday, but it was Abigail who had called me afterwards and we talked. It was the first real long conversation we have had in years. She admitted to me the disappointment in the transfer of ownership of the house, and how it was handled behind her back. Yet deep down, she understood why Grams did it. She understood why it was me to whom the house was left. She just wished Grams and I could have been more up front about it. Understandable. I explained to her it was only done this way, not out of a lack of trust in her, but to avoid any confrontation or hassle with Darius in an attempt to stop it or talk Grams out of it.
I did not have to heart to tell my sister that if Darius had tried to interfere, I personally would have knocked him on his pompous ass.
Abigail and I came to an understanding, and one for which we were both pleased. I would never let anything come between the bond we had forged as children growing up, and despite her vows of marriage, neither would she. She and Grams, who had gone along for the ride, had just dropped me off at the airport. They wanted to come in and see me off, but truth be told, there wouldn't be much point as they wouldn't be allowed past the security check. So we said our 'fare thee wells' so to speak and here I am.
I set my carry on bag onto the carousel and opened it just enough to pull out my laptop and Kindle, as well as the few DVDs Abigail had bought for me to pass the time on this long plane ride that was to come. I wasn't certain I would need either, as my mind was full as it stood.
Many might not be aware of this, but back in the days of the GCW, I won the North American Championship, a title I technically have still to this day. Reason being, the promotion folded activity before I was given the opportunity for a single defense. That is a blemish on my record I would never really gloss over, despite my friends and family's attempts to speak otherwise. This tour was going to give me the chance in Sin City Wrestling that I never got there. The first program would be in Amsterdam, and I was booked in the main event of all spots, defending my championship for the very first time.
I set the Kindle, computer and DVDs into the tub, and my bag onto the belt that would take it through the X-Ray machine. I then slid my shoes off (thank you Grams for reminding me to wear clean socks!) and placed them in the tub as well. I turned and waited as there was only a couple of people ahead of me.
I could see why my title defense was the final match on the show. The excitement of the Roulette division was based around the fact nobody knew what exactly the match would be until it was practically time for the introductions. Not even the staff such as Mister Ward or Mister underwood had any knowledge beforehand. It was all left to a spin of the literal Roulette wheel and from there, who could know what could happen?
My opponent? I'm glad to say that he earned the chance to compete for the title, much as I did. I earned my right to challenge Lucian Frost in a battle royal, and Bobby the Convict Cage defeated a monster of a man in Damon Synn to get the right to wrestle me for the same opportunity.
It's strange at times like these when the proverbial shoe is on the other foot. You scratch and claw for a chance to wrestle a champion, then all of a sudden, you're a champion and you're sitting there, watching these other men tearing each other apart to get the right to wrestle you. It can really put things into perspective. I was the referee in that match where Bobby Cage beat Damon Synn. It was my hand that slapped the mat three times to declare him my number one challenger. I was talking to Mister Parker backstage after that match and he knew as well as I did, that being the official in that match gave me a great advantage going into this defense, no matter who had won. Not because they had competed and I had not. No, because standing there at the ready as the referee had given me the prime opportunity to study both men close up, size them up, and try and spot their weaknesses.
Bobby Cage has weaknesses. He might not know it, then again, who knows? he might. But he does have them. I have no intention of my first title defense also being my last. So I have to do what any other competitor would do; take those weaknesses, and exploit them. The Convict earned the right to challenge me for my Roulette Championship, but once that bell rings, he's going to be sent back to the bottom of the ladder. He'll have a long road ahead of him if he plans to earn another chance at gold.
"Excuse me, sir."
The voice of the guard caught me by surprise. I turned and looked at two men in their TSA uniform, and the one who had spoken beckoned me over with a wave of the arm.
"Oh, hell." I silently cursed. I had read enough horror stories about these so-called security checks that seemed more like rape violations by these people to know I wanted no part of one. If I was going to have my lower regions grabbed and cupped, I'd rather it be by the female of the species and one of us had better be buying dinner for the other, first.
As I approached, I should have realized that was not the case. Not when I saw the second guard holding a little brown bottle in his hand. My prescription. I could have cursed myself. Of all the things to forget to remove from my bag.
"Sir, could you explain this please?" The one guard said as he held the bottle up.
I closed my eyes briefly and shook my head. "I have no explanation." I admitted. "It was a dumb oversight on my part, and I apologize. I forgot to remove them from my bag with my electronics."
The man holding the bottle frowned as he looked at the label. He said, "RMS MS Contin?" He looked at his partner. "Morphine." He looked back to me. "That's pretty strong stuff."
"Yes sir." I answered. I had nothing to hide so no reason to start now. "I injured my back and shoulders, and it was prescribed to me. I'm a professional wrestler and at times we tend to take a bad bump and..." I shrugged and nodded toward the bottle. "A necessary evil, you might say."
The first guard spoke up and asked me, "Do you have your doctor's note to go along with this?"
Doctor's note? I frowned and shook my head. "No, I wasn't aware I'd need one." I looked from the one guard to the other. I felt like other eyes were watching me, and they probably were. Others passing by security were probably growing curious as to why the guards had taken aside one individual. I continued my explanation, "I travel enough around the country by plane and car and was never asked for a paper from a physician for these. The prescription label had always been sufficient."
The first guard looked almost sympathetic as he said, "Yes but when you travel outside of the country, you do need official papers for medications this strong."
I felt my stomach lurch as the man holding my pills set them out of reach and said, "I'm sorry but without the papers, we can't let you take these into another country."
"Please tell me you're joking." I said, and prayed silently that this had to be a joke. There were times those pills were the only answer to me getting to sleep or even being able to bend at the waist without wanting to cry out.
"I'm sorry, no." The second guard said. "You can either go on without them and a family member can speak to your doctor to get them sent legally to your destination, or perhaps you can catch a later flight and your doctor can fax the papers here and then you can take them on flight with you."
I frowned as I tried to think. this had caught me completely off guard. Unfortunately, neither option was viable. I was under a time table and shook my head, "I hate to say this but I may have to just do without."
"Are you sure?"
"No." I admitted. "But I'm catching one of the last flights to Amsterdam to make my show. I wouldn't be able to take another and wait for my doctor to send the papers, as this flight was provided by a third party." And although it went unspoken, I didn't want to contact Grams nor Abigail either, as neither was aware I was on any medication, let alone that I had been working with these injuries for months.
I looked at the guards and sighed, but forced a smile. "Thank you."
They nodded and made to dispose of the pills that I had come to depend on to get me through some painful times -- literally. I walked over to the conveyor and grabbed my bag and the tote and carried them over towards the row of chairs to get settled.
Life seemed to be full if challenges. This was just a new one, but one I was not sure how i would deal with.
Amsterdam, here I come.