[Bo Dreamwolf]

 Berlin, Germany

Monday - April 09, 2012

I have to admit that I still feel amazed by the realization that I'm actually here.

I have to be grateful to Mister Ward and Mister Underwood in the fact they had the forethought to book the wrestlers and staff of SCW for travel between the airport and our hotel. I never would have thought of that and truth be told, if they hadn't I'd most likely have hopped into the first cab I saw and ended up back in Paris by mistake. I found myself acting like a school boy, an ironic thing being a teacher. My eyes were glued to the glass of the passenger door and they roamed everywhere as we passed person and structure alike. There was just so much to see! I knew I would be busy over the course of the coming week. There would be interviews scheduled, meet and greet with the fans and I've been scheduled for a German talk show (how that's going to work when I don't speak the language is well beyond me!), and I am probably forgetting something with the big show in London looming closely, and now I understand I'll be traveling back to the states for an inter-promotional challenge match in another NWA territory.

Wow. I don't remember ever having been so busy in the business!

The bosses, though, have promised the workers that there would be time left for socializing and sight seeing. That is what I am really looking forward to. I want to see Unter den Linden and Museum Island. My sister and grandmother also asked for pictures of Charlottenburg Palace and Park, and for souvenirs as well. So even during my sight seeing I imagine I won't be idle.

Hey! I just passed the Brandenburg Gate! And me without my camera at the ready!



It wasn't too long before the cab pulled to a stop outside of a very nice hotel called the Pullman Berlin Schweizerhof. This looked fancy, and like a place I might have stayed back in my GCW days. I reached into my wallet and pulled out what I hoped was the right amount for the fare (Hello, tourist here?) and passed it to the driver.

"Danke." I said and the cabbie smiled and nodded toward me, and repeated the same. Okay, so I told a bit of a fib when I said I knew nothing of the language here in Berlin. I'm sorry but you just don't go to another country without knowing at least the basics of hello, good-bye, and thank you!

I shut the cab door behind me, and me and my luggage made my way into this nice place that would basically be my home for the next several days. No sooner did my foot step into the foyer of the hotel than I thought surely I had to be in the wrong place. This looked more like some high rise office building than it did a hotel.



The only thing that stopped me from looking a fool and got me to walking across the expansive lobby floor was the fact I saw some others, men and women, walking about with their own luggage. I also recognized one or two of them as people who worked for Sin City Wrestling. Just as I was about to arrive at the front desk, I heard a voice speak my name.

"Bo? Bo! Over here."

I looked and felt somewhat relieved that SCW Co-Owner and a man that has been at my side for the vast majority of my career, Mister Mark Ward, was walking over toward me. No sooner did he step up to me than I offered my hand and he firmly grasped it, and clapped me on the shoulder. I don't know if I visibly winced as it was my 'bad' shoulder, but if Mister Ward noticed anything, he didn't say anything.

"Christ almighty!" He said as he took a step back to give me the once over and then surveyed the surroundings. "You're late. We were starting to wonder if you were ever going to make it."

I smiled despite myself and shrugged slightly, saying, "My plane was a bit late taking off from the connecting flight in Frankfurt. Some soldiers were returning from Afghanistan and they held it up for them. Some people grumbled until they saw who we were waiting on."

"Open mouth, insert foot?" Mister Ward smirked. "I love moments like that ... so long as it's someone else doing it."

"Of course."

"Anyway..." Mister Ward continued. "Room's ready. you know to save finances everyone is sharing a room with another?"

I nodded, "That's fine. I've been doing it on the road in the States so no harm doing it here."

"Cool." Mister Ward then turned to the desk clerk who was patiently waiting and he said quite coherently, "Herr Bo Dreamwolf's raum bitte?"

The clerk nodded and after typing something into his desk computer, turned and slipped a key card from a slot against the wall and passed it over to me.

"Thank you." I said and the clerk nodded and turned back to address the now forming line of guests waiting to either check in, or check out. I stepped aside and asked, "You speak German?"

Mister Ward held up his thumb and forefinger to indicate "little bit" and then said, "Go get settled, take a nap, do whatever. No plans for the wrestlers until tomorrow afternoon so you can probably get in some sight seeing or shopping, whatever. I have to go find Christian and iron out a few things over this show."

"Thanks." I said and he again clapped me on the shoulder as he went one direction, and I the other.

**********

It took me a brief search but I finally found the elevator and my actual hotel room hall. Like I said, tourist! I was admittedly thrilled when I saw the gorgeous swimming pool in an adjacent alcove to the lobby and decided there I'd be spending a portion of my day. I always did love swimming, and it relaxed my aching muscles when seemingly nothing else would.

I stopped at a particular door and checked my reservation slip. It matches so I slid the key card down through the reader and the small light turned green and I grabbed my bags to go inside. No sooner did I step in and start to close the door behind me, when I stopped fast. There was someone in my room, or ... someone's. At first I thought it was my roommate but then I could have sworn I smelled perfume so I hurriedly switched the light on  and almost dropped my luggage cart.

Two women were laying across one of the beds of the hotel and they were smiling rather appreciatively at me. I looked around and said something rather foolish, akin to, "Um, I think I have the wrong room."

"Hallo." One of the women said in a surprisingly husky voice, and that was when I realized that these two women -- were men! Two transvestites were in my room, laying on my bed!

"What is going on?" I asked, neglecting to take into account they probably didn't understand English. "Why are you in my room?"

The first drag queen slid his ... her, legs over the edge of the bed and looked toward her friend and smiled, "Er schaut köstlich. Verbessern Sie soviel als die Touristen, die wir normalerweise für angestellt erhalten." <"He looks delicious. So much better than the tourists we usually get hired for.">

"Mm." The other purred rather unconvincingly and turned to look me over and I think my stomach just dropped. I felt absolutely sick, and bewildered because I had no idea what was going on. Other than there was some kind of mistake. The two stood up and started to walk over toward me with a swing to their hips and I felt myself back up against the door and start reaching for the door knob to get, as Mister Ward would say ... the bloody hell out of here!

That was when the first drag queen had me pinned up against the door and she turned to her friend and cooed, "Oh sagte er, dass dieses schüchtern sein würde!" <"Oh he said that this one would be shy!">

"Ich denke, dass wir ihm helfen können sich zu entspannen." <"I think we can help him relax."> The second one said and as the first started grabbing at my shirt and unbuttoning it despite my attempts to peel her hands from my upper body, the other one had sunk to her knees in front of me, and good God was starting to do the same to my belt buckle!

"Hey!" I shouted. "Hey! Stop!" I tried to stop the second one and that just gave the first one the freedom to get my shirt wide open and start caressing my chest and as I dropped my luggage to fend the first off, the second managed to get my belt off and go for... help me! "Stop!"

"Oh mag ich dieses! Er spielt stark, um zu erhalten!" <"Oh I like this one! He plays hard to get!"> The one kneeling in front of me giggled and before I knew it, my jeans got yanked down! Okay! That was enough! Exit Bo, stage left!

My dressing room door flew open and I lunged to get out but my foot got caught and I tripped and fell flat on my face, shirt flapping open and my jeans down around my ankles! I. Was. Mortafied! More so when those two damn drag queens grabbed me by the ankles and started to drag me back into the room! I grabbed hold of the door frame and held on for dear life -- literally -- as people started to gather and watch the spectacle, and I saw a particular group up front rather enjoying themselves -- judging by the roaring laughter they were letting loose at my general direction! Nick Jones and that blasted entourage of his!

"Smile!" Nick called out and I instinctively looked up and the flash of his camera went off. It surprised me enough my grip loosened and I ended up being pulled back into the room with the door slamming shut. The last thing I heard was Nick's laughing voice saying, "Best money I ever spent!"

**********

I was fuming. I fought to try to calm down and shield myself from the embarrassment that I was going through since that ... incident a few hours ago. I can only thank God that Mister Ward and Mister Underwood heard about what was going on and came a running to my rescue. Things had deteriorated in my room as soon as I got pulled back inside. I don't want to go into any actual details for fear of losing my lunch, but to make a long story short ... I made it clear to those two I was not a client, and most definitely not interested.

I just wish I could have gotten that point across before they pretty much got everything else off that they didn't get off before -- and before I gave one a very sore jaw -- with my fist! God I know that at least someone seeing this would have read that wrong!

The second I knocked the one down called an end to this. I am sorry if I hurt him ... or her ... but this was not funny and had simply gone on for too long. When the bosses got into my room and saw me standing butt bare to the world with two female impersonating prostitutes, it took a bit of explaining to try to understand what the hell was going on. That was when Mister Ward pretty much got the idea into his head and explained to me about Nick. His insatiable need to make someone look foolish and humiliate them all in one fell swoop. I knew Nick had this past rivalry of sorts with Mister Parker, the two exchanging pranks on the other.

It seemed that with Mister Parker not anywhere around, I had inherited this legacy unwillingly. And of course neither boss could get Nick to confess to what happened. He just put on his best innocent face and said, "Who? Me?"

I set my phone back down on the bedside stand and leaned back in the cushioned chair in front of the blank screened television. Despite the best efforts of my roommate, other wrestlers and Mister Ward, I have not set foot outside of this room since what happened ... happened. Too many others saw and I was just too embarrassed. It was Mister Parker I had actually just gotten finished talking to and when he stopped laughing (!!!), he told me the only way I was going to get some sense of satisfaction was if I would just give Nick a taste of his own medicine.

That was just something I couldn't see myself doing. It's not my style, never has been. After I talked to my mentor and friend, I opted to spend the evening channel surfing ... on German television? Maybe the headache would help me forget what happened. I couldn't do anything in kind to Nick. All I needed to do was just ignore him and he'd go away.

Right?



"You know what is the hardest part about speaking your mind in one of these promos that can make or break a wrestler's career? The simple fact it's a cheap way to try and get into your opponent's head with insults and derogatory claims. The vast majority of wrestlers use these moments to do one thing, and one thing only; talk trash. I always knew that interviews and promotional appearances were a big part of any wrestlers career. Heck, one might even say that they themselves make a man or woman's career inside of the ring as much as their skills do. As talented and skilled an athlete as someone might be, if they can't talk on a microphone and push themselves into the eyes and hearts of the fans, and make staff take notice, they're going to have a much tougher hill to climb than someone who can talk and make themselves heard. I just find it somewhat disheartening that a wrestler can't focus on his match and confront his opponent without being hateful and insulting. It's as Mister Parker once told me; these men I'm working with are in the ring to do the exact same thing I am."

"Living a dream, and supporting a family."

"Of course some of these men take it to the extreme and carry themselves in a less than stellar light. Those are the kind of men you find yourself getting worked up against and wanting to talk trash about. But what happens when you find yourself in the ring without someone that, although you don't like, you don't hate either? Or more harder, what do you do when you're in the ring with someone you have genuine respect for and want nothing more than to have a great match? That makes things difficult for someone who tries to see the best in everyone as I  was raised to do. Even when I'm against someone who could be considered an 'enemy', I never liked just talking smack and insulting the man's skills and record when it wasn't warranted."

"I have sat back and listened to a lot of wrestlers make their jokes about Casey Williams, and how he's not as tough as he likes to believe, or how his skills as a wrestler are not as impressive as his imposing physical presence. I really don't know how anyone can sit back, watch one of this man's matches, and say these things with a straight face."

"I look at Casey Williams and see one of the best big men in the business. I mean, the man wouldn't be a champion otherwise. There's a saying Mister Parker once told me and I take it to heart in this business; if you're going to be successful as a professional wrestler, you not only have to dish it out but you better be able to take it. It's words to live by, and Casey Williams lives by them in word and deed. I admit things he's done in the past probably aren't exactly what you would call reputable, but he has had success, and nobody can deny that without making liars out of themselves."

"AWA International Champion. AWA Television Champion. The Pryde Tag Team Champions and yes, here in Sin City Wrestling he paired with Jordan Williams and won the SCW Tag Team title in their first try together as a team. Make your jokes, crack the insults, but the simple fact is you can't be successful in the ring, without being a success. Anyone who can't  bring themselves to acknowledge what Casey has done, and can do, is either jealous or a fool."

"Is he big? What are you, blind? Is he technically sound when it comes to taking care of business in the ring? Well now, I wouldn't exactly say that. The man has skill, but I think he prefers to throw the power moves around and use his size to overwhelm the men he goes up against. And that's fine. If it works for him, all the better! I'm not saying he isn't capable, I just think he's happier tossing someone through the air with a gut wrench suplex than he is in applying a Boston Crab. This is where Mister Parker's training is really going to come in handy, as is the experience I've earned in the ring over the past few years."

"I can't go into this match and think I'm going to be able to throw a punch at Casey without getting my head taken off. I'm man enough to admit that if we traded punches, I'd be laid out and left on my back, staring at the lights in seconds. Quite simply, in a brawl the man would kick my butt. In a straight up wrestling match, that's a different story. Everyone who wrestles a big man says the same thing; take him to the mat and there goes his size advantage. I can tell you honestly that's a crock. You might be able to take the big man down, but keeping him there is a different story. And what happens if you take him down and that big man is able to reach you?"

"You're toast."

"This is where a key strategy comes into play. Think of it as a Casey Williams puzzle, but only in reverse. Instead of taking each separate piece and putting it together, I'm going to be taking the whole picture, and begin breaking it down, piece by piece."



Wednesday 04/11/2012...

I walked up to my hotel room door and almost felt pretty paranoid, I have to admit, thanks to that most unwelcome surprise at the hands of Nick and those odd friends he hangs around. The only solace I could find to soothe myself mentally was that as immature as his pranks are, he wouldn't go for the same one twice.

He wouldn't, would he?

I slid the key card down through the lock and as soon as I heard the soft click to alert me that the door was unlocked, I grasped the handle and turned it only slightly to open it a crack. I peeked inside and saw nothing to alert me. I opened the door a bit further and stuck my head inside cautiously and still, nothing. Okay, so Nick had me paranoid. So what? If you had went through what that prankster put me through you'd be looking over your shoulder constantly as well. How Mister Parker endured this for all those years they worked together in the same promotions is beyond me.

Satisfied that everything was clear, I slipped inside of my room and shut the door behind me, making certain to lock it. I dropped the key card in the dish on the dresser beside the door and stepped further in, looking around. Everything looked the same as when I left, save for the linens being changed by the hotel staff and a new package of coffee set on the counter, ready to be made of use early in the morning.

Like I need the help in staying awake. My problems sleeping have been growing worse ever since that security guard at the airport confiscated my pain meds. I haven't been able to replace them since I've been to Europe and it's made my time here an absolute hell as opposed to the unique and fun experience that I know it should have been. I could probably visit a doctor but word would most likely get back to the staff of SCW, and thus get back to Mister Parker in the States. Not a risk I'm willing to take the way Nick and his cronies have been following me off and on, I imagine trying to find openings to set me up for yet another of their practical jokes. I know I should follow Mister Parker and Mister Ward's advice and just give him a taste of his own medicine to get him off of my back, but it's just not my style. So it looks like I'm just going to have to suffer for the rest of this trip on both accounts, until I get back to the States, get to my doctor and as far away from Nick Jones as I can possibly get.

I walked over to my bed and looked at the clock and saw that it was a little later than I expected. Just after 11PM and my room mate still wasn't back from doing ... whatever it was that he might be doing here in Germany. Probably sampling one of the ten thousand different brands and flavors of beer I hear that they've made famous. I can only hope he doesn't sample the wares too much, or else he might bring back some eager young fan and the two might put on a show I have little interest in watching. I myself stayed out long enough. I'd prefer to just go straight to bed.

I turned at the waist to head for my dresser and a pain went up along my side and I winced. The feeling settled in my left shoulder blade and just stayed there, a heavy sensation that just bordered on throbbing. I wasn't in agony per se, but it was annoying. And if I didn't do something to relax it before bed without my pain killers, then by morning I'd think I was in agony. I had some aspirin I could take, so that with a scalding hot shower should do the trick.

I hoped.

I slid out the drawer at the end table beside my bed and grabbed the bottle of Ibuprofren. I walked over to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I took the small courtesy glass and filled it with water at the sink, then popped the cap off of the aspirin bottle and tossed the maximum dosage into the palm of my hand. I shoveled the pills into my mouth and washed them down with a heavy swallow of the water. There was nothing else to do but jump in the shower and wait for the meds to kick in while the hot water (hopefully) worked a minor miracle with these aches.

I pulled my shirt off over my head and hung it on the hook on the back of the bathroom door, then looked at myself in the mirror. Earlier this evening at the club I got dragged to by some of the guys, a couple of young German ladies, shall we say ... asked to be my company for the evening. Not to sound modest but I'm not really seeing why, but if I have to be truthful, part of me is kicking myself that I didn't take them up on the offer. I know having those after-show flings that so many other guys do on the circuit do hasn't been a regular thing in my resume, but there are times I ask myself, "What would be the harm so long as it's done safely?"

Oh well, such is life. It's not something I can turn back the clock on so let's call it a night, shall we? I finished getting undressed and stepped into the shower, pulling the curtains closed. I turned on the hot water and then just a hint of the cold, holding my hand under the water to judge how hot I would be able to withstand it. Satisfied, I then turned the knob in the center for the full blast of water from the shower head and ... nothing happened. I frowned and grasped the knob and made certain I had turned it in the right direction, but the fact that the water was no longer flowing through the faucet was a good enough sign as any. The shower head had to be clogged, which was strange as it was fine before.

I looked up and saw something bright blue was leaking out slowly through the small holes when suddenly the last thing I can recall seeing was a hot blast of something bright blue gushing directly in my face!

I let out a rather sharp and surprised shout. I fell back hard against the wall of the shower and landed right on my backside, luckily without getting hurt or further aggravating my injury! I started to get up rather hastily and whatever this was, I slipped and fell right back down.

"Son of a....!" I shouted as I struggled for a few moments to get my footing, spitting rather audibly as this foul tasting stuff was running down my face and getting in my mouth! I couldn't even open my eyes as they were stinging pretty badly and this stuff while wet, felt strangely thick! I slid over onto my knees and reached blindly for the shower knobs and turned all three off before I finally got to my feet, and practically fell out of the shower and onto the bathroom floor.

"Damn it!" I called out hoarsely and a fresh stream of this... whatever it was, ran into my mouth, prompting me into a fresh act of spitting. That was when I heard the raucous laughter emanating from outside the bathroom door and in my room.

I groped blindly (again!) and found one of the many towels the hotel provided and snatched it and started to wipe at my eyes as best I could. I tested my vision and my God did my eyes sting! I had to keep squinting and even that wasn't fool proof. My vision was blurred for the moment and I looked down, and saw to my embarrassment, that I was covered from head to toe with blue ink or blue paint ... well whatever it was, it was blue! The laughter was ongoing so I managed to stand up and wrap the towel around my waist as best I could.

For the record? For such a nice hotel these towels don't leave much to the imagination!

I opened the door to the bathroom and didn't have to see it to know a camera flash went off.

"Gee Bo, why so blue?" A voice called out which instigated a fresh wave of shrieking laughter. I didn't need to be able to see to know that voice belonged to my blasted tag team partner and current tormentor, Nick Jones.

"Nick..." I started to say but kept spitting the fouls tuff from my lips. "Why do you have to act so damn much like an immature brat!?" (I spit again.)

"Because it's funny man!" Nick's voice filled with merriment answered me. I then heard another voice say.

"I didn't think it's work boss! Ha ha! Paint beads in da shower head! Brilliant!"

"Well I hate to brag..."

"Since when?"

"Hm, touche'! Ha ha ha!"

I had enough. "Get out!" I yelled as loudly as I possibly could. The laughter stopped, surprised by I could still hear the subdued snickering. "Get out before I call security!"

A female voice said, "Someone needs to go souvenir shopping and get themselves a sense of humor."

"C'mon guys." Nick's voice said. "This picture is so going online!"

The laughter died out behind the sound of my hotel door closing. I squinted and managed to see for myself that my little group of tormentors had indeed exited my room. I stepped back into the bathroom and pulled my towel off and again tried to wipe at my face. I then slowly lowered the towel from my face and stared hard into the mirror.

I've had quite enough of Nick Jones and his practical jokes.



"Seriously. What can be said about the ring legend that is Jordan Williams that someone else hasn't said already? As a fan, I've seen photos in magazines and news websites of his trophy case at his house. The man has held more championship gold than almost anyone I can think of. Including multiple reigns, the man has had fifty six championship belts around his waist. Fifty six! That is unheard of. It bests records held by such legends as Ric Flair and Bret Hart. The only others I know of that can match that record or best it would be the tag team dynasty of TSSA, Chippendale and Thunder."

"I watched Jordan's career for years. Not to crack an age joke but I was still in school when he was at the height of his ring career and I watched many of his matches. I still recall the match where Mister Parker defeated Jordan to score the GPW Intercontinental Championship. It was an interesting match to watch because the two have had a long and distinguished past together, dating back to the old IWA. It was interesting to watch them in old school territories, where in one match they'd be tag team partners, and the following week they'd be fighting each other for a championship. When Mister Parker dropped his old ring moniker of 'Romeo' and went by his given name (and took on a somewhat tougher role in the ring), the days of their teaming together was over and when they met in the ring, it was as opponents, not partners."

"It feels somehow nostalgic now, to find myself in the ring against a former partner and opponent of the man who trained me to enter the business. Almost like I inherited the mantle Mister Parker once shared against the man. I have heard different people voice the opinions that this respective history will give one or the other an advantage when we meet in the ring. The trick is, who has that advantage?"

"Knowing Mister Parker for as long as he has, he probably knows that my style in the ring pretty much reflects his own. And knowing Mister Parker for so many years, Jordan might have an edge in knowing what I might be capable of or what I might be about to do against him in a match. On the other hand, knowing Jordan for as long as he has, it's just possible Mister Parker has shared a number of secrets and strategy sessions that would benefit me against this ring peer."

"Now, you have to wonder .... who's right? Between you and me, I can't wait to step into that ring and see just what can be done against one of the best this business has ever produced. I've been told a number of times by a number of people that as skilled as Jordan Williams is, he's just as arrogant in knowing it. Well, I imagine that it's hard to be humble when you're a proven commodity in the business. His record and arrogance (if it's true), only tell me one thing; I have to be ready. I have been in the ring with legends already, Tom Dudely for example. I came out on top then, and I intend to come out on top now."

"I refuse to give Nick Jones the satisfaction of holding it over my head if our team were to go down in defeat."



It obviously paid to be a close friend of one of the bosses, or maybe it's because he's the Champion, I don't know, but now that I'm standing inside of Nick's hotel suite all I could think of was ... wow. Most of the other wrestlers, myself included, were sharing rooms to save on finances, and I imagine Nick fit that entourage of his somewhere in here but I imagine the majority of the comforts were for His Majesty. I looked around, indulging myself as I heard the shower running behind closed doors, and marveled that the size of this hotel room was about as big as the entirety of the first floor of my own house. It wasn't as tidy or well kept though. Clothes and bags, DVDs and the like were strewn about, probably waiting for the hotel staff to clean up for them.

How dare someone even think that the Champion should clean up after himself!

The nicest part of this hotel was the fact it had a sliding door the led to a patio outside, right on the boulevard of the busy German city street. I had admired this when I first arrived here and now I understood how probable it was from the very beginning that this room would have been booked ahead for Nick's own use. It was superficial. It was frivolous.

It was perfect.

The shower suddenly stopped so it was now or never. I hurried over toward the wicker curtains and drew them over the patio door so that Nick would not see outside of it, and tucked myself behind the wicker room divider that was set up just to the left of the door. I reached out and gave the glass a hard knock.

"What the..." I heard being mumbled audibly behind the bathroom door, so I did what anyone in my position would do. I knocked again on the glass.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" The now angry voice called out and I heard the bathroom door open and the heavy footfalls of the champ emerging from the bathroom, the steaming misty rising through the door frame. "Can't a man have a god damn shower to relax without... B you better not have lost your key to get in here!"

I watched the shadow pass across the room and toward my position. Nick walked up to the patio door and in his haste, did not even bother to draw aside the curtains to see when he swung the patio door open and I knew a cue if there ever was one.

"B, you miserable little..." But the last thing to escape from his mouth was a yelp of surprise as I came out from my hiding spot, and with one hand yanked the towel off of his body, and with the other, shoved him right outside onto the patio! I quickly slammed the patio door shut and with a flip of the wrist, locked it.

Nick spun around, instinctively covering himself (thank God), and his stunned expression spoke volumes. I just met his gaze and waved "buh-bye" to him and calmly let the curtains fall back into place. I walked toward the door, leaving the banging against the patio and angry shouting in my wake. it was alright if he told Austin or Mister ward, or whomever else he wanted to tattle on me to. It's not like he'd get anywhere.

Bo doesn't do things like that.