So there I was, making my way in to town on my lunch break, walking quickly because I only get an hour to be back at my desk. I was almost at my spiritual home, Queen Street, when the Keith Urban track I had been strutting along to on my iPod began to fade. The phone was ringing. It was my brother. What did he have to say?
REY MYSTERIO IS IN HMV!
AAAAAAARHH! I thought he was winding me up. I thought I might get there and find my brother standing in the doorway in a Lucha Libre mask. But no, Rey really was in HMV. I hung up the phone, threw it in my bag and hot-footed it down Queen Street. If I got to press palms with Rey, it would totally make up for the fact that I couldn’t attend any of this week’s British WWE shows. Yeh, I know…..wah-wah-wah! Poor me.
I got to HMV and started casing the joint like I was head of CSI Cardiff. Ok, ok, let me see here. Line of people waiting…..lots of peeps in wrestling t-shirts milling about….not-so-burly security monkies ushering fans in to a metal grid like a collie herding ewes……just need to see what time this whole shabang kicks off.
I located the poster…………
I had to be back in my crumby office in about 40 minutes and it was only 1:20pm. I was DEVASTED! I mean, come on, how am I supposed to just sit in my office signing off letters to people who don’t care about their contents when Rey Mysterio….Mr. 619 himself…….. is signing off WWE Encyclopedias a 15 minute walk away? Seriously, you be trippin’.
I love Rey. We’ve got the same name and, ok, the spelling is slighty off and mine is kind of a nickname for my full name, but still. Whether you’re a Ray or a Rey……we Rays gots an unspoken bond. Aaaaand he’s little. Short. Tiny. Like me. He probably has trouble seeing the stage at gigs (like me), his jeans probably drag along the pavement because standard jeans are too long (like me) and he no doubt has to suffer tall guys pressing their sweaty armpits in to his face when crushed on to a packed commuter train (like me).
Alright, so he probably doesn’t spend much time on public transport, but I’m sure if I got the chance to discuss this issue with him he’d TOTALLY get it. ‘Cause we’d be tight like that. If, you know, I ever got the opportunity to have a pow-wow with him. Ray and Rey Talk it Out…….sounds like an excellent title for a talk show.
I hung around the HMV area for a while, looking like a lost puppy, not knowing what to do with myself. I knew I had to go back to work and yet I could not tear myself away. Almost like waving someone off at the airport. You know you gotta go and yet you don’t wanna vacate the terminal until their plane had taken off. I called my brother to inform him that life pretty much sucks and in a cruel but kind of comical move he reminded me of that classic Simpsons episode where Homer goes in to space. Remember? Yes you do. Towards the middle off the episode Homer starts doubting whether he should go in to the cosmos or not…..as you do. The conversation ends something like this……………..
Homer: You’re right, Marge. Just like the time I could have met Mr. T at the mall. The entire day, I kept saying, ‘I’ll go a little later, I’ll go a little later…’ And when I got there, they told me he just left. And when I asked the mall guy if he’ll ever come back again, he said he didn’t know. Well, I’m never going to let something like that happen again!
ME = Homer
REY = Mr. T
I work on the premace that everything in my life has appeared in or can be explained by an episode of either The Simpsons or Seinfeld. Expect more references as we go along this Wrestlegasm journey together. Let’s hold hands.
I called my boyfriend and whined down the phone to him about my misfortune. I moaned about all the people wandering around in wrestling t-shirts. “Those are your people, Ray!” he guffawed down the phone. He tried to persuade me to ditch going back to work but it couldn’t be done. Blue of soul and heavy of heart I began sauntering my way back up Queen Street to make my way back to work. I shuffled my way past the growing line of people spewing out of HMV. If any of these people are you….Hi. I hate you.
I can only think that these people are one of the following:
- Students skipping lectures
- Children expelled from school for doing knee drops on each other in the playground
- Homeless folk mistakenly thinking they’ve found the soup kitchen line
Forgetting why I’d actually walked in to town in the first place and realising I still hadn’t had any lunch, I made my way in to the nearest Starbucks and ordered a grande Earl Grey with two tea-bags to cheer myself up. I had a quick look around to see if any of the wrestlers had popped in for a discreet soy latte. Well, you never know. I could have asked them to sign my cup. Alas, they did not appear. Maybe choosing the Starbucks opposite Pound-Land was a poor choice for wrestlegasm chasing. Cheapie shops don’t usually attract celebs.
The Earl Grey with two teabags did not cheer me up. In fact, my lid was leaky and dripped brown gunk all over my light grey linen trousers. I later found that those same trousers also managed to pick up someone’s berry-flavour chewing gum off the pavement on my way back to the office. Why do you hate me, universe?
I tried listening to Keith Urban singing Romeo’s Tune…..that always makes me feel light and airy. Nope! Not today. So I slipped in to full drama queen mode and listened to Carrie Underwood singing Just a Dream – possibly some of the saddest lyrics ever penned. The chorus goes a little something like this:
Baby why’d you leave me
Why’d you have to go?
I was counting on forever, now I’ll never know
I can’t even breathe
It’s like I’m looking from a distance
Standing in the background
Everybody’s saying, he’s not coming home now
This can’t be happening to me
This is just a dream
Ok, so this song is actually about a woman attending her soldier-husband’s military funeral. A little bit more traumatic than my situation. Ok, I feel bad about that now. Sorry about that. I’d cut it out, but I am telling a true story here.
I’ll laugh about this one day. One day….when I’m at Wrestlemania with my Media Pass swinging around my neck. The Media Pass that Vince McMahon put in my hand himself. That last part was a step too far. Lovely daydream though.
I’ll catch you next time you’re in town, Rey. Just gimme a buzz. The soy lattes are on me, babe. Yeeees, you can have yours in a cup with your face on it. *rolls eyes* Wrestlers, eh?