SLC - Day 4 (Continued)
I've got one and a half days left in America to enjoy, there's no wrestling left to be done, and I've managed to save quite abit of money, despite the food shopping and going out to eat nearly everynight. I'm being driven by Jake Shannon (of scientificwrestling.com (one day I'll be paid to advertise)) and after one final goodbye and thankyou to Billy, we headed towards my hotel. On the way, the sundance film festival is brought up. Why? Because it's taking place in about three days and was being held within driving distance of where I was staying. On one hand I'm glad I didn't know this prior to booking my flights and hotel because I didn't end up spending all my money and staying in America for the festival, on the other hand a part of me wished I'd ended up spending all my money and staying in America for the festival. I wasn't going to dwell on this though because Jake suggested going up and looking around, with the day I had left in America, to see if I could find any actors or directors who'd turned up early. This sounded appealing. Although I hadn't commited the date and location of the festival to memory, I did know a film called Red State was opening at Sundance. Written and directed by one of my favourite writer/directors Kevin Smith (or as some people know him, Silent Bob). I didn't think there was a huge chance I was going to bump into the man himself, but if I didn't at least give it a go I'd always wonder, wouldn't I?
At my hotel I give another final thankyou and goodbye, this time to Jake. Grab a much needed shower and go out for what was to be my last dinner in Salt Lake City. Don't worry I'm not going to blab on and compare the food to the stuff in Manchester, because this time I had something I'd never seen on a menu in England, sweet and sour tofu. Quick review: amazing. Name of the restaurant: Thaifoon. There, a quick and painless amatuer review to end day 4 with, because after eating there really isn't anything worth of note, unless you want me to start a book review section in this blog too.
SLC - Day 5
I've got the whole day to myself, money in my pocket, and an ipod playing The Beatles. Time to hunt for Silent Bob.
Park City has a very strange mix of tourist gimmicks. First, there's this big theme of skiing and snowboarding on the majority of souvenirs. Okay I get that, it's a pretty logical idea considering the snowy mountains. The second thing you'll notice is alot of new age merchandise e.g. dreams catchers, books on tarot cards, etc. Still on track, I suppose. Being one with the land and the land being quite beautiful around here. The third and final thing really doesn't fit when you consider the first two. Cowboys. Specifically alot of shops selling boots, hats, jackets and belt buckles, all designed to make the statement "No I don't like to ski or have my palm read and yes John Wayne is my hero. " Every shop sold something to do with one of the above, or was a bookshop. This ment that if you visit four shops, you've pretty much seen the majority of what's on sale in Park City. Unlike Salt Lake, this place obviously relied on tourism as a main source of income.
Apart from the repetitive shopping experience, there was a good selection of cafes and restaurants, as well as a sweet shop that looked like something from Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory (the first and easily superior film, incase there was any confusion). I did still need to grab a gift or two for my parents, because I knew the first thing my dad would say would be something along the lines of "Did you get me anything?" So a quick trip to the local sweet shop seemed like a good idea. Although I did toy with the idea of getting him a ridiculous looking cowboy hat for awhile, I think the price difference between a selection of treats and a hard wearing hat might've been key in how I made my decision.
After grabbing some sugar I was pretty much stuck for things to do inbetween lunch and dinner so I ended up spending time in a cosy cafe, eating banana bread, drinking coffee, and reading a book. There was no sign of anyone famous to harass for pictures and autographs, but I was glad to have made the trip down, even if it did inspire me to formulate and disregard a plan that'd allow me to stay in Utah for Sundance. It'd been a miniature adventure within the large one I was already having and, if nothing else, I got visit sushi bars for lunch and dinner. There was plently of them, so much so I felt spoiled for choice.
Super Sushi Boy Section:
Lunch
Restaurant: Yaki Arashi
Dinner:
Restaurant: Oishi
Dish of the Day: Tamago Sushi (Yaki Arashi)
SLC - Day 6 - The Journey Home
My time in Utah and the US of A had come to an end. It was time to head home. I'm terrible at wrapping up stories, but this blog has taken far too long to write (because of real life) so I must try my best. In short, the trip back was good, great, and other tautologies. It was two plane trips, as opposed to the three I had taken getting there, and without the fear of flying I actually quite enjoyed the whole experience. There is one finally little story that, if nothing else, justifies me actually adding a Day 6 to these blogs, rather than just saying "and I got home safe and sound." Before my second flight, the one that would take me back home sweet home, I picked up what my mum would describe as a "healthy portion" of chicken and rice. This, of course, in no way reflects the quality of food, merely quantity. I brought this onto the plane with me, as either a pre-dinner or a post-dinner meal, depending on how I felt, due to the flight being so long. I get settled in my seat and just as I'm opening the styrofoam lid a stewardess asks me "Excuse me, are you having a vegetarian meal?" I'm not a vegetarian, but I do diet. When you're traveling and you're being given your food, there's no guarantee it'll be something you can eat according to your diet. Two things I don't have is cows milk and red meat, so when I was sorting out my tickets online I made sure to choose the vegan meal option, which essentially means the healthy option. However, if the stewardess had been five seconds later with her question, she'd have found me tucking into sweet and sour chicken, making my airplane dining choices seem like a very strange one. Luckily I shut the lid in time, smiled, and told the kind lady I had indeed ordered the vegan meal. However, after she had gone, I was left wondering if I'd get strange looks from my fellow passengers, who'd just heard that I don't eat meat, if I started to do the exact opposite. This is when I realised I don't know any of these people and they don't know me ("yet!" added my narcissism) so who cares if I get strange looks, at least I'll have a full stomach.
The rest of the flight went perfect. The plane wasn't full so I was offered to move to a pair of empty seats and enjoy the rest of the flight away from strangers and strange glances at the man who orders vegan food and snacks on chicken. I fell asleep after dinner and woke within a few hours of landing. I'd gained six hours on the flight back which ment that I'd left on a Tuesday and landed on a Wednesday, and Wednesday was the day I went to Wigan to train. "What better oppotunity to practise the moves I'd been taught this weekend?" I thought. I arrived home, unpacked my case, packed my training bag, and headed out to Aspull. When I arrived I told Roy (my coach) that I'd just been to see Billy Robinson and Roy replied, with a smile, "Did he show you any suplexes Jack?"
Too bloody right he did.
Showing posts with label Billy Robinson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Billy Robinson. Show all posts
Saturday, 19 March 2011
Saturday, 26 February 2011
SLC Volume 4: Jack Gallagher vs. The Double Wrist Lock
SLC - Day 4
It's my second and final day with Billy. I'm picked up at the same time as yesterday and we train for a little longer than we did the day before. Like I said previously, describing training is never fun, so instead I want to write about Billy, because he's a character and he made a lasting impression on him.
I must have talked his cauliflower ears off over the weekend. Asking him every question I could manage. "Do you have any stories about Verne Gagne, Billy?" "Have you ever met Danny Hodge?" "Do you still speak to the Destroyer?" Honestly I would've been happy listening to him talk for a weekend, I'm just not sure if he'd have the patience to answer every question a twenty year old could think up about All Japan Pro Wrestling, though. That doesn't mean to say he didn't have stories. He had plently and gladly indulged me in my curiosity. Although the thing that stands out most about Billy, is that he's funny. He can make you laugh with a story or a phrase, my favourite of the the whole weekend being "grab the bastard, I mean the opponent and..." It was nice to meet someone you look up to and actually find they don't ruin the image that's built up in your head. He was a gravelly voiced coach who knew so much about his sport and how to teach it. It's all I could've asked for. The fact he was so gracious in showing me his actual signature moves was move than I could've asked for.
It was only at the end of the day that everything really hit home for me. We were spending the last hour or so focusing on the double wrist lock. The first catch wrestling move I ever saw and the signature hold of my hero Kazushi Sakuraba. At one point Billy used me as a dumby to explain the finer points in the application and it was only as I was getting back to my feet I realised that a few years ago I was watching Billy Robinson teach that hold and mention how his "boy Sakuraba beat the Gracies with it," and now here I was having the same man apply that hold to me. It felt like a fitting end to the weekend and motivation for me to continue training hard.
Billy made sure we all had his email address and number incase we needed his advice or just wanted to contact him. He made sure I had a spare buisness card for me to hand to my coach, Roy, back in Wigan. Although as I write this I still haven't messaged him. I think I'm still looking for something meaningful to ask him (you never want to come across like the village idiot to someone you respect, do you?). I'm sure I'll think of something. If not, you can never say "thank you" too many times, can you?
Although this was a short one the next post will be much longer as it's the final one of the SLC series. We'll cover what I did after training that day, how I spent my final full day in America, and the trip back home. Amatuer food reviews aplenty.
Jack G.
It's my second and final day with Billy. I'm picked up at the same time as yesterday and we train for a little longer than we did the day before. Like I said previously, describing training is never fun, so instead I want to write about Billy, because he's a character and he made a lasting impression on him.
I must have talked his cauliflower ears off over the weekend. Asking him every question I could manage. "Do you have any stories about Verne Gagne, Billy?" "Have you ever met Danny Hodge?" "Do you still speak to the Destroyer?" Honestly I would've been happy listening to him talk for a weekend, I'm just not sure if he'd have the patience to answer every question a twenty year old could think up about All Japan Pro Wrestling, though. That doesn't mean to say he didn't have stories. He had plently and gladly indulged me in my curiosity. Although the thing that stands out most about Billy, is that he's funny. He can make you laugh with a story or a phrase, my favourite of the the whole weekend being "grab the bastard, I mean the opponent and..." It was nice to meet someone you look up to and actually find they don't ruin the image that's built up in your head. He was a gravelly voiced coach who knew so much about his sport and how to teach it. It's all I could've asked for. The fact he was so gracious in showing me his actual signature moves was move than I could've asked for.
It was only at the end of the day that everything really hit home for me. We were spending the last hour or so focusing on the double wrist lock. The first catch wrestling move I ever saw and the signature hold of my hero Kazushi Sakuraba. At one point Billy used me as a dumby to explain the finer points in the application and it was only as I was getting back to my feet I realised that a few years ago I was watching Billy Robinson teach that hold and mention how his "boy Sakuraba beat the Gracies with it," and now here I was having the same man apply that hold to me. It felt like a fitting end to the weekend and motivation for me to continue training hard.
Billy made sure we all had his email address and number incase we needed his advice or just wanted to contact him. He made sure I had a spare buisness card for me to hand to my coach, Roy, back in Wigan. Although as I write this I still haven't messaged him. I think I'm still looking for something meaningful to ask him (you never want to come across like the village idiot to someone you respect, do you?). I'm sure I'll think of something. If not, you can never say "thank you" too many times, can you?
Although this was a short one the next post will be much longer as it's the final one of the SLC series. We'll cover what I did after training that day, how I spent my final full day in America, and the trip back home. Amatuer food reviews aplenty.
Jack G.
Sunday, 13 February 2011
SLC Volume 3: Jack Gallagher vs. The Double Underhook Suplex
SLC - Day 3
I wake up early because there's no chance in hell I'm waking up late today. Go through the motions of getting breakfast, mailing friends and family to keep them updated, and exercising, before I'm out infront of the hotel waiting to be picked up. I'm about half way through Hey Jude by the time the van rolls up.
"Jack?"
"Yeah."
"Hop on in."
From the videos I've seen online I know it's Jake. I jump into the backseat with two other guys who're planning on training this weekend. We get the introductions out of the way before settling into some wrestling related banter. We're only talking for a few minutes before the person in the passengers seat speaks and I nearly jump out of my skin when he does. It's Billy. He has a very distinctive voice so there was no mistaking him. I didn't even realise he was in the car because as I was picked up, I looked past him to speak to Jake. Luckily I didn't jump out of my skin, or in my seat. We make it to the gym shortly after, get changed, and wait for training to begin. The first day is going to be based around stand up wrestling. In other words, taking the opponent down to the floor as well as getting back to your feet from the ground. After one or two familiar moves, we get into some not so familiar territory. This training was worth the travel.
We break around the three hour mark to eat lunch and note down what we'd gone over (because the camp was more about introducing you to the moves and you drill them at a later date, that way we covered more ground with the same amount of time). It's during this time Billy comes up to me and tells me to grab a partner so he can teach me a move that might've been worth this whole trip alone, the double underhook suplex. For anyone not familiar with wrestling, why are you reading a blog entitled Grapple Days? (I'm kidding, please keep reading) No, for people who aren't so acquainted with wrestling, the double underhook suplex is Billy's signature move. His "finisher," to use the modern vernacular. Taught to him by an Greco-Roman wrestling gold medalist, who actually used the throw to win the gold medal. Needless to say, there's a pedigree to this move and I was so appreciative to be shown it because I'd mentioned it to Billy in passing, and never thought twice that he'd actually teach how to do it. I get my hands in the right position, step in, and over the guy goes. Okay, that felt too easy for me to be doing it right. Billy says that's it, but he got it as good as he did because he drilled it for a week, on all different body types, tall guys, short guys, wide guys, thin guys, etc. Just that move, over and over for a week straight, and if I want to get good at it, I'm going to have to practise it in a similar fashion. I make a mental note of that for when I get back to England, and ask "Billy, what's the heaviest I should be looking at to suplex?"
"About twice your bodyweight," he says. Okay, that's over three hundred pounds... no wonder the suplex felt so easy on someone my own weight.
After being taught two more, equally nice, new suplexs, we're back in the full group and going over more moves. Honestly, me trying to describe and breakdown why this training was good, will become tedious and unreadable, so you'll have to take my word for it. It was very good training.
I'd done about 8 to 9 hours of training by the time we wrapped up the first day. I made an arrangement to hang out with a couple of the guys and got drove back to the hotel. I'm tired, primarily because I woke up earlier than usual and I'd been lacking a source of coffee all day. I flick the coffee maker in my room on and jump into a much needed shower. Clean and armed with caffine I sit at the table by the door and begin to write up notes from today. I fell asleep on the table after the first page.
I wake up to a knock at my door. Thank god I got dressed after my shower. It's the guys from training. We head out and look downtown for somewhere to eat, which ment we walked around looking for a place that does good ribs, quit, and went to the nearest place that sold something appealing. Over chinese food and sandwiches, I acted like the moron of a tourist I'd become these last few days and asked how much exactly is a dime (because there's no number on a dime to actually tell you how much it's worth. It's not like a quarter, where it's obviously a quarter of a dollar). My ignorance was not taunted but it did lead us onto all the other uses of dime in American slang, which brought us to British slang and swears too. I'd just like to state now, that cockney rhyming slang is hilarious when you have to explain the concept out loud.
"So, you rhyme what you mean with something else. Dog and bone becomes phone, right? But only dog and bone can mean phone, you can't just rhyme phone with anything."
What kind of country comes up with a concept like that?
In the next post it's back to the mats with Billy for some ground work.
Jack G.
I wake up early because there's no chance in hell I'm waking up late today. Go through the motions of getting breakfast, mailing friends and family to keep them updated, and exercising, before I'm out infront of the hotel waiting to be picked up. I'm about half way through Hey Jude by the time the van rolls up.
"Jack?"
"Yeah."
"Hop on in."
From the videos I've seen online I know it's Jake. I jump into the backseat with two other guys who're planning on training this weekend. We get the introductions out of the way before settling into some wrestling related banter. We're only talking for a few minutes before the person in the passengers seat speaks and I nearly jump out of my skin when he does. It's Billy. He has a very distinctive voice so there was no mistaking him. I didn't even realise he was in the car because as I was picked up, I looked past him to speak to Jake. Luckily I didn't jump out of my skin, or in my seat. We make it to the gym shortly after, get changed, and wait for training to begin. The first day is going to be based around stand up wrestling. In other words, taking the opponent down to the floor as well as getting back to your feet from the ground. After one or two familiar moves, we get into some not so familiar territory. This training was worth the travel.
We break around the three hour mark to eat lunch and note down what we'd gone over (because the camp was more about introducing you to the moves and you drill them at a later date, that way we covered more ground with the same amount of time). It's during this time Billy comes up to me and tells me to grab a partner so he can teach me a move that might've been worth this whole trip alone, the double underhook suplex. For anyone not familiar with wrestling, why are you reading a blog entitled Grapple Days? (I'm kidding, please keep reading) No, for people who aren't so acquainted with wrestling, the double underhook suplex is Billy's signature move. His "finisher," to use the modern vernacular. Taught to him by an Greco-Roman wrestling gold medalist, who actually used the throw to win the gold medal. Needless to say, there's a pedigree to this move and I was so appreciative to be shown it because I'd mentioned it to Billy in passing, and never thought twice that he'd actually teach how to do it. I get my hands in the right position, step in, and over the guy goes. Okay, that felt too easy for me to be doing it right. Billy says that's it, but he got it as good as he did because he drilled it for a week, on all different body types, tall guys, short guys, wide guys, thin guys, etc. Just that move, over and over for a week straight, and if I want to get good at it, I'm going to have to practise it in a similar fashion. I make a mental note of that for when I get back to England, and ask "Billy, what's the heaviest I should be looking at to suplex?"
"About twice your bodyweight," he says. Okay, that's over three hundred pounds... no wonder the suplex felt so easy on someone my own weight.
After being taught two more, equally nice, new suplexs, we're back in the full group and going over more moves. Honestly, me trying to describe and breakdown why this training was good, will become tedious and unreadable, so you'll have to take my word for it. It was very good training.
I'd done about 8 to 9 hours of training by the time we wrapped up the first day. I made an arrangement to hang out with a couple of the guys and got drove back to the hotel. I'm tired, primarily because I woke up earlier than usual and I'd been lacking a source of coffee all day. I flick the coffee maker in my room on and jump into a much needed shower. Clean and armed with caffine I sit at the table by the door and begin to write up notes from today. I fell asleep on the table after the first page.
I wake up to a knock at my door. Thank god I got dressed after my shower. It's the guys from training. We head out and look downtown for somewhere to eat, which ment we walked around looking for a place that does good ribs, quit, and went to the nearest place that sold something appealing. Over chinese food and sandwiches, I acted like the moron of a tourist I'd become these last few days and asked how much exactly is a dime (because there's no number on a dime to actually tell you how much it's worth. It's not like a quarter, where it's obviously a quarter of a dollar). My ignorance was not taunted but it did lead us onto all the other uses of dime in American slang, which brought us to British slang and swears too. I'd just like to state now, that cockney rhyming slang is hilarious when you have to explain the concept out loud.
"So, you rhyme what you mean with something else. Dog and bone becomes phone, right? But only dog and bone can mean phone, you can't just rhyme phone with anything."
What kind of country comes up with a concept like that?
In the next post it's back to the mats with Billy for some ground work.
Jack G.
Monday, 31 January 2011
SLC Volume 1: Jack Gallagher vs. The Sky
As I've mentioned before, my style of wrestling stems from the Lancashire style of Catch Wrestling and I regularly train with Roy Wood (not the lead singer of Wizard). I have failed to mention previously, due to a terrible slip of the mind, that the first real exposure I had to the style was through a wrestler by the name of Billy Robinson. A few years ago, before I'd stepped a foot in Aspull, I happened across a video on youtube of an old pro wrestler (Billy) torturing two poor MMA fighters with what he called "the double wrist lock." He broke every part of the move down into such detail, knowing what to do and what not to do, as well as why. I was amazed. During the whole video "scientificwrestling.com" was shown at the bottom. I typed it in and found an American based site, which ment the training was American based and there wasn't much chance that the old wrestling coach would be wandering down my street anytime soon. Too bad. Although not long after that I rediscovered UWFi and that lead me to Kazushi Sakuraba, which is what finally got me on a train to Wigan.
It all started with Billy Robinson and that double wrist lock.
Flash forward about 2 years and you've got me, sitting at my laptop, fresh from a flight back from Salt Lake City Utah. Head filled with a gravelly voice shouting "Do it again! Do it again!" I'll be waking up for weeks hearing that voice. I've just got back from seeing Billy.
SLC - The Preliminaries
Whenever I have to make a decision which takes me out of my routine, and therefore out of my comfort zone, I have to make it as soon as possible otherwise I'll procrastinate and over think the situation and it'll never get done. I was spending some of my, increasing sparse, free time watching wrestling videos. Specifically watching Antonio Inoki get belly to belly suplexed over the top rope, for maybe the seventh time, when I started thinking about my training and where I was going and goals I'd set and so on. I always try and keep myself moving foward, and moving towards somewhere that I'd want to be. I felt like I needed a change. Something to kick me in the arse and get me running again. So after rewinding and watching Inoki go over the top rope for the eighth time, I looked to his opponent, Billy Robinson.
I knew Billy had been doing Catch wrestling certifications every five or six months (the certifications are to modern day Catch what the grading systems are to Eastern martial arts i.e. to stop any old idiot running around claiming he's a master) for the last few years. I started thinking that what I needed was a pseudo holiday. Get away from everything for a few days, change of scenery, and meet and train with one of the greatest wrestlers of all time. Sounded like a good plan.
SLC - Day 1 - Travel
A few months after I make that decision I'm sat in my kitchen, at about six in the morning, double checking every I need is packed. Clothes (check), training gear (check), books (check), protein power ((God, I hope they don't think it's drugs) check), I'm ready. I've given myself more than enough time to get to the airport and check in. Everything runs fine. I check in, grab a snack (my first of what was to be many servings of sushi), and read a book, whilst keeping a constant eye on the board telling me when the airplane's ready.
I'd previously flown, but it had been years since I'd been on a plane and since my last international trip I felt I'd gotten a better grasp of the concept, and fear of, death. As a kid I never really thought twice about the plane crashing. As a twenty year old it seemed like the only thing I could think about. It didn't hit me until that first intial jolt of the engines, but once it did I felt my heart racing. Obviously everything went fine, because I'm typing this right now, but I'm just glad that no one was sitting next to me on that take off because my eyes were wide and my breathing didn't sound healthy. In short, I looked like I was having a panic attack. My mind flicked to that scene in Fight Club where Tyler is explaining that the reason they give you oxygen masks on an airplane is to get you high on pure air, which allows you to accept death easier. This didn't help. "Try to focus on something else," said some part of my mind, then another part of my brain decided that Final Destination was an equally good movie to remember at a time like this. Honestly I'm my own worst enemy. I imagined running up to the cockpit to ask the pilot to land the plane and let me off, but in my mind's eye the person who appeared on the otherside of the door wasn't me, it was Leslie Nielsen. He swung his head in and said "Good luck. We're all counting on you." Okay, that thought made me relax a little.
After a couple minutes of being in the air and a surprisingly nice meal, I relaxed a little more, but not much. I was trying not to fall asleep because I knew I wouldn't be dreaming anything comforting. Luckily I needed the tiolet. I say luckily because when I was stood in the bathroom I realised as long as I don't see an open window I'm fine with being in the air. I could just convince myself I was on a train. That made the hours alot easier to pass by and let me get some decent sleep. The first flight took me from Manchester to Las Vegas, after that I was going from Vegas to Atlanta, and then, finally, Atlanta to Salt Lake City.
Arriving in Vegas was weird. I was in America but I wasn't really going to get to see it properly for another few hours, because I had to stay in the airport. I'd have to wait until Utah before I got to look at anything other than airplanes and fast food. The next few flights went fine. I'd gotten over the near heart attack on the first trip of the day, so the remaining two were easy to deal with. Apart from forgetting I had a bottle of water in my bag and only realising after the bag was scanned ("Please don't think I'm a terrorist. Please don't think I'm a terrorist.") the rest of the day past without much interesting happening. I arrived in Utah near midnight, got to my hotel, and fell asleep by one. I'd gained seven hours traveling. I remember thinking that back in England people were probably leaving their front doors on the way to work, whilst I was just about to fall asleep in America.
On the next post I spend my first full day in Utah, getting the lay of the land, double checking training details, and begining what would become an adventure into as many sushi restaurants as I could find.
Jack G.
It all started with Billy Robinson and that double wrist lock.
Flash forward about 2 years and you've got me, sitting at my laptop, fresh from a flight back from Salt Lake City Utah. Head filled with a gravelly voice shouting "Do it again! Do it again!" I'll be waking up for weeks hearing that voice. I've just got back from seeing Billy.
SLC - The Preliminaries
Whenever I have to make a decision which takes me out of my routine, and therefore out of my comfort zone, I have to make it as soon as possible otherwise I'll procrastinate and over think the situation and it'll never get done. I was spending some of my, increasing sparse, free time watching wrestling videos. Specifically watching Antonio Inoki get belly to belly suplexed over the top rope, for maybe the seventh time, when I started thinking about my training and where I was going and goals I'd set and so on. I always try and keep myself moving foward, and moving towards somewhere that I'd want to be. I felt like I needed a change. Something to kick me in the arse and get me running again. So after rewinding and watching Inoki go over the top rope for the eighth time, I looked to his opponent, Billy Robinson.
I knew Billy had been doing Catch wrestling certifications every five or six months (the certifications are to modern day Catch what the grading systems are to Eastern martial arts i.e. to stop any old idiot running around claiming he's a master) for the last few years. I started thinking that what I needed was a pseudo holiday. Get away from everything for a few days, change of scenery, and meet and train with one of the greatest wrestlers of all time. Sounded like a good plan.
SLC - Day 1 - Travel
A few months after I make that decision I'm sat in my kitchen, at about six in the morning, double checking every I need is packed. Clothes (check), training gear (check), books (check), protein power ((God, I hope they don't think it's drugs) check), I'm ready. I've given myself more than enough time to get to the airport and check in. Everything runs fine. I check in, grab a snack (my first of what was to be many servings of sushi), and read a book, whilst keeping a constant eye on the board telling me when the airplane's ready.
I'd previously flown, but it had been years since I'd been on a plane and since my last international trip I felt I'd gotten a better grasp of the concept, and fear of, death. As a kid I never really thought twice about the plane crashing. As a twenty year old it seemed like the only thing I could think about. It didn't hit me until that first intial jolt of the engines, but once it did I felt my heart racing. Obviously everything went fine, because I'm typing this right now, but I'm just glad that no one was sitting next to me on that take off because my eyes were wide and my breathing didn't sound healthy. In short, I looked like I was having a panic attack. My mind flicked to that scene in Fight Club where Tyler is explaining that the reason they give you oxygen masks on an airplane is to get you high on pure air, which allows you to accept death easier. This didn't help. "Try to focus on something else," said some part of my mind, then another part of my brain decided that Final Destination was an equally good movie to remember at a time like this. Honestly I'm my own worst enemy. I imagined running up to the cockpit to ask the pilot to land the plane and let me off, but in my mind's eye the person who appeared on the otherside of the door wasn't me, it was Leslie Nielsen. He swung his head in and said "Good luck. We're all counting on you." Okay, that thought made me relax a little.
After a couple minutes of being in the air and a surprisingly nice meal, I relaxed a little more, but not much. I was trying not to fall asleep because I knew I wouldn't be dreaming anything comforting. Luckily I needed the tiolet. I say luckily because when I was stood in the bathroom I realised as long as I don't see an open window I'm fine with being in the air. I could just convince myself I was on a train. That made the hours alot easier to pass by and let me get some decent sleep. The first flight took me from Manchester to Las Vegas, after that I was going from Vegas to Atlanta, and then, finally, Atlanta to Salt Lake City.
Arriving in Vegas was weird. I was in America but I wasn't really going to get to see it properly for another few hours, because I had to stay in the airport. I'd have to wait until Utah before I got to look at anything other than airplanes and fast food. The next few flights went fine. I'd gotten over the near heart attack on the first trip of the day, so the remaining two were easy to deal with. Apart from forgetting I had a bottle of water in my bag and only realising after the bag was scanned ("Please don't think I'm a terrorist. Please don't think I'm a terrorist.") the rest of the day past without much interesting happening. I arrived in Utah near midnight, got to my hotel, and fell asleep by one. I'd gained seven hours traveling. I remember thinking that back in England people were probably leaving their front doors on the way to work, whilst I was just about to fall asleep in America.
On the next post I spend my first full day in Utah, getting the lay of the land, double checking training details, and begining what would become an adventure into as many sushi restaurants as I could find.
Jack G.
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