12-6-01

Wow, I almost wrote 11/6! I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas time. It’s December and the temperature in Atlanta hovers around 70 degrees. It sure doesn’t feel like the holidays to me. I’ve avoided the malls and that’s probably why.

I have thought and thought what this column should be about. Should it discuss the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941? As FDR said, “A day, which will live in infamy.” Maybe I should write about the “other war” being fought – you know, the one fought for parking spaces at the mall! I get so mad when the spirit of the people is supposed to be joyous (says who?), but the tempers seem shorter and negative emotion rules the day.

Since I’ve said all of the above – I’m not writing about any of it. I have received Missy Hyatt’s book as a gift and now that I think about it – EVERYBODY else has written a book (The Rock, Mick Foley, Kurt Angle and on and on) WHY DON’T I? I can think of a lot of reasons for not writing a “tell all” book. 

1. DIVORCE
2. Threats on my life (see # 1)
3. Breaking the code of the road – What happens on the road – STAYS ON THE ROAD!
4. The main reason is – No one would believe it!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Since I let you into my life every week for a few minutes, why don’t I share one of my favorite road stories with you? 

Before we get started, there’s one more reason I don’t write a book – I can’t/don’t remember half of the things that happened! I do remember this night and I smile every time I think about it.

In 1993, I was working in the WWF as Terrific Terry Taylor. The guys with whom I traveled were Ric Flair and The Million Dollar Man Ted DiBiase. Those were some of the best times I ever had – partying, telling stories in the car, and as Arn Anderson would say, “We roared” (drank & bar hopped) every chance we got. This one night in particular we were wrestling in the New York area - told you I can’t remember – and a friend from Philly named Robbie Kanoff came up from Philly in his limo. There are lots of details, like what a “fly by night” John the driver was and how much beer was on board, but we’ll keep going.

After the show we all pile into the limo and head into Manhattan to the China Club, which was THE spot at the time. The whole crew in Robbie’s limo that Saturday night was DiBiase, Flair, Robbie, me, and the Nasty Boys. We got into downtown New York around 12:30 AM. John got lost and we couldn’t find it. We did see a brand new club that had a line around the building to get in. This must be THE place for us to ‘take over’ and show how we fit in.

John parks the stretch limo right in front and comes in with us. The doorman was the size of the WWF’s “Big Show,” but was a good guy. He let us all in free without having to wait. We didn’t know the name of this place, but it had “us” written all over it! As we walked by, the big man said something to us to the effect, “You know this is the Bay Bar!” We said, “yeah, great, OK.” It was Miller Time. We had to go! 

As was customary, Ric bought every one’s drinks, which was something like $64.00 for 5 beers.

We were in awe of this club. It was even bigger inside than it looked on the outside and each of the three levels were rockin’ with the “beautiful people” dancing to the driving music.
As I looked around, something seemed……..out of place. There was something just not right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Ric and Ted were huge stars so they were surrounded by dozens of admirers – mostly female. They loved the attention and interacted closely with the other patrons.

I had to use the restroom and excused myself. As I rounded the corner into the men’s restroom – I almost emptied my bladder right then. I scanned the oversized facility and half the people using the rest room were – WOMEN! But these women were ‘going’ STANDING UP! I looked at the door to make sure I was in the correct room, I was! It was then that the doorman’s words began to make sense. He didn’t say this is the “BAY BAR,” yep, you guessed it – “This is a GAY BAR!”

I had a dilemma, how long was I going to wait to tell the others?

Keeping with “The Buddy System” – you readers that scuba dive know what this means – I whispered the information so as not to offend anyone. Of course, no one could hear me so I yelled at the top of my voice – “This is a Gay Bar,” just as the music stopped! The next five seconds were the longest of my life. We excused ourselves and ran for the door knowing the limo would be ready to whisk us to safety.

Or would it?

John, the designated drinker had been pounding them down right there with us.

“John, where’s the car,” we asked in unison. 

John says, “It WAS right here out front.”

The limo had been towed.

John and I went to the Police Impound lot to get the limo back as everyone else crammed into a cab. We met at Johnny Rockets at 2:00 AM, as they were about to close. Thank God for Ric Flair. Ric paid them to stay open and ordered 60 Kamikaze shots, which were lined up on the bar. 

There are so many more details, but I don’t want to write the whole book tonight.

At 5:00 AM, we finished the last Kamikaze shot and staggered out of Johnny Rocket’s, all except John our driver. He was passed out.

I don’t know why, but wrestlers only act this way the night before a double shot. A double shot is an afternoon show followed by frantic showering, then hectic driving to make it to an evening show the same day! Imagine having an upset stomach and headache while being bounced around in a wrestling ring. It’s bad enough to feel sick wrestling once, but twice? 

As I drove the limo through the Lincoln Tunnel at 5:30 AM, I looked back at the 6 snoring limp bodies rocking with every adjustment to the steering wheel! It was then that I knew we had a good time. I just didn’t know how good – until now.