Back To Vegas

So last weekend I returned to Las Vegas. I hadn't been back since April. I wasn't exactly clamoring to return, but a friend of mine was celebrating her birthday, and I felt like I needed to get away. So I went to my house, and she brought her crew for the weekend. I honestly didn't know what to expect, especially considering the circumstances the last time I was there.

I don't need to go into all the details, but honest to say, I really had a great time. It was the first time I got to cook for people in months. I caught up with family, getting in on some of the gossip, and looking forward to all the baby showers, weddings, graduations and all the other excuses we had to get together. I played poker for the first time in a while and doubled my money. And we drove back safe, even getting to work on time at 6:30 Monday morning.

But I think what was most important for me was that for the first time, Las Vegas started to actually feel like home. As much as I hate some of the intense indulgence and cruelty of Sin City, and the awkward concoction of sadness, confusion, and uncertainty I feel whenever I glimpse at the Stratosphere, I've become more aware of the personal intimacies of the city. Maybe it's just going around the city a few times more. Maybe it's all the friends I manage to run into when I'm there. Maybe it's the compelling stories of romance and tragedy that have touched my family and the families of my friends. But whatever Las Vegas is, it's certainly more than the Strip and the showgirls.

Tribute To A Champion

If you don't already know, I'm a pro wrestling fan. I grew up watching the WWF, and even followed it after the transformation into the WWE. I'll admit that lately, and even most times, it's pretty offensive. It's racist, sexist, heterosexist, and exploited every stereotype in the book to sell. But every now and then, there's a moment where storyline, athleticism, and performance come together so exquisitely, where the show moves beyond the confines of sports entertainment, moves beyond all the simple stereotypes, and becomes unforgettable.

That night was February 12th, 2004. I was flipping through the channels, and at the time I really wasn't following wrestling because I was tremendously disappointed in the storylines. But I stumbled across "WWE Smackdown!" and thought that I should do a little catching up. The show was held in Tacoma, Washington. The WWE Champion at the time was Brock Lesnar. Lesnar was the prototypical champion: 6'2", 285 pounds, built like a linebacker, and white. However, because he was playing the heel (or "bad guy"), the writers were promoting him as a racist, and so to make fun of his opponent at the upcoming Pay-Per-View, No Way Out, he brought out a mariachi band, put on a sombrero, and did the "Mexican Hat Dance" to celebrate how he was going to decimate his Mexican opponent.

As the band played, his opponent, Eddie Guerrero, ran down the ramp, chased the band out, and ripped the sombrero off Lesnar's head, incensed at Lesnar's gall. Now, under ordinary circumstances, the writers would have had Eddie say some crap about Lesnar's manhood, test of machismo, blah blah blah. But these were not ordinary circumstances. And Eddie Guerrero was no ordinary wrestler.

This was Eddie Guerrero's first opportunity for the WWE title. He also didn't look like a traditional WWE champion. Born in El Paso Texas, Eddie grew up in a wrestling family and trained as a Mexican luchador, which is more known for it's high-flying acrobatics, unlike the steroid-induced power-lifters that the WWF/WWE traditionally pushed. But more significantly, Guerrero was battling some very real personal demons. He was an alcoholic. He had abused pain-killers. The addictions had destroyed his family life, and more than once had his career. So to climb back to be on the verge of reaching the pinnacle of professional wrestling was more than just some writer's storyline. This was Eddie's life.

So when Eddie took the mic that night for his promo (speech), he transcended his wrestling persona. He admitted his past addictions. He admitted his mistakes. But he swore to God that he won his life back. And he admitted found some new addictions. He found his addiction to his family. He found his addiction to performing in front of his fans. And he had found his addiction to championship gold.

Good promos make you grin. Great promos make you cheer. But Eddie's promo made me do something that none other had done before. Eddie's promo made me cry.

And so with that the stage was set for No Way Out 2004. And on February 14th, 2004, in the Cow Palace in San Francisco, in an emotional, grueling, and breathtaking 30-minute battle, with the help of some "Lyin', Cheatin' and Stealin'" the most unlikely of champions was crowned. Eddie Guerrero was the champion.

What made Guerrero's win even more unbelievable was that the winner was going to defend the title in March on the biggest stage in pro wrestling, Wrestlemania XX, in Madison Square Garden. Guerrero went on to successfully defend the title in the main event against Kurt Angle, a real-life former NCAA national wrestling champion and Gold Medal winner at the Olympic Games in Atlanta. He would also take part in another of wrestling's defining moments that night, when he stood in the middle of the ring and embraced his life-long friend, Chris Benoit, after he defied the odds to win the World Heavyweight Championship.

If you still have no idea what I'm talking about but are still curious as to what could get me this worked up, add a comment request either "Lesnar vs. Guerrero" or "Angle vs. Guerrero" and I'd be more than happy to send those files.

In the meantime, rest in peace, Eddie. I'll miss you. Viva La Raza!

What Are You Doing For Thanksgiving?

I have no plans, and I can't go home (since I'm working that Friday) so if you are in Southern California have room for another Pilipino for lunch or dinner, please give me a holler!