Leaving at eight in the morning, there is a lot of grumbling from all of us about it being too early and that we were still too tired. We all fall asleep on the way down to Chicago. When we arrive, the driver has to shake us awake to get us into the hotel. By then, we all are hungry, so we rush in, get our suites and keys, drop all our stuff off in the suites, and rush back down to the main floor to the restaurant. After we fill up on great food, we chatter constantly about this being the last day of our trip, and that we'd have to go back home tomorrow.
When the time comes for us to leave, we are very excited. The arena is already crowded though it is early to be there. I can't stop thinking that this is my last shot at getting the only autograph that I want: the Undertaker's. All the time, that's all I could think. I can't focus totally on the night. Half of my brain is on the matches, shouting for whoever I want to win, the other half in my own, little realm that I created for myself many years back, thinking about the Undertaker.
The clearest thing I see is when the Taker comes down to the ring, and, in literary terms, "stabs" the Big Show in the back by letting the pack that consists of the Acolytes, Edge and Christian, X-Pac, Kane, and Road Dogg attack and dismantle him. I hear him say into the microphone with that sexy, Southern accent(not sure what it is anymore, whether it's Texan or not), "You are of no use to me anymore. You have gotten too weak, and too sloppy in your matches. More importantly, you have failed me!" I am in a daze; I can't believe this parting is finally happening. It's something a lot of the fans have wanted, and now, it's happening.
At the end of the night, we are ready to head to the backstage area. As we are picking up our jackets, signs, and trash, and heading toward the backstage door, our escort guard hurries up to us. "Where are you people going?" he bellows with a voice that sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard(brain bleep; couldn't think of any other sound).
"We have passes to go back here. They were paid for in advance." I reply.
"Sorry, not tonight," he tells me. "Redeem them for your next visit. You must be on your way."
"WHAT?!" we all exclaim. "Why?"
"Listen, kids, that is what I was told. Now, you should do as you are told."
"I can't leave 'till I get to see the Undertaker. I just can't!" I whine, something I rarely do (right?? hehe).
"He's already left the building. I'm sorry." the guard reports.
My little realm shatters. The whole trip was based on him. The story, the images, the brief conversation, eye glances, all him. Now, this rather rude guy who dares to call himself a security guard tells me that I won't be able to get just a few mere moments to talk to him and get a quick signature. I am ready to just scream, kick him hard in places where it hurts the most, and run to the back, by myself. Luckily, I don't, and just follow quietly behind my friends to the limo that awaits us.
On the way to the fancy Chicago hotel, my friends try to comfort my crying soul. They tell me that there will be other times, there will be other events. Deep in my heart, I know there would be other chances and events, but I'd never get to go to them. It's happened many times before, where a great chance comes up to go to a RAW show, a taping, or just a house show, but in the end, I never got to go because my father could never get the time off. The work industry is harsh, in my view, but in my view, everything is harsh.
The limo ride is quiet, except for the comfort from my friends. Still, nothing can compare to the pain I feel. It hurts so badly, it makes me want to cry, something I haven't done in a long time. It would be worse if I did, because my friends have never seen me cry, either. I could never be able to face them after that. I'm always the rough, tough one that took the pain and gave more than double back.
Entering the hotel, I say, barely able to keep my composure, "Might as well go right to bed. Gotta get up tomorrow to do some last-day shopping before heading home." They all nod and grumble in agreement.
"Why don't we all sleep in the same room tonight?" Chrissy suggests. "We might as well go crazy before going back home."
"Yeah, great idea, Chrissy," I reply, turning to the group. "We can use my suite." With that, I turn and race to the elevator, the others soon following. The others get all their stuff together while I try to calm myself down. Down in the lobby, I finally realized that this was the last chance I had to actually see the Undertaker in person. I raced to the elevator because I was extremely close to bursting out in tears.
I sit on the large bed, a pillow in my arms, my chin resting on the black satin material. The tears that have been swelled up in my eyes for a while begin to freely fall down my cheeks and land on the pillow.
"You're crying? No way!" I hear Andy exclaim. I look up to see everyone standing just outside the bedroom. I wave them in, not bothering to wipe my eyes.
"I guess this is harder on you than we thought," Morgan says as she takes a bag of Hershey's Chocolate bars from her bag, and passes them around. "You know, there is always next time."
"Not really, you guys. Stuff happens, and I can't go." I reply, close to sobbing about my problems of my past tortures and missed opportunities. I swallow, then continue, "You don't understand how much this whole trip meant to me. A chance to get to see the WWF live is something everyone would jump at, but to meet and talk a little to the one person in the company you admire, it's something special. Something that hardly ever happens to you."
More tears fall down my face. Soon, I can't control the urging sob that penetrates the air. I cry into the silky soft material of the pillow. My friends are stunned; no one says a word, not even my brother, who always takes opportunities like this to make himself look good in front of people. It scares them to see a girl of my attitude break down like this, but it scares me even more. I have never felt such pain, pain that I can't control and boils over into the many tears that soak the pillow and my T-shirt.
A bell rings loud and cheerfully in the room. "Who the hell would be here this time of night?" I reply, eyes swollen from crying.
I rise from the bed, but Courtney stops me. "I'll get it," she says softly. I sit back down, waiting. Waiting for what? I can't decide. Waiting for her to return to the room, waiting for my brother and his friend to snicker and joke about my sensitivity, waiting for daylight to break, waiting for my very existence to expire, just waiting for it all to crumble down on top of me.
Courtney returns, and says in the same downer voice, "Janet, someone's here for you,"
I sniffle, and grumble, "This better be important, or whoever is waiting for me is gonna get it bad!" I don't bother to wipe my face as I rise, and make my way through the group. I can hear the others following me. I turn back to them, and look in their faces. They all know who's there; Courtney told them, I bet. Damn the concept of secrets. I take a deep breath, and enter the adjacent room.
Standing in the doorway, a cold, shivering feeling catches in my spine. Maybe it's just the central air conditioner in the hotel, I think to myself. Entering a room that's been closed for a while does that to you.
Somehow, it is different than that. I quickly glance back to my friends, who give me reassuring looks, and I continue into the room. A quick glance around the room sends me into an emotional spiral. There, standing just across the room from me, is the man I have been seeking, Mark Callaway. Dressed all in black and his many tattoos swirl around his arms, he is an awesome sight to see. His dark hair envelopes his broad shoulders, and his piercing green eyes stare into mine, intense in their quest.
My jaw nearly drops, very close to hitting the floor, like in those cartoons. "What . . . How . . . Why?" is all that can come from my mouth.
A deep laugh emanates from his throat, and a slight smile appears on his lips. "I can see you are at a lose for words," he simply replies. I nod, still unsure of what the hell is going on. Whispers are rising from behind me, coming from my friends' mouths. They, somehow, know what it's all about, but I can't think straight. My mind isn't focused enough. All I can see is that right in front of me, there stands a legend in the wrestling world, the only one that I have yet to get an autograph from.
"As I have seen it, every time we've met in the past three days, I haven't been able to give you what you've asked for. I thought it over, and decided to come here to give it to you without so much stuff rushing me." he explains. "Wasn't sure if you'd want me to intrude on your last vacation night, but I came over anyway."
"No, no, it's alright," I answer him. I point back toward my friends, who are huddled around the entrance to the room. "We weren't doing anything important." I leave him, and return to the bedroom. I get my huge sign that already had many of the WWF superstar signatures on it, and insist that the others grab their autograph articles. When we return to him, we swarm him like bees, though I don't think he notices it that way. Probably just another night being the Undertaker for him. He seems to enjoy our comments and excitement.
I want to be last, so I hang back while the others get their signatures. When it comes time for my turn, he takes my board to the little table, and I follow him. While he leans over the white poster board and signs his infamous signature of the Undertaker's, he says quietly, "Would I be able to speak to you in the hall?"
"Uh . . ," I look back toward my group of friends, who give me more reassuring looks, then I look back toward the man that I proudly call my idol. He is just finishing up his autograph, along with a nice little message. He hands the sign back to me. "Yeah, I can talk." I finally respond.
"Good. Then I'll meet you out in the hall in a minute."
"Sure," I reply, and watch the tall, dark man walk out of the suite. I finally breathe again. I didn't realize I was holding my breath.
"Oh my God! He wants to talk to you . . . ALONE!" Chrissy says, jokingly, after the door is closed.
"What would you boyfriend think if HE knew about this?!" jokes Andy.
"Forget what her boyfriend thinks. What would your parents think?!" Morgan continues the joke. "He's way too old for you, and besides, how could you handle all the attention he gets from other girls?" The others laugh and make their own jokes as well.
I smile toward them. "Ha, ha, very funny, you guys," I reply sarcastically. "Now, seriously, maybe it's just something he wants to say to me in private." I leave the room, myself not too sure about whether what I said is true or not.
He is waiting for me near the elevator. I walk as casually as possible over to him, despite my uneasiness. When he sees me, I can tell he's relieved. "Afraid I'd stand you up?" I ask when I reach him.
That slight smile appears on his face. "Maybe," he replies. The elevator opens, and he steps inside. I follow him.
On the way down, I say, trying to break the mysterious silence, "You know, it was a major risk for you to take to come to see me in a public hotel,"
"Risks are something that's been a part of my life since I can remember," he calmly responds. "This is just a risk that needs to be taken."
I smile to myself, wondering how I could mean so much to someone so famous. People are going to start telling me that it's because a person's fans count the most to them, but truthfully, I'm just one in a large amount that he could have visited. Why did he want to talk to me privately?
The uneasiness comes over my body again. I have to ask that question. "Why did you want to talk to me?"
The elevator doors open, and we step out. I follow him outside the building. When we stop just outside the entrance, he replies, "I know of the website. I know of all that you think about the recent story lines and what you'd like to happen next. The COTN are the base of my character. Without people like you, I would have no idea what the masses would want from me."
I am now thoroughly confused, "I still don't understand. Why would you want to talk to me and not some one who knows what it's like in the 'real world'?"
"Young people know what they want their worlds to be like," He turns to face me. "You and a lot of the others on the site have given me reason enough to continue on with my career. This may not make sense just yet for you, but some day soon, it will."
I suppose he is right. It may be a long time before his words affect me in anyway. "I can tell you one thing: this COTN is proud of her Lord of Darkness tonight,"
"Thanks. That means a lot to me." he replies, then starts walking again. I walk quickly to catch up with him.
"Maybe we can see each other again sometime. Maybe the next time I can get tickets for another Milwaukee or Madison show." I say before quickly realizing that it may never happen, and wish I hadn't have said it. False hope is something I'm trying to cut back on.
"Maybe," is all he says in return. We reach his rental car before he turns to me again. "Things work out in mysterious ways, Janet. Remember that."
"Got it. Anything else?" I ask, half joking.
"All I can think of is thanks for all the support through all the rough and smooth times. That sounds kinda basic from someone like me."
"But at least your fans like to know that," I respond.
"Now you have something to tell everyone at the website," he replies, laughter sifting through the statement.
"Yeah," I reply, chuckling to myself. It is getting too cold to stay outside much longer, so I add, "I guess you should be going now." He nods. "Drive safely. Don't want you to end up hurt before I get to see you next on T.V."
"You got it," he says, and enters the car. I back away, watching him slowly leave the parking stall. I wave before he turns off toward the street. Through the back windshield, I see his hand wave in the same manner. A smile crosses my face. I still can't believe that he came to see me, I think. This is going to be an awesome story to write!
I run into the hotel, the bitter cold getting through my clothing. I race up the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator, and burst into my suite. When I walk into the bedroom, the others are just getting ready for bed. "SHE'S BA-ACK!" Courtney shouts out in a singsong voice.
The others look up, excitement crossing their tired faces. "What did he do? What did he say?" they all ask at the same time. I tell them the entire story. Being serious is not easy for this group of six teens and three preteens.
"Oh yeah, like that's all," Amy R. replies, after I finish.
"Yeah. She probably 'forgot' to mention them hugging and such." Christine says.
"Now, c'mon guys! That's all that happened, seriously!" I defend. "Nothing of that matter happened. Don't you think I know how to control myself?"
They all look at each other, and then to me. "Okay, stupid question, but I was completely mature. Hard to believe, but I was."
"Okay, good enough. I just want to get to sleep." Andy says. Everyone is yawning, and so am I. I get ready for bed, and we all get situated in our blankets and such. I drift off to sleep quickly. The dreams that come are sweet and satisfying.
********
After waking up at the crack of dawn, we go to the nearest mall, and spend most of what we have left. More T-shirts, jewelry, jeans, along with action figures, posters and Beanies manage their way into my shopping bags, most of the merchandise being WWF-related. This spree has to be the most enjoyable one. I am happy(very unusual) and in great spirits. I just can't wait to get home to tell everyone else I know.
After many hours of cruising around the mall, we finally leave for home, a minimum of eight hours driving before we'd reach our little town. On the way, I grow curious as to what Mark had written on my sign. I take it out, unroll it, and search through the many signatures.
"What are you looking for?" Alex asks.
"What he wrote on my sign," I reply, still searching for the message. I turn the poster over. There, it stares me in the face, clear as a summer's day. The amazement surfaces on my face as I read the carefully written words.
"What's it say?" Matt asks.
I take a satisfying sigh, and read aloud, " 'To Janet: Keep your aspirations alive, and remember all that you've learned. It will become important once you find that one career that you know you won't pass up. Mark "The Undertaker" Callaway.' "
The others begin to talk about how inspiring that could be to people. I stare out the limo window, not hearing all that they say. Reviewing the words in my head, I realize that maybe he didn't just write it to be an adult. Maybe it was to believe what he was saying all along. A smile creeps up on my face, and I turn back to my friends, talking up a storm that whirls with excitement surrounding our past four days.
All I can think now is how to tell the other COTN about this occurrence, and maybe try to come up with a way to get a scanner to post my pictures up on their many websites. Man, what a great story this could make! I think again, and continue talking about our trip.
**The End**
{Note: If this sounds real, it is not. Never in a million years would a radio station ever give out tickets to a WWF event and a fully paid-for trip. The last time I can remember the station 95.9 KISS FM talking about wrestling was a year or more ago when someone called up about one of the night D.J.'s talking about the WWF. Anyway, NONE OF THIS WAS REAL!! Except maybe some of the comments from my friends could have been said, had this happened. MY THANX GOES OUT TO YOU, GUYS!}
