My Dissapointing Raw Adventure

So.. Welcome.. About a month ago...to the day... My friends invited me to WWE Raw. Now, while I don't watch regularly, I continue to follow closely online. Nevertheless, I agreed to go. For one reason and one reason only. I was sure that Chris Jericho was to be returning. We even went so far as to order the Cyber Sunday PPV the night before. Ensuring my initial feelings that Y2J would be making his return there, if he didn't later that night. He had a book signing in Philadelphia that afternoon, mere hours before Raw. I was sure! Beyond a shadow of a doubt. I was going to witness the return of one my top ten favorite wrestlers of all time!!

Monday afternoon rolls around. And I go to do what any normal fan would do before any wrestling event (or baseball event, or football, youth league soccer, etc). We get to the beer distributor..and it is closed!! (Surely, a sign of things to come) Luckily, there is a liquor store right next to it, which is still open. Now, we all can drink the same beer and have a good time. However, the group that went had vastly different tastes in liquor. So rather than compromising, to each went his own. And, in a liquor store, you cant get the little personal bottle...for the money it's just not worth it. I planned on bringing home whatever it was that I didn't drink.

Beautiful FDR park. We meet the rest of our group and proceed to not only park for free but tailgate for the two hours we have left before raw starts. So, before you know it, my bottle of rum is somehow empty. And it is time for us to go. Not before a brief visit to the trunk of a car to partake in more activities in an effort to enhance what was sure to be, Jericho notwithstanding, a lackluster show.

So we get inside and go to our seats, which were actually closer to the ceiling than the rafters of which Owen Hart eventually fell to his death from. We sat through Heat, which featured Hacksaw Jim Duggan, and us repeatedly yelling, "Hoooo." And several other meaningless garbage matches, some of which may or may not have involved Snitsky. After another beer or two, which somehow found its way to me instead of the food I so desperately craved. There it was!! On the Titan Tron. Less than halfway through Raw(I think). The SAVEUS.222 Video!! It was about to happen!! Y2J! Y2J! Y2J! But then..it ended. And some wrestler who wasn't Y2J came out to his regular music and the show went on. Now, at this point, I lost it. This is where the story suffers slightly, as there is no real way to document the exact series of events.

Not having a real grip on reality at the time anway. I decided not to sit through the rest of the, sure to be god awful, show. Rather than sit with my friends and watch another hour plus of WWE Superstars, I simply got up and left. Surely, muttering under and over my breath a mix of incoherent curse words and the letters Y2J. I eventually found myself back at FDR park. It was a chilly fall night. I (read: my body) decided to take a little nap (read: pass out next to my buddy's car).

About an hour or so later. My friends returned. Sure enough, I did not miss a thing. A midget wrestled a real person. Another Diva's costume match (Post Script. The night before, I believe Torrie was wearing a Sean Taylor Jersey at the PPV in DC. Ironic, simply because I would love to shoot her in the crotch...) Mick Foley came out of retirement. DX agreed to reform (Next week), Stone Cold announced he was returning to raw (Next week), and we were basically left with very little in the way of action or storyline.

So, I left, cold, defeated, hungry, with some strange substance resembling vomit on my shoes and jacket. In the ultimate ending to this story, I decided to sleep at a friends house rather than attempt driving home. I left my keys in his car and he left early the next morning for work. I was for all essential purposes stranded. Which wouldnt have been awful, except for the only thing in his fridge was a year old box of saltwater taffys and an empty pepsi box...

This is what happens when you mix me taking wrestling too seriously and being a supermark at times with my raging alcohol abuse. I reccomend neither.

So, the moral of the story, everybody.
Support your local Indy wrestling!!!

-The Merchandise