A Lion's Tale_ Around the World in Spandex - Chris Jericho [42]
Working as a doorman was another great way to meet girls. Everyone wants to be your friend and hang around with you and it’s like shooting fish in a barrel—you can basically take your pick. The only drawback is most barflys are crazy. At least the ones that I met were.
When I gave one such fine lass a ride home one night, we parked outside her house and became fast friends. Suddenly, I heard the sound of breaking glass and the passenger window spiderwebbed. I looked through the splintered glass and saw a guy standing there with a hockey stick. “Shit,” she said. “It’s my fiancé!” Here we were making out, her shirt flung on the dashboard like a used tissue, in front of her own house while her future husband (maybe not after this) was inside. She was either the gutsiest or the stupidest human being on the planet. I kicked her out and sped away, counting my blessings that the guy only had a hockey stick and not a shotgun.
I felt I was better off without a girlfriend anyway because my career mind-set had been influenced by two rules Paul Stanley lived by. His first motto was that the only people who told you that you couldn’t do something were the ones who had failed. Words to live by. He also said if you want to make it and be famous you have to get rid of your women. I got his point and since I wanted to wrestle wherever I could, a girlfriend would only deter my plans to travel around the world in spandex.
CHAPTER 13
MY NAME IS CHRIS TOO
My job was a joke, I was broke, and my love life was DOA, so it was time to hit the road again. My dad had begun dating his future second wife, Bonnie, who lived near San Francisco and while watching a small cable channel at her place he saw a wrestling show called Bay Area Wrestling. I needed the exposure and Bonnie said I could stay with her, so for the second time in my career I went to California.
I walked into the tiny TV studio where BAW was filmed and the first thing I noticed was how low the ceiling was. Were there ANY rings in the free world where you could jump off the top rope and not put your head through the roof? The crew was another ragtag bunch of misfits who hadn’t been trained properly and once again even with my limited experience, I stood out. Unfortunately, the company couldn’t wait to take advantage of that. I worked my first match against promoter Woody Farmer’s son and lost quickly. Then I worked the illustrious Spanish Hitman, who was managed by an ancient lady named Johnny Mae Young (yeah, that Mae Young and she was already older than Methuselah). She was a lunatic and after she caused me to lose the match, she beat the shit out of me and it hurt.
When I was booked to beat a guy called Luscious Larry, Woody asked me if I was excited that I was “getting a big win.” At that point I could’ve cared less, I just wanted to get it on and get it over with. Winning or losing wasn’t as important as having the best match I could in front of the fifty fans in this tiny studio and hopefully be seen on TV by someone who could get me another job. After wrestling three matches for zero money, I got a small victory when I did my first interview with a nationally distributed magazine called Wrestling World. The reporter took a few pictures and wrote a total bullshit story about the young gorgeous newcomer that had taken California by storm and was on the brink of superstardom. It was the second time my name had appeared in a wrestling magazine; the first via a letter that had been written by a fan named Clint Bobsky, who said that Chris Jericho was the best new wrestler