I was supposed to write this blog entry about two weeks ago. At that time, I would have been sitting on an Amtrak train with Union Station – Washington DC and Penn Station – New York NY being the two destinations, depending on when I felt like typing it up. I had these great metaphors and shit, too, and was going to bring up the last time I was writing about wrestling on a train, and how different that article was from whatever I was going to shit out. But I didn't, I was exhausted, and sleep is my mana or something, which just gives me an excuse to compare myself to a Maori warrior. Without sleep, I am useless. Without me, sleep is useless. I suppose the Full Metal Jacket parallel doesn't work so well there.
Fuck. I'm on vacation. I'm not supposed to be thinking about... well, anything really. Other than how long I want to lay on the beach before turning over to even out my tan. Or whether I want ice cream from the place down the street or frozen custard from Kohr Bros. on the boardwalk. (The answer to that last one is both, just one on each night.) The most important thing I should be concerned with this weekend is making sure I don't get caught staring at the jailbait that walk the boards.
When I referenced that I'd be “at the beach” this weekend, I didn't just haphazardly throw a dart to a map of the Atlantic coastline. I knew exactly where I wanted to go. Somewhere... more familiar. I went with the Wildwoods, a collective of four small towns that all make up this tiny southern New Jersey island.
Wildwood (as I tend to call it, though that's only one of the four towns) was familiarity. A taste of youth. It was the place my parents would take me every summer when I was little, until I was of the age where I could go with my friends instead. The destination never changed. It was never questioned. It was always Wildwood.
Prior to this weekend (and a weekend in April, which I'm not counting because it was off-season), the last time I had been here was 2001, my senior year of high school. Why did I come back? Familiarity once again. But more importantly, there was something about this place that was calling to me. And as I sit outside my motel room, and... wow, I could have sworn I just heard people in one of the nearby rooms fucking. That definitely sounded like the unmistakable noise of a woman climaxing... anyway, where was I...
I came to this place because I wanted to go back and see something that had brought such immense joy and wonderful memories to me as a child. I often jokingly tell people that I don't mind getting old, as long as it means I don't have to grow up. I knew that the Wildwood I was going to see in 2009 was not the same one from the early 90's, or even 2001, but I needed to see it, and still make that connection to it. And what I've seen has made me happy, just as it had in every other stage of my life.
You know what? There's my wrestling tie-in. Fucking, genius, Bryan. Presumably, we all watch wrestling from a very young age. No matter how shitty or how brilliant it was, there's a distinct connection we have to it, because it's our youth. It was OUR wrestling. Even if it was T.L. Hopper and Mantaur and Big Bully Busick, it was OURS. We look back on it fondly because it reminds us of simpler times, when wrestling was just that... wrestling. It wasn't something to be critiqued, or over-analyzed, or tagged with numbers of asterisks after it.
Everyone who is a long-time wrestling fan has their favorite eras of promotions. Whether it was a year ago, 10 years ago, or long before we were born, it's there. The problem is that if people clamor for times like that again, they're going to be left wanting. ROH will never have Punk/Joe again. WWE will never be able to recreate Austin and Rock in the Attitude Era. There will never be another New World Order. Progressive thinking, looking forward, and the desire for “something new” will always cancel that out.
The Wildwoods have been going through a struggle just like this. I'm not alone in wishing things were like I remember as a kid. However, there's people much older than me that are thinking the same thing, but the eras are much different. Wildwood has a certain nostalgic flare that it brings out in its architecture, style, and just general feel. The problem is you aren't going to bring new people in with only a nostalgia gimmick. You can't conjure up reminders of memories that new customers never had in the first place.
It's a struggle between modernizing, keeping up with the times and technology, all the while remembering your identity, and making sure that isn't lost in the process. It's progress versus tradition, and the fight is still going on. Luxury condos replace the motel I stayed in as a kid, along with many others, and progress takes a round. The motels that survived get registered as historic landmarks, and neon signs from past motels get saved and preserved in a museum, and tradition stays neck-and-neck.
I don't think there really is a “right” balance in all this. It's going to be something Wildwood will have to figure out for themselves. The same goes for the wrestling promotions we follow. Life has a way of being very cyclical. Wrestling promotions are no exception, with their ebbs and flows from high quality to “absolute shit-show”. Like the Wildwoods, promotions are constantly finding ways to bring something to the table that is completely revolutionary and unique, but at the same time, try to catch lightning in a bottle once again. And there's not a clear cut formula to determine how much of each works. It's not a recipe for a cocktail.
I'm still amazed at how at 25, nearly 26, this place still makes me feel giddy like I would counting down the exits on the Garden State Parkway until I hit 4B, and pass by the landmarks that reminded me of how close we were. Some of those landmarks are gone, long gone. The Markay Motel, where I used to stay with my parents, made way for condos back in 2004, I think. I never did get to say goodbye. But the past is the past, and I find myself caving in to the inner child that refuses to grow up.
Today I rode a roller coaster. Three times. I sat on the beach for hours and forgot about my job, bills, everything. I had a soft serve ice cream cone that I quickly ate before it began to drip over my hand. I watched fireworks over the beach. I found myself not needing to be connected to the Internet constantly, which was a feat I never though could be accomplished. And I can't wait to do it all again tomorrow, without a fucking care in the world.
Fuck. Maybe that's the parallel I should be making. If you're reading this, chances are you're not a casual wrestling fan. You're not the kind who watches Raw just to be entertained and nothing more. You're a part of this Internet Wrestling Community (or UGH, for short). You go to shows, post on message boards, and generally, are not happy with... well, most anything.
It's okay, it happens. We've just reached wrestling adulthood. The only thing is... maybe wrestling wasn't meant to be watched with such a keen and “mature” eye. Where's the childlike anticipation for shows? Why can't we just judge a show by a simple question: “Did I have fun?” I think our inner wrestling child is being neglected. Huh... how's that for a new meaning for IWC...
I guess if there's a point to take away from this, good luck finding it in this rambling. Honestly, though, hop on the roller coaster more often. Just... don't write a report on how rickety it was afterwards. Just... raise your hands in the air, sit in the rear of the car (us physics students know why), and make a wacky face for when they take your picture.
I think we all need to be reminded to just enjoy the fucking ride.
To all my fans since I won't be on for the next 2 weeks. A very important person to me, Jillian Elizabeth Phillips, passed away almost 2 years ago and for the 2nd time we're putting on a benefit concert in her name. It is to this cause I am devoting my time for the next few weeks. Rehearsals, rehearsals, rehearsals. I will be performing in said concert with my friends and I am so stoked, I wish everyone could come!! It's for such a great cause. I'll be back soon enough, I promise!!
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