Vegas Chronicles 2011 (Part 1)

So I was in Las Vegas earlier this year. Sounds like a long time ago but it was actually a month ago. I was at CatHouse, an ultra lounge at Luxor hotel with luxe design inspired by the look and feel of a 19th century European bordello. It’s quite the glamorous nightlife destination along the strip, featuring large platforms for dancing and intimate décor surrounded by beautiful people. I was just relaxing and chilling with some on my Las Vegas buddies and my manager. As the night progressed, my buddies floated around the bar talking to the ladies…after all it is Vegas and what happens here stays here. It left me with only my manager at the table with me. It was time to talk business with upcoming fights and promotional offers to consider. Our conversation was interrupted when a middle aged man approached us curly brown hair, laughing eyes. He was wearing eye liner to extenuate his eyes. He had the Jack Sparrow from the Pirates of the Caribbean, kind of walk. Either that or he was kind of drunk. He introduced himself as Andy. He worked as a writer for the Rolling Stones Magazine.

“My buddy over there,” he pointed to a man in the pin stripe dress shirt and pants sitting in the sofa relaxing with his legs open. “He’s heartbroken. He lost his perfect love.”

I watched him for a few seconds. I noticed he had two pretty good looking classy brauds on each side leaning on him. He had a big grin on his face that stretched from ear to ear.

“I wish my heartbreaks were like that.” I laughed.

“Poor guy. Having all those hot women throw themselves at him. I do feel really bad for him,” my manager said with sarcasm.

I was waiting for Andy to stop talking and leave us alone. But when he started telling stories about his experiences he had with VIP concert backstage passes, traveling and interviewing the biggest rock stars and celebrities in the country let alone the world, he became quite an interesting character. Since he was 18, he had been under orders from magazines and newspapers to step in the lives of musicians, actors and artists, and somehow find out who they really are underneath the mask they presented in public. He spoke of playing FIFA World Cup soccer video game on a moving bus with rock bands; Metallica, U2, Kings of Leon and Aerosmith just to name a few. He learned how to survive like the rock stars did without showering for 7 days straight and sleeping inches away from 5 or 6 other people who also haven’t showered for 7 consecutive days. He spoke with their drug habits and groupie orgies…interesting stuff. When story time was over, he invited me to do some jiu-jitsu and submission fighting with him and his boys. He claims that Mixed Martial Arts are superior to boxing. But little did he know I have 5 MMA bouts under my belt. He talked just enough smack to get me motivated.

“I’m actually gonna take you up on that offer,” I told him.

“Tomorrow at 4 it is. See ya there,” he shook my hand and darted out the door. It felt like he scammed me and now he’s running out before I have come to realization that I’ve been hustled.

I decided not to drink because it would ruin my cardio for the challenge from Andy that laid in front of me tomorrow. I took Andy’s challenge pretty seriously and pretty competitively and competition is ultimately where I’m at my best. So I called it a night early even though there were a few cute girls I wanted to talk to at the bar. As I made my way back to my hotel room, people were just heading out of the night and even though the night seemed pretty promising, something inside told me hitting heading to bed was a better option.

So it’s bright and sunny the next morning.

“Sixty-nan degrees which is around ate-teen degrees Celsius for you Canadians,” said the taxi driver in heavy Southern accent, when I asked him how hot it is today. “Yo igloo won’t hold up in dis’ kinda weather.”

“Ya I miss polar bear hunting,” I played along.

“I’m fuckin’ wit ya kid. I know you guys don’t live in igloos.”

I laughed as I paid for the cab fare and gave him a 20% tip...ya I was feeling generous that day. He spread the cash in his hand like a deck of cards. A pretty hot blonde dressed in a hot pink tube top with matching heels, lipstick and nails walks past his cab. He whistles. She turns to see who it was and I can tell she was rolling her eyes under her Ray Bans aviators, covering virtually half of her face. The cab driver stuck his head out of the sun roof. “I’m whistling at the cash…not at chu,” he said as he held up the cash that I paid him with. “So, don’t feel too lucky gal,” he said with a smile. The girl in hot pink gave a cheeky grin, spun around and rolled her eyes. “Vegas girls are like that,” he shouted to me as I was making my way to the entrance of Xtreme Couture, making sure the girl heard ever word of it, “So get used to it.” Even as a cab driver, he never seems to live life unnoticed.

Xtreme Couture was huge for a MMA gym. It had an authenticity that the polished high end health clubs couldn’t imitate. Furthermore, there was an indescribable energy in there that was contagious. Andy was inside already, clustered around a group of men telling jokes to one another. You could tell they were fighters with their cauliflower ears and scar tissue around their eyes. Above all they were all fit. Andy gestured for me to come over and everyone around him turned to see who he was gesturing to. Andy introduced me to the people he was talking to. The gentleman on his right was a guy in his late 30’s early 40’s. He introduced himself as Randy and he was the owner of the gym. The man to Andy’s left was a bald by the name of Frank. The other 2 guys were Erik and Brad. All of them exerted extreme confidence and Frank came off a little bit brash and cocky but still respectful. Randy asked me if I’ve ever fought or ever done this before. He even asked me to sign a disclaimer before warming up. Randy and Frank looked awfully familiar though. I thought to myself where have I seen them. Just then reality hit me. I was in Xtreme Couture Las Vegas, this is Randy Couture’s gym. The myth, the MMA legend, 48 year old UFC light heavy weight fighter was standing right in front of me. And the other was Frank Trigg, the welterweight fighter who fought Matt Hughes and George St. Pierre. I apologized to Randy and Frank for not realizing, I told them it was Vegas and I had too many beers last night but in reality I had zero. I told them I was a huge MMA fan in which I actually was. Randy seems to have less wrinkles, when he’s on TV. I guess he gets airbrushed every time he’s on set on television. As I was training with Randy and Frank, they showed me techniques and tactics used on their previous opponents. They analyzed and broke down their game plan against various opponents revealing its depth and complexity which really demonstrated that combat sports was very much a thinking man's game, the tough guy is going to get hurt in this sport. Frank looked bigger than he did on TV and Randy was just a monster that employed brilliant techniques with in wrestling and jiu jitsu even at the age of 48. Even though Randy outweighed me by 50 lbs but whenever he had the top position it felt like a bear was on top of me. He was freakishly strong, his take downs were comparable to getting hit by a truck. It knocks the wind out of me. They had the wrestlers' trademark strength, power and a strong work ethic. It was a human chess match and every time I made a move or attack, I was susceptible to a counter attack and as professional fighters, Randy and Frank took full advantage of that. I asked Randy Couture regarding his up coming fight with Lyoto Machida. He told me he's ramped up about even though he hasn't started training camp due to his acting commitments for his upcoming movie "Setup" starring Bruce Willis and 50 Cent, release date is sometime later this year, followed by The Expendables II coming out next year in 2012. And of course he's working closely with Affliction on his Xtreme Couture clothing line. I was hesitant to ask him questions regarding retirement. Randy’s words of wisdom were, “When the voice and the vision on the inside become more profound and clear than the opinions on the outside, then you have mastered your life.” At the time he told me that, I was too caught up in the moment. I was working through techniques with him and trying to find ways to establish a dominant position. So it didn’t sink in at the moment he said it.

Later on in the training session, I trained mostly with Andy, Brad and Erik. Grappling with Brad and Erik was a little awkward simply because they smelled like girl perfume the whole time. It was so distracting. I’m on the bottom position and all I smell is the sweet scent of fragrance which brings me to the thought of hot chicks and then I look up, its only Erik and Brad on top of me trying to rip one of my limbs off. It's not wrong to have a sweaty guy on top of you if you're straight...it's what you do with the sweaty guy on top of you that determines it. It was only later that I found out that both of them were adult film stars, aka male porn stars. They had just finished shooting a porno scene and here I am grappling with them.

“Don’t you boys take showers after you do porn,” I said as I cranked on an arm bar hoping he would tap but he rolled out of it.

“Nope, we were doing a scene outside in the desert today,” Erik replied as he passed my guard. “No showers in the desert. Sorry.”

“I noticed you said ‘we’, you should’ve told me earlier that you guys enjoyed were pummeling each other from behind on camera. I woulda been a bit more prepared.” I said as I locked in half guard.

“ ’We’ as in me n’ Brad were both in the scene together in a group sex scene…having sex with females within the industry...not with each other.”

“So boys n girls were sweating and dripping all over each other and you buys didn’t bother to take a shower?” I said

“Nope.” He secured my leg and went for a leg lock.

“Well, thanks for sharing her ‘essence’ with me…I totally appreciate that,” I said sarcastically as I tapped.

He laughed. “Your welcome. She’s a hot! My fav girl in the biz. Kayden’s her name, check her out,” he said with an evil grin. “The industry is full of hot chicks, why the fuck do you think I love my job so much! It’s not for the money. It’s for the amazing sex life.” He was so proud of himself, like a child who’s taken his first shit on a grown-up toilet. If I were him, I’d keep my occupation on the down low. I wonder what he writes for as his occupation when it came time to file his taxes. “One more question,” I asked. “You don’t happen to have STD’s do you.” Erik grab a bottle of Mr. Clean detergent and held it up to me. I got the point.

We roll for 3 hours straight, only stopping for water breaks. We pushed each other to our physical limits until every muscle in our body was sore with the burning pain sensation of lactic acid. Andy told me he loved this feeling, “The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.” He lifted his arms, embracing the moment. “There are 3 things that make me feel alive; training, sex and working out.” It was the first thing I actually agreed with him on since we met last night. Throughout the 3 hours of training, I managed to only submit Andy out 4 times while he and the rest of the crew got the better of me.

When we were all done training, I looked around the gym for Randy and Frank Trigg. They both seemed to have been gone for the day. Everyone who knows me know that I’m not big on taking pictures, but it was the first time in a long while that I wanted to have a picture taken with Randy Couture and Frank Trigg, and thanking them for their warm hospitality and training. It didn’t hit me until later that night that I rolled with one of the greatest fighters of our time, our era, Randy “The Natural” Couture.

What I realized is that most of the time while training with these UFC fighters was that I was waiting for just one moment of truth or authenticity with Randy Couture and Frank Trigg; underneath the flashing cameras, the limelight, the screaming of adoring fans, the professional athlete status and the celebrity persona that masks them from their true self. But once they stepped onto the canvas of the octagon cage, they shook off all the star dust, leaving only their competitive drive and spirited motivation. The training we did with and against one another was a display of their true self and more authentic than any words can describe. After all, you can tell a lot about somebody or a situation in a minute. But only if you choose the right minute. This was 180 of them.

[Continued...]