There's so much to be impressed by in this picture... Typically Adam would be filling your head today with his Friday recap, but since the big news in SlackDown land came from Wrestlemania 25, and we've already covered that, I thought it would be nice to share a personal story with you. Seeing as how the big show (and the Big Show, funny enough) was in my homestate of Texas this year, it was easy for me to enjoy Wrestlemania live. So here is a little travel blog of sorts.
I attended Wrestlemania with my friend Mike and his fiancee (pretend there's a fancy accent mark there) Lisa. The trip started out simple, 8:00 AM on Sunday morning, and within an hour, I was getting a ticket from the awesome folks at the Dallas County sheriff's department. It seems Sammy Haggar was right - I can't drive 55...or 60, in this case.
"...for failure to stop looking so sexy!" With that minor speed bump out of the way, we made it to Houston, where we lived life Ric Flair-style in the Hilton Post Oak hotel.
No parking on the sign, please. Check in, while lengthy, was otherwise painless, though they couldn't find us two rooms near each other, much less on the same floor, MUCH less within eight floors. We were assigned rooms 311 and 1204. I mixed up the room keys (as best you can with only two) and allowed Mike to blindly pick one. He drew the third floor for the unlucky couple. Being the nice guy I am (ladies, take note), I traded with them. However, if a little money exchanged hands as well, that was ok too. So I headed to my temporary home for the rest of the weekend, Room 311, otherwise known as "Matt's Party HQ."
Big Matty Style 
Where the magic (doesn't) happen. 
Not ten minutes in the joint and already leaving towels about? Let the cleaning lady worry about it! I took a moment to lounge and peer out my balcony window...
Hilton: the seventh flag over Texas After a little lunch at the California Pizza Kitchen (in Houston, no less!) and a bit more lounging with a good book and some brandy (minus the "brandy" and "good"), I heard a rapping at my door, and not the type that made Mr. John Cena famous. Though, the champ was indeed here.
That is Mike. Yes, he has a championship belt. No, he didn't win it, but yes, you should be jealous. Mike, Lisa and I formed a game plan: exit the hotel and proceed to Wrestlemania. The show was getting started at 5:30 PM local time, and we're leaving two hours early with the stadium just 15 minutes away. Plenty of time to congregate with fellow fans of sports entertainment.
"The Korean Buzzsaw" Mike and his manager Lisa stalk the hallways Oh and by the way, three people wearing wrestling shirts and carrying a heavyweight championship belt should never be asked the question "Going to Wrestlemania?" People asked, though. More than once.
After about 45 minutes spent in traffic, we finally got to park and were at the site of Wrestlemania 25: Reliant Stadium.
This dude showed us to our spot. He was very enthusiastic about his job.
Stoic and graceful We walked the parking lot, passing car after car adorned with messages heralding their ultimate destination or their loyalty to a particular superstar.
Can to! Then it was over a bridge, and we were on the Reliant Stadium grounds, ready to enter that hallowed space where modern-day gladiators would...gladiate.
There it is...the actual Road to Wrestlemania. And a fence. We visited a couple of merch stands. After purchasing all necessary items to prove our attendance, we found our seats with ease. For those in the know, we were on the hard camera side, midway between the post and the top of the ramp.
Here. It was pretty cool because we also had a nice view of some of the production equipment. If they needed a hand, I was ready to jump in and direct some cameras.
Oh, Mr. Sign Holder, how wrong you were proven. Don't you feel foolish now? We surveyed our surroundings. Naturally, there was the typical breakdown of fans: the super marks, people dragged along with super marks, normal folks, and really annoying kids. And one tragic gentleman I'll get to later. Also, a couple of guys that seemed to have eaten something that disagreed with them.
Sitting pensively, planning their next toot. Regardless, we were here. Wrestlemania 25!
Up first was the Money in the Bank ladder match. Fortunately for you, the only person who's intro I happened to capture on film was the winner's, C.M. Punk. We'll just go ahead and say I knew that was going to happen.
He's radioactive! After Punk's big win, it was time to be entertained by Kid Rock, aka the Real McCoy. He played a few songs, people went to the bathroom, and then the divas came out for their big battle royal, which was more just a cluster of hot humanity.
Kelly Kelly is down there somewhere, and she should totally call me. It should be noted that I didn't take pictures of every match. Obviously, they just don't turn out all that great unless you have some sort of fancy camera of the sorts, and since we just write this blog out of love, we're poor. But here's a picture of Chris Jericho that's pretty cool, I guess.
The grandest stage of them all Next batch of photos is from the instant classic match between Shawn Michaels and the Undertaker. Michaels came out first, to the loud applause of the audience.
Thoughtful Hispanic is thoughtful. Next is the Undertaker.
Mike and Lisa are fans of this.
Final match of the night went to Triple H and Randy Orton. I, of course, maintained a solid record of the action.
Here's someone kicking somebody. 
That guy quite clearly has the advantage. 
I think Randy may have lost a contact. Triple H is helping. After the show, there were the obligatory "try to look way cooler than we actually are" pictures.
Ok, that one's pretty cool, but could I possibly look any dumber? 
Yes. Yes I could. Then it was outside for a little fresh air (much needed at this point) and to pose for more pictures.
Eat your heart out, ladies. 
Mike making important phone calls. Lisa is blurry somehow. And out in the street for more posing.
What a great trip. Back to the hotel for some rest, and then on the road the next morning back to Dallas. And no tickets this time! Thanks to the WWE for putting on the great show, and to the city of Houston for not being completely terrible to visit this time around.
Oh, remember that guy I told you about earlier? The one I said I'd get to later? Well, now is later, and here he is.
If it's not obvious, this man is a fan of one Mr. John Bradshaw Layfield. He had the whole get-up: the suit, the tie, the hat, and the smug look. And he played the part all evening. He was gracious enough for most of the night, but when it was time to stand up and put those signs in the air, he was a total cock about it, holding his up while everyone else had to strain to see around it. And when asked to put it down, he would simply reply with a defiant "No."
This was made all the more ridiculous by the fact that he didn't know how to make a sign. You see, on the front was a standard JBL picture, but on the back was supposed to be a message to those of us sitting behind him. Well, he outflanked himself, and put a little too much thought into how things should be oriented.
But all that ceased to matter when the big match of the night came for him. JBL would be facing Rey Mysterio and defending his Intercontinental Title...which he lost in 20 seconds.
