"The critical element that would be different this night was that at home, a pro wrestling event was much like Christmas in that it may very well lead you to question the genetic pool you in which you were swimming. For me at least, existential questions always arose when I looked into the faces of my brethren wrestling fans. However, that element would be missing in Ouagadougou. It was like having Christmas sans Uncle Sedgwick, the birdwatching monopoly mogul. The difference was that the fans that night were not going to be my brethren wrestling fans who knew the clotheslines and the double stomps were coming. The “fans” were going to be Burkinabe. It would be like trading a Christmas day spent with Uncle Sed for one with James Michener. I knew it was going to be fascinating and unlike any other pro wrestling event I had ever attended. I would have passed on a trade to fly in Cindy Crawford to give me a foot massage, and serve me a prime rib dinner from the Chicago steakhouse Boston Bob and I ate at our last night in the States. There was no way in hell was I going to miss this one."