Word: wwf
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Before Christina Rosenberger, my fellow WWF reporter, and I leave for the Fleet Center, my editor pulls me aside. "I swear she's gonna get jumped," he warns. Yeah--I think--she doesn't know what she's getting herself in to. Suddenly, I feel a little cockier about this venture. Satisfied with my newly appointed role as The Protector, I sense some of my Harvardfeebleness melting away. I'm ready for some SmackDown...
Tickets in hand, Christina and I battle through the hordes of WWF fans who are waiting in the lobby of the Fleet Center. I stop for a minute to examine my ticket. We're seated in the FIRST ROW?! Ring side seats! This is getting better every minute. My excitement's cut short by an impatient gray-haired woman in a WWFshirt, who tells me to get my ass moving. I obediently pick up the pace. _Ok, now I know Harvard's sissified me--some little old lady is pushing me around...
After navigating through a riotous crowd wearing an obscene amount of WWF paraphernalia, we enter the arena and take our seats. We are about five feet from the edge of the ring. I smile at Christina. She smiles back nervously. The lights go out. Let the ass-kickin' begin...
...raises the metal chair above his head. This can't be happening--Al Snow can't win. I look to my left for Christina, thinking she'll empathize with my distress. She isn't even standing. Her face is blank, passionless. This can't be; Mankind, the heart of WWF, is a motionless lump on the mat, and Christina doesn't even care! I can't believe it. SMACK! Oh no...it's over. But wait...the official declares Al Snow disqualified for using the chair. Mankind did win! Ha! He didn't disappoint me! I realize that his victory...
...sneaking suspicion that I would be the only girl in the Fleet Center who blow-dried her hair before she went to see steroid-filled men pretend to mortally wound one another wearing uni-suits at WWF's Smackdown!. I even contemplated leaving it wet, but my vanity, and the idea that one of these wrestlers might be cute, got the better of me. So I blow-dried my hair, put on the most non-descript outfit I could think of, and headed to the Fleet Center armed with my mace and two days of beginner Tae Bo videos...