I don’t usually follow boxing, but like most, I was swept into the vortex of media hype, for the Fight of the Century. And although I was compelled to watch The Fight, I made no real plans to do so.
But life can be so anecdotal and so very accommodating.
Yesterday morning a determined me, struggled to carry an overweight coffee table down the steps of my apartment – with the goal of loading it into my car. With lots of loud thumps along the way, I managed to get it all the way down the stairs, where my exhale was my admission of defeat. There was no way that I would be able to get this into my car all by myself. I opened my front door and hopefully looked around. But it was 6:45 in the morning, so who was I really expecting to see?
Well, seek and you shall find – two doors down, there was a black man on a ladder washing windows. “Oh, thank God” I thought to myself. I walked over and in my sweetest, girliest voice, I asked the man for help. He kindly obliged. He introduced himself as Gus and said that he did a lot of the handy work around the neighborhood.
And when he walked me to the front door of my apartment in a voice loud with excitement he shrieked “You live here?!” “Yes, I do” I replied. He then explained that he had been the handy man of my building for many years. He said that he even became good friends with the previous tenant – a guy named Joey, better known as the Soho Kid. Joey was a Golden Gloves boxer but his claim to fame back then was throwing amazing parties. He even had a hot tube installed in the back yard -the very same hot tub that got him evicted and made him a legend on Spring Street.
I asked what became of young Joey and Gus told me that he owns a Boxing club over on Bleecker. He said he was even going to watch the fight there tonight. How cool would it be to watch the Mayweather-Pacquiao Fight at a boxing gym? That just sounded like the perfect milieu. So I asked if anyone can go. Of course not; like everything in New York, there was a list. So, Gus had my name put on the list and told me to wear something fashionable, because there would be a lot of press there.
That night, I dug through my closest to try and put together an outfit appropriate for a fight. In Jersey that would have been sweats from Target, but I’m in Manhattan now and that will no longer do. So my look consisted of black leather pants, a black satin a-symmetrical blouse with one long sleeve and one sleeveless arm and a pair of Gucci stilettos or as my aunt calls shoes of that height, limo shoes. And to top it all off, cherry red lip stick. I now had the outfit of what a woman would was going wear if she was going to a fight….in Las Vegas.
So after a disco nap, two cups of coffee and a red bull, I was ready to go.
Where did you watch the fight?