AWR European Tour - First stop, France

It's no coincidence that in no known language does the phrase "As pretty as an airport" appear.

AWR European Tour - First stop, France Day 1 - Louisville KY: Here I am, in Canada on Christmas, so tired I keep falling asleep in front of the fireplace despite plying myself with many cups of coffee AND a rather raucous family talking loudly around me. This was my seventh country this month and that I am never, EVER again doing a fitness competition and a world tour back to back. Never. So I guess this behind-the-scenes diary would technically start with my Figure contest. You plan and plan and plan for competition day...counting down the months, weeks, days, hours of nothing but plain, clean food, no socializing, cardio several times a day…watching your body change each week...and suddenly, I couldn't wait for this day to be over. I'd gotten up at 7 am after not much sleep due to being woken up five or six times the night before by crippling leg, calf and groin cramps. I mean, doubled over in agonizing pain from lack of water and potassium. I hadn't showered in two damn days because I had five layers of dark spray tan on me, was so thirsty from dehydration that I'd happily stab someone for a cold, crisp apple…and I was so very tired. The kind of tired that is bone tired. All I wanted to do was sleep and be left alone. Yet, I had to get on stage, pumped up, smile and radiate endless energy. And then finish packing to catch a flight in a few hours. Oh, I was also definitely beginning to smell myself. Traveling is not advised pre contest because it screws up your diet and workout patterns, yet I'd done it nearly every week. So, after 3 months of grueling diet and contest prep leaving no time for anything thanks to double and triple gym training sessions I took the stage on Nov 14th at 9:30 a.m. and returned home at 11:30 p.m. But I placed third in the Figure tall category which qualifies me for the NPC Junior Nationals if I’d like to go through this again, so we shall see. (Pretty cool for my first time out.) I stuck my sword trophy in the corner of the living room, dumped my laundry in the washer and started rolling up last minute items for my suitcase. It was 3 am before I'd finished packing and laundry and dug out my flight information. Months ago, I didn't think I'd step on stage for this contest. I'd almost quit several times. Shortly after starting the diet and training, my mom was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer and my longtime relationship decided he needed 'space'. I was completely gutted. It took all I had just to do the bare minimum each day. I felt like a failure, like I was losing everyone I cared about. My entire life was pretty much turned upside down between traveling to Philly and back pretty often to see my mom and making all my booking commitments back home. All I could count on was the gym twice a day. It kept me sane at one of the most unstable times of my life. I learned to live for the little things. --------------------- TRAVEL HELL:The morning of Nov 15th: overtired, still dehydrated, and having had to pack and repack my oversized bags to make weight at the Delta counter, I just barely made my flight to Paris. (Louisville TSA told me one of the girls had had to leave her sword trophy behind--suckage!) Or rather, my flight to Atlanta, where my Paris portion would be unceremoniously cancelled after sitting four hours on the runway. Dammit. I knew it was too good to be true. I had a window seat with no one next to me. Best of all: no screaming babies. I'd just gotten about halfway through "Julie and Julia" - a movie I highly doubted anyone would watch with me – when Air France ended up “de-planing” (when exactly did this become an English word?) everyone sending all of us to a hotel with a scheduled flight for 26 hours later. I was almost happy, since it meant I could sleep for 23 of those 26 hours. And that was the last time I did. Sleep, that is. I emailed Anne from American Wrestling Rampage and she purchased me a flight to the town they’d be in by the time I got to France. Odd fact: I’d had my contest bikini bottoms glued to my butt with Bikini Bite. When I ripped my suit off that night, my tan came with it, in the form of two ultra white striped on my cheeks. It looked ridiculous. Day 2 – Atlanta Airport: I had to completely checked in all over again, but this time I got hit with a bullshit bag fee, thanks to getting rerouted through Delta instead of Air France...and no TV screens on this flight, either. From over-exhaustion, I realized 4 subway stops later that TSA hadn’t given me back my DVD player…F*CK. I felt so stupid. Finding something that played region 1 movies wouldn’t be easy. I had to catch yet a third last minute flight in Paris to Strasbourg (which was on the German/France border) once I'd landed since I’d missed the AWR tour bus from Paris. This would prove to be very, very stressful, since I had to find the 'domestic' area of the insanely big French airport without the benefit of anyone who seemed to work there or speak English and too many heavy bags to once again collect and recheck in. At one point, I started to cry from frustration and the realization that I was going to miss this flight, no one was helping me, I'd packed too much and was tipping the cart over going around corners and my phone didn't work, so I couldn't call Anne to let her know anything. I was stranded. OK...so let me explain my luggage situation to you. I'd seriously tried to bring just one huge bag. It simply wasn't happening. Clothing for a month in four countries with vario! us temperatures and no home base, shoes, workout stuff, protein powders and food, books in English, full sized toiletries, and then wrestling gear...I ended up with two fifty-pound bags, a fifty pound carryon, a twenty pound purse and another small wheelie duffle bag with supplements and my coat stuffed in which I bought for the run over at the ATL airport. Honestly, I DID try to keep it down. And clearly failed. Miserably. What was really pushing the weight over the limit were protein supplements (protein is an afterthought in Europe) and full sized bottles of toiletries. My penance would be to a.) drag 180 plus lbs of luggage with me everywhere…and b.) some places didn’t have carts. This is where I really paid for it. Or relied on chivalrous men who liked my rack. But I had all I needed with me. Small comfort when you’re tearing your shoulder out, and tipping wonky carts whilst trying to keep up. Which is exactly what happened in Paris. Day 3 – Paris: There I was, trying to negotiate the bazillion floors of Charles De Gaulle. I had to collect all my stuff in International, take it to Domestic, recheck in and fly to Strasbourg. Easy, right? Nope. I barely made the flight, got lost, couldn’t find anyone who spoke English, got bad directions (and a multitude of shrugs), had a 3 wheeled cart that kept tipping over, was sweating profusely and was fairly convinced I was going to miss yet another flight. So far, this trip had taken me three days to get to France…and I still wasn’t caught up with the tour. A flight attendant got me checked in at Domestic (thankfully) and pointed me down the hall to International. As I redoubled back towards the elevator in the bottom floor of CDL after hitting another dead end, I started to cry from frustration. I’m sure I looked disturbing and unusual…this insanely dark pro-tanne! d, ripped & veiny amazon woman pushing a tipping pile of luggage with tears running down her face in the basement of the airport, but that’s how it was. This trip was now the current winner for Single Worst Travel Experience in my book. A kind French woman took pity on me and pointed to the right shuttle. The shuttle driver came down and helped me with my 8764 bags. I just barely made my flight. I threw myself into my seat and was instantly asleep. One nice thing about Europe is that if you’re already checked in, they will usually hold the flight for you figuring you’re either lost or held up in the airport somewhere. They don’t do that in at home…but then again, a bottle of water isn’t $5.50 at home either. Another thing I do like about the French…they aren’t afraid on emotion or to show it. I saw a fed up flight attendant go off on an idiot customer…it was refreshing! It’s not uncommon to see exasperation or emotional outbursts from professionals in this country, which is socially acceptable. I like that. I’d rather people didn’t hide their true feelings. They didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t hide mine, either. Day 3.5 – Strasbourg: Made it. Barely. Got straight off the plane from the all night/all day flight and went right to the venue where I faced Portia Perez…and got pyro. All is happy. Portia was short and stocky, like a Japanese wrestler, I found out very quickly that she was as safe as one, too. I started feeling much better about putting my back in her hands and we began to have some pretty decent matches on the tour along with the help of her charming manager & trainer, Justin Shaype. She would also be my roommate for much of the tour. She’d just gotten over a wicked case of swine flu. “When someone tells you it’s the sickest they’ve ever been, it’s no joke. I was getting blown up just eating. A meal. Had to stop EATING because I was out of breath.” We were quite opposite on our schedules which made us compatible to live together. She needed a lot more sleep than my normal 6-9 hours, (LOL) so I’d get up early and sneak out to find a gym with the Irish wrestlers or hike the streets. At night, I’d crash as early as I could and she’d stay out late drinking with the Irish. As the tour bus left a city one day, Paddy said, “Well, will ya look at dat. There’s an entire city there beyond dat Irish pub!” I was beginning to wonder if the Irish ever slept… --Con't... View UNCENSORED vers. w/ photos: http://www.AprilHunter.com