One Pack. No Turning Back.
Number of miles driven today: 49
Total miles driven on road trip: 813
Starbucks or Dunkin' Donuts? Starbucks' reign of terror continues
Cheapest gas I saw today: $3.29
Number of red states visited overall: 0
Number of blue states visited overall: 1
Number of shits I give about the NBA draft: 0.5
Cost of one ticket for the Ramos Bros. circus in San Marcos: $25
Garry Templeton loves watching kung fu movies.
Reclining in his plush brown leather chair in his San Marcos, CA living room, he nurses a raspberry iced tea and flips from golf to the Padres game to a kung fu movie on the El Rey Channel. He likes to watch the fight sequences, fascinated by the degree of coordination and choregraphy necessary to put the scenes together.
"I want to know how long it takes to film one of these scenes," he tells me as a poorly dubbed action sequence plays out.
"So you must like action movies?" I say.
"Yeah, I do."
"How about pro wrestling?"
"Nah man, that shit is fake. But my mom, she liked watching pro rassling. She would take us kids to the matches in Orange County."
I explain to him how wrestlers put matches together on the fly, how they improvise in the ring, with the "heel" (bad guy) whispering instructions for the next move to the "babyface" (good guy). For the first time in our two days together, Tempy seems intently interested in hearing more about something I am saying. Not that he doesn't care what I think (actually he might not), but we are here to talk about him, after all.
My knowledge of pro wrestling ritual is based on my years of fandom and my ill-fated three months spent trying to write the Iron Sheik's biography 10 years ago. But more on that later in the trip.
When I describe how the blood in wrestling is real, how they slice their own foreheads to draw fans out of their seats, Tempy's eyes get wide.
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Kung Fu Tempy
Day 7: San Marcos, CA, 6.25.15