Jerry's
two weeks were almost over and we were driving to San Diego. My car
broke down right at the San Clemente exit; I made the exit and we
rolled into a gas station. San Clemente's most famous resident at the time
was former President Richard Nixon. My car couldn't be repaired until
the next morning. Leaving it at the station, we caught a bus to San Diego,
jumped into a cab and made it to the arena. After the matches, one of the
boys gave us a ride back to San Clemente and dropped us off at a hotel.
After checking in, I walked to the restaurant and had dinner.
Jerry headed for
the bar.
After
eating, I went back to our room, watched some t.v. and fell asleep.
Rudely awaken by Jerry beating on the door, I got up and let him in.
He was out of his mind and hallucinating. Rushing into the room,
he stood up against the wall with his arms and legs spread apart;
his fingers were clawing at the wall as if he was trying to grip it.
There was a frozen, paralyzing look of fear on his face. His eyes
were bulging out of their sockets. He was yelling, "They're everywhere,
they're trying to kill me! Machine guns! Hand grenades!"
This was truly a scary sight, something I will never forget. I knew that
he had served in W.W.II and thought he must be having a flashback.
It was dark in
our room but it was being lit up by the flashing red lights of police cars
that had surrounded the hotel. The red lights reflecting off of the walls
in the room added to this most surrealistic scene. Writing about this bizarre
event, lyrics from the song, "Hotel California" by The Eagles come to mind.
"You can check
out any time you like, but you can never leave." That's exactly how
I felt when the police and FBI started pounding on the door!
Whatever it was
that Jerry did, he did it well. Storming the room, Jerry was put
into handcuffs. I knew he was once again on his way to jail.
The
cops wanted to know who we were. I told them pro wrestlers, and that
I would have him out of town just as soon as my car was fixed the next
morning. I informed them that Jerry would be leaving the state in a few
days. They relented and told me that I would be "responsible" for him (I
couldn't believe what I was hearing) and for us to get out of San
Clemente the minute my car was fixed and never come back.
I couldn't have
agreed more!
After they left,
I got back into bed and tried to get some sleep. Jerry was sitting
on the edge of his bed. I had to endure one more insult...
As I laid there,
I heard the sound of Dr. Jerry Graham urinating on the carpet.