The Inside Scoop On An INSANE WrestleMania 35 Weekend
WWE serviced its fandom brilliantly on the night. After the night drew to a close, that service almost literally ended.
Andy and myself booked a return ticket to guarantee an escape back to New York, but too many people planned the same route, leading to a nightmarish, rain-soaked two and half hour journey home. WWE and the state should have coordinated this far better. They had six years to do so.
Still, on the train—when I eventually caught one—I was reminded yet again that this thing of ours is really quite nice. That comments section, those toxic Twitter battles—they really are the vocal minority. I met fans (shout-outs to the lovely Brian and Jennifer), and we exchanged thoughts on the show and the wonderful state of wrestling in general. In fact, if you wore a wrestling shirt at any point over ‘Mania weekend, a fellow fan was guaranteed to strike up a conversation. In an alien and often intimidating city, the wrestling community welcomed and were excellent to each other. It was life-affirming, not to be too histrionic about things, and a much-needed reminder that the world, the real world, isn’t quite the hellscape its digital doppelgänger codes.
In the Barclays Center, I lost my sh*t; In Madison Square Garden, I lost my actual mind; in the MetLife Stadium, I recovered my faith in WWE’s ability to pay off euphoric, incredibly emotional fan service.
God bless professional wrestling, the wrestling community, and the Great Men of WhatCulture dot com for the memories.