My brothers and I boarded the 10:20 flight out of Sacramento.
When we get on a flight, Uber or any other small enclosed space (sauna, steamroom, hotel room etc), our collective maturity spirals.
One brother, who shall remain nameless, convinced me to join him in AirDropping meme’s to unsuspecting passengers. As my 5th or 6th Jeffery Epstein meme parachuted its way into all Bluetooth compatible devices in the immediate vecinity, I was sure of one thing:
I was doing The Lord’s Work.
I felt like my little nuggets of insight and wisdom were MRE’s of Enlightenment being dropped into a wartorn, starving nation.
But I knew, in my heart of hearts, at least one passenger would tire of our antics.
And his name was Manjit.
When Manjit fired back with messages of his own, we told him that we were in seat D19 (not our seat) and challenged him to fisticuffs.
Now, most people would question the idea of AirDropping meme’s to an entire flight manifest, then deliberately attempting to provoke an altercation between two of them.
But we aren’t most people.
We giggled like crazed Hyenas until we heard a voice booming on the loud speaker.
One of the downsides of indiscriminately AirDropping wide swaths of people is that sometimes you AirDrop an authority figure.
And this Flight Attendant wasn’t happy about it.
In a tone so stern and reverential I thought I was back in Catechism, the stewardess addressed the cabin:
“BLUETOOTH IS FOR PERSONAL USE ONLY!”
Fearing arrest or detainment, we halted the AirDropping.
My brothers and I were traveling to Vegas to support our pal, Nate Diaz in his upcoming bout against Chechnyan, Khamzat Chimeav. A fight that promised to be a barn burner.
After arrival we bounced around Vegas. Gambling, eating and aimlessly wandering around the Strip.
We went to the Press Conference that never was. And the weigh-ins. Khazmat couldn’t make the weight and was replaced with seasoned veteran Tony Ferguson.
On Friday, my brothers and I took a trip to Old Las Vegas(Downtown) on the premise that there is cheaper gambling. This proved to be a false dichotomy because I got taken for a considerable sum at the Golden Nugget by a petit, Laotian Croupier named Mimi.
Never bet black when your heart says red.
Fast forward to the night of the fight. As we milled around the team headquarters, I introduced myself to the cousin of one of our black belts.
I ask his name.
It’s Manjit.
“By chance were you on the 10:20 flight out of Sacramento on Wednesday?” I ask
My brothers chastise me, “Stop it. You’re being ridiculous!”
Manjit looks at me, confused, then asks, “Wait….Are you Paul?”
The room erupts in laughter.
The wild coincidence proved to be a good omen because five hours later Nate put on a virtuoso performance of boxing and jiu-jitsu and submitted Tony Ferguson via guillotine.
Reminding those in attendance and around the world, the ultimate lesson of the Nick Diaz Academy:
Bet on yourself, no matter what the odds