Brasil Post #1: Layover in Chicago
Written while on a layover in Chicago (LAX --> ORD --> GRU --> RIO):
I’ve been training Brazilian Jiu Jitsu for around six years. I never would have gotten involved in this sport if it weren’t for a friend opening up an academy and encouraging me to try it out. Although I outweighed him by fifty pounds, he beat me handily, and then showed me how he did it. I love this sport. I love that it is both a physical and mental challenge, that the old and the weak can beat the young and strong with superior technique. I love the clash of different styles, setting traps that people fall into, switching gears fast, the weightless feeling the other guy has when a sweep is executed perfectly, the feeling of wrist-burn when I am attempting to strangle choke someone until they tap or pass out. I love cheap moves - wrist-locking white belts, hand on the throat, knee to the groin, choking someone’s chin. I love the Brazilian refs who cheat for other Brazilians. I love that when Brazilian Jiu Jitsu was being tested in its infancy 80 years ago, the Jiu Jitsu guys took all comers, and broke the arms of the karate guys who challenged them. I love the unspoken pecking order, having functional, rather than vanity muscles. I love the aggressive tattoos and the don’t fcuk with me attitudes. I love watching people at the very top taking the game in directions that are simply beyond my intellectual grasp. I want kids so I can teach them. I want to do this for the rest of my life. I hope I’m training into my 90’s like Helio Gracie, the founder of the sport, yelling at people 70 years younger that their technique is poor, going to my grave with my gi drying in the closet.
My expectations are that we will train, surf, drink caipirinhas, visit the tourists sights, and have fun in what the natives call, the “marvelous city.” I feel extremely lucky to have this opportunity, to be able to take off two weeks of work in a terrible economy, and to have an amazing spouse who encouraged me to go.
Written today:
My plane arrived in Sao Paulo without a problem. Unfortunately, after three gate changes, our flight was cancelled. Everyone scheduled to fly to Rio was routed around like lemmings all over the airport. We were told to go through customs, but when we arrived, we were told to return to the gate. Halfway to the gate, we were told to return through customs. We all cleared customs, collected our luggage, and boarded a bus to another airport. Upon arriving, we all waited around because nobody knew what to do with us. Finally, we went through ticketing, and checked our baggage once again. We boarded the plane, on a different airline, and arrived at a different airport in Rio than we were originally scheduled to arrive in. Luckily, I was able to make a call at the second Sao Paulo airport and let my instructor and teammates know when and where I would be arriving. After a short flight, I made it - five hours late after being in transit for 30 hours.
Written while on a layover in Chicago (LAX --> ORD --> GRU --> RIO):
I’ve been training Brazilian Jiu Jitsu for around six years. I never would have gotten involved in this sport if it weren’t for a friend opening up an academy and encouraging me to try it out. Although I outweighed him by fifty pounds, he beat me handily, and then showed me how he did it. I love this sport. I love that it is both a physical and mental challenge, that the old and the weak can beat the young and strong with superior technique. I love the clash of different styles, setting traps that people fall into, switching gears fast, the weightless feeling the other guy has when a sweep is executed perfectly, the feeling of wrist-burn when I am attempting to strangle choke someone until they tap or pass out. I love cheap moves - wrist-locking white belts, hand on the throat, knee to the groin, choking someone’s chin. I love the Brazilian refs who cheat for other Brazilians. I love that when Brazilian Jiu Jitsu was being tested in its infancy 80 years ago, the Jiu Jitsu guys took all comers, and broke the arms of the karate guys who challenged them. I love the unspoken pecking order, having functional, rather than vanity muscles. I love the aggressive tattoos and the don’t fcuk with me attitudes. I love watching people at the very top taking the game in directions that are simply beyond my intellectual grasp. I want kids so I can teach them. I want to do this for the rest of my life. I hope I’m training into my 90’s like Helio Gracie, the founder of the sport, yelling at people 70 years younger that their technique is poor, going to my grave with my gi drying in the closet.
My expectations are that we will train, surf, drink caipirinhas, visit the tourists sights, and have fun in what the natives call, the “marvelous city.” I feel extremely lucky to have this opportunity, to be able to take off two weeks of work in a terrible economy, and to have an amazing spouse who encouraged me to go.
Written today:
My plane arrived in Sao Paulo without a problem. Unfortunately, after three gate changes, our flight was cancelled. Everyone scheduled to fly to Rio was routed around like lemmings all over the airport. We were told to go through customs, but when we arrived, we were told to return to the gate. Halfway to the gate, we were told to return through customs. We all cleared customs, collected our luggage, and boarded a bus to another airport. Upon arriving, we all waited around because nobody knew what to do with us. Finally, we went through ticketing, and checked our baggage once again. We boarded the plane, on a different airline, and arrived at a different airport in Rio than we were originally scheduled to arrive in. Luckily, I was able to make a call at the second Sao Paulo airport and let my instructor and teammates know when and where I would be arriving. After a short flight, I made it - five hours late after being in transit for 30 hours.
posted by Mezz0 at 11:16 AM
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