In the Jell-O

Sara’s eyes were wide as she called to me in the hall.

She shuffled toward me in her pyjamas. They were blue and white and covered in Care Bears. Her brown hair was in knots and she had a huge smile on her face. She held tightly to a cup of coffee. And she looked hungover.

“Oh my God, what a night,” she said to me, far too excited for someone who stunk of booze. I was late for class and not sure I had time for Sara’s stories.

“I Jell-O wrestled!” she pronounced to get my attention.

“What?” I said with a smirk of disbelief.

“I totally did,” she said. She raised her eyebrows in quick repetition over her racoon eye makeup smears. “I won $100, a bottle of champagne and 10 free drink tickets.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. That was a lot of cash and free booze. And figuring out how to get cash and free booze was pretty much all we thought about living in university residence.

“It was downtown at the Thunderdome,” she said sipping her coffee and scratching her rats nest hair. “They have Jell-O wrestling every Sunday and give cash and drinks to the winner.”

I was dumbfounded.

“Anyone can volunteer,” she said. “There were a few guys who went in, but I was the only girl at first. Another girl finally stepped up to challenge me. But I beat her ass.”

Sara was tough, so I didn’t doubt she beat someone’s ass.

“I’m going again next Sunday. You should come and watch me.”

I wasn’t sure if she was flirting or not because Sara was always flirting with me. But I would certainly consider going to watch her wrestle in Jell-O.

I was late for my Monday class, so I gave her a quick hug and raced down the residence hall.

As the week went on, the story of Sara finding a way to get free booze caught the attention of my pals who lived in the building. The thought of watching her in a wrestling ring in a downtown nightclub seemed surreal.

As Sunday approached, Sara invited a bunch of us to go with her.

“Guys, free booze on me,” she coaxed in a confident tone with that big smile of hers. The offer to share her spoils almost certainly ensured we were all in.

The Thunderdome was a creepy dark club on the second floor of an old building on Stanley street in Montreal. There was a nondescript door at street level that opened to two flights of stairs. At the top of the stairs, hulking bouncers sat on tall stools and looked you up and down as you entered. They lorded over the staircase ready to throw you back down if you misbehaved. The club was a cavernous room that appeared to be a converted warehouse. It was filled with smoke from cigarettes and dry ice. Music was blasting and the place was lit with a mix of neon and black light.

When we arrived, it was well into the evening and the club was mostly empty. On the dance floor was a large wrestling ring. There was a giant plastic tarp pulled up on all sides with ropes to fashion a makeshift pool. The pool was filled with orange Jell-O, which looked to be about ankle deep.

I kept my eyes on Sara as she played tour guide for our small group of friends. She held court at the bar and kept looking at the ring on the dance floor, pointing and laughing. She was prepared. There were lights shining on the spot where Sara would accept her treasure on our behalf, securing our free night on the town.

Before long a club employee stepped into the spotlight near the ring and got on the mic. “Who’s up for a JELL-O WRESTLE?” he coaxed in his cheesy WWF voice. The meagre crowd cheered. I looked over at Sara on the barstool and she was already starting to disrobe. Our exhibitionist pal was ready to rumble in her underwear.

“Laaaaaa-dies first!” the dorky ring master declared. And with that Sara’s shirt was off. She handed it to one of her friends and stepped up to the ring. The guy on the mic recognized her right away.

“Oh and it’s Saaaaarrrraaaaa!” he yelled into the mic. “Which one of you lovely ladies will challenge her tonight?”

Sara stood by the ring beaming, with her arms folded. Her eyes were like that of a predatory animal. If there were any actual lovely ladies in the bar, I wondered if any of them were prepared to take off their clothes and fight Sara in Jell-O.

This evening of free booze was about to become a lock.

My pal Laz had a few drinks in him, as did we all. He leaned over to my ear.

“Page,” he said, in a dead serious tone, “I was just talking to Rick and Bobby. The four of us should wrestle in there.”

I turned to him to see if he was serious.

He was serious.

But I knew this was coming. I was worried before I left our university residence and hopped on the bus for downtown. I knew my friends. And I knew myself too well. I figured the odds were pretty good that I’d be stripping in a club on this night. I was so sure, in fact, that I wore swim trunks under my jeans. Just in case. If I was going to wrestle in Jell-O, it was not going to be in my underwear.

“The two of us will go up to the ring,” Laz said with wide eyes. “Then Rick and Bobby will step up as the challengers. We’ll pretend we don’t know them. Sara told me they prefer two against two. There’s no one in this place. We’ll get another $100 and the free booze and split it all!” He was whispering a loud whisper above the blasting music.

I could tell he was proud of his plan.

I turned my attention back to the ring. Sara was standing in her underwear with a glowing smile. The announcer was crowning her as the female champion of Jell-O Wrestling Night At The Thunderdome. And she didn’t even set foot in the ring. Sara had stumbled on a goldmine.

But Laz was doubling down on his plan and Rick and Bobby were ready to go. I looked at him and nodded. Peer pressure or not, I was in.

“Alright fellas,” the Ring Master continued on his mic. “Who’s up for some JELL-O WRASTLING?”

Laz pushed me in the small of my back and nudged me forward. He was a 6 foot 1 skinny dude, but had to weigh at least 190. I clocked in at about 5’ 10”, light as a feather. Laz nudged me again. He was primed to get down to business.

I stepped toward the ring and our pals cheered to see Laz and I pull away from the bar and walk toward the guy with the mic. Taking an exhibitionist cue from Sara, I dramatically took off my shirt and heard another faint cheer over the blaring music as I stepped into the spotlight of the Jell-O ring. I looked back and Laz was taking his pants off.

We were all-in now.

The announcer continued. “We have a team here, everyone! Who wants to challenge these two in the ring?” The crowd cheered and the DJ cranked the music a notch. The lights were dancing around the dark club and the dry ice was making it hard to see my pals back at the bar. The safety of the bar. But I had enough beer in me to feel like I could take this head on. I didn’t have to win. I just had to play.

I took the rest of my clothes off as Rick and Bobby stepped forward as the challengers. The two of them were frantically disrobing as well.

I piled my socks, running shoes, pants and shirt on a table by the ring. I walked up a small ladder and stepped over the ropes and into the pool. When my foot hit the Jell-O, I was not prepared for how cold it was.

My foot instantly went numb.

“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled to myself, “this stuff is ICE cold”. I grimaced as I slipped and slid along the ropes to the other side of the pool, trying to keep my balance and find shallow Jell-O so my feet wouldn’t freeze. I hung onto the ropes and tried to sit on them so I could pull out my feet, one at a time. I was trying to get relief from the freezing slime.

The other three climbed in after me and we set up in pairs on either side of the ring. The ring master asked us if we were ready. He then reminded us the match lasted for one song. He raised his hand in grand gesture and yelled to the crowd: “Who’s ready to rumble!” The crowd cheered and the DJ dropped the needle on The Cramps ‘Goo Goo Muck’. The four of us slipped toward each other and dove into the freezing orange slime.

When the song ended, my heart was racing and I couldn’t believe how much energy it took to wrestle my friends. I was out of breath and the smoke filled room was burning my lungs. It hurt as I tried to catch every breath and I could taste a gross mix of orange slime and smoke in my mouth. We all sat against the ropes, two on each side of the ring. We were exhausted, like we’d just run a marathon. And we were covered in orange sticky Jell-O. I could hear my friends whooping near the bar.

The announcer took over.

“By applause, who is the winning team?” he yelled. He pointed to Laz and me and asked for applause. Then he pointed to Rick and Bobby and asked for more. With control of the decision, he named Laz and I victorious.

With an orange smeared face, Laz winked at me. Jell-O was stuck to his lips and teeth as he smiled. His plan was successful and our mission was complete. We had successfully doubled down.

The night was about to get celebratory.

Laz made his way to get out of the ring. I was still sitting on the ropes panting, catching my breath, hoping to get feeling back in my freezing feet.

“Not so fast!” the announcer pointed to him, loudly speaking into the mic. “Is there anyone else in the house who’d like to challenge our winners?” The announcer coaxed the growing crowd in the club.

I swallowed hard. “Seriously?” I thought to myself, as every muscle in my body was wrecked from exhaustion and my skin was frozen.

Challengers?

Almost on cue, two huge muscular guys stepped up to the ring taking their shirts off. They saw easy prey.

I looked at Laz with exhausted panic. “I cannot do this again,” I said to him over the music.

He stared at me with a straight orange face.

“Yes you can.”

But I could tell he was hurting as well.

The two guys stepped into the ring. One was really tall and thin. The other was shorter but wide. Their muscular frames glistened in the spotlights. One guy looked like a football player. I shook my head at the sight of them as they got ready on the ropes. It was time for a plan. With all of our pals watching, I knew we couldn’t go down without a fight.

I leaned over to Laz. “I’ll take the tall skinny guy.” He nodded. With that, we were ready for round two.

I bounced on the ropes with all the fake confidence in the world. I was a spectacle smeared in orange slime. I could see our pals cheering for us, now ringside. The announcer gave the signal and the DJ dropped the needle. The Ramones rang out, with their cover of ‘Surfin’ Bird’. When I heard the sounds of one of my favourite bands, I knew I could get through this, for better or for worse.

I slipped and slid toward the tall guy who instantly pushed me down into the freezing Jell-O. I squirmed to get my balance so I could get my footing and get back on my feet. As he was coming in for me, he slipped and fell right on his ass. I got about half way up and fell again. The two of us were flailing at each, trying to grab hold and get an edge. The tall guy managed to get his footing as I went down again. My senses were shot. My lungs were burning and my skin was freezing. My head was spinning with the bright lights and raging Ramones. Everything became a blur. My cheering friends. My battling partner. They were all a blurred together with the lights, smoke, music and Jell-O.

I was on my knees losing all ability to get up when the tall guy got his footing and put my head between his knees. I was caught and in trouble. He had pinned me.

“Well the bird, bird, bird…b-bird’s the word,” Joey Ramone sang.

Joey helped me summon my last bit of energy.

I reached up and grabbed the skinny guy’s thighs. Will every fiber in my aching body, I used the power of punk music to lift up as hard as I could. The tall guy lost his balance and flipped backwards through the air and on to his back. He came falling down in a giant splash of Jell-O. I got my footing, stood up and in an exaggerated display of showmanship, I put my arms high in the air and looked to the ceiling of the bar.

The crowd went wild.

That single move put us over the top.

The announcer crowned us champs and I crawled out of the ring to our celebrating friends. Sara was the first to grab me and put me in a bear hug.

“I’m so proud of you!” the Jell-O wrestling queen yelled into my ear, squeezing me as I was still catching my breath and felt like passing out. As she released me, she looked at me with her beaming eyes and huge smile as she wiped orange residue off my cheeks.

My pals helped me put my clothes on over my freezing, sticky skin.

Then they held me up as I hobbled to the bar.