Drag Queens, Broken Knees, Lawless Streets, and New Kudo

​There appears to be some kind of a 10 year cycle to my life. When I returned from Alaska the very first time, The next year was spent in the lower 48 of the United States trying to narrow down exactly what it was I was trying to do in life, and how I was going to do it. 10 years later I had graduated with a Bachelor's of Science and returned to the states from Australia via a long list of countries. I wound up milling about for a year stuck within doldrums setting the heading of my life. 10 years later Now, 10 years later, I had returned from Denali and could again feel that I was stuck in still water with no wind, at an important crossroads between who knows what. I had some life changing ideas, but for the moment it seemed like I was stuck in a once-every-ten-years off year. I had hoped to get to Taiwan for some kung fu before China “ruined” it like they did Hong Kong, visit a deployed buddy in Okinawa and get some training, and then return to Japan for the summer. Instead it looked like I would be lucky just to pay my bills.


I started the year with a 14 hour shift on New Year's day at G's valet company, and Japan was hit with a series of terrible earthquakes and a plane crash. Not a great start. Also, it was finally time to start getting my teeth and jaws fixed after getting them shattered. It would have been a nightmare regardless, but since I still didn't have nay insurance, or money, it really wasn't going well. The first person I saw, costing me a few hundred dollars just to walk in the door, wanted to do $4,000 worth of preperation work before even starting to fix things. They couldn't even do any of the work themselves, since I had so many weird things. “We would pull your wisdom teeth, but they've grown too close to the nerve, and if we mess it up it will give you permanent nerve damage.” “We could straighten your teeth in preparation for your jaws to be realigned, but because of the positions of your bone, your teeth might just fall out.” That's the opposite of what I was going for! They also wanted to dig up under my gums and dig around, and also replace a 30 year old broken metal filling, but because I'm resistance to local anesthetics they would have to put me fully under, but weren't sure they could do it with my apnea and floppy heart a lifetime of adventurous abuse had given me. They referred me to a specialist supposedly used to my type of nonsense. It took two months of emails and phone calls to finally get in, and not only was it expensive, but they then had to refer me to an even higher speed surgeon for an even more expensive consultation, and the three would devise a time consuming and very expensive treatment plan. This helped put the kibosh on looking at dojo locations to get Nash Dojo up and running. I had talked with the owner of an old Chinese restaurant that had closed down, and even though it would have been great, there was a bidding war going on for the place and I had no business going into business with my lack of … everything. The truck I drive had also just died. I wondered again if it would be forever, as it wouldn't take a jump and kept trying to start itself even when no one was in it. I had to have it towed to the mechanics and while I waited to hear back regarding it's fate, I was borrowing cars and rides from people as expenses continued to mount.


I was taking every gig and job I could, while looking for gainful employment. I had even volunteered for a gauntlet at the valet company lasting from Valentine's Day, historically the busiest day of the year for the company, going all the way for a week while the city hosted the “NBA All-Star Game”. The restaurants were opening at 10 or 11 in the morning and staying open until 2 or 3 in the morning. I was scheduled for three or four, 15-hour shifts in a row! I knew nothing of the NBA, and never get star struck so this really was just a massive inconvenience with the small chance I could make some decent money from it. I literally bumped shoulders with Charles Barkley, who's car was then involved in a hit and run, and had CNN's Wolf Blitzer give me the stink eye in the bathroom because there was a line behind him. I was just trying to get through. Right as this hell-week was ramping up I got contacted to do an acting/modeling gig.


Someone who won “Rupaul's Drag Race” was doing some thing where they were taking non-drag queens and giving them drag makeovers. The money was good and it sounded interesting, so I was in. It only took me 40 minutes to get to the location, but a handful of the actors and models drove 5 hours from other states! There was an eclectic group of people there. There were your normal models, but also a guy who ran a male exotic dancer club, “Magic Mike” style, who had all sorts of crazy stories. There was the drag queen “Luxx”, and myself. I was hoping for a full wardrobe situation so I could get a ridiculous picture of me doing something like a flying splits kick in a dress and heels, but Luxx's flight was delayed and they didn't get in until an hour into the shoots. We just shot B-roll until Luxx was ready, but as a result we just got make up makeovers. When I took my shirt off for the regular modeling part, somebody yelled “Jeezus Captain America! The shirt really hid everything. You look like and action movie star!” That's the goal. I was hoping the make up would at least make me look pretty or cool, like David Bowie, but I turned out looking more like “The Joker” from Batman. I had to leave that gig and go straight to back to the valet, so I drove around like that. It took me a whole pack of face towels and a lot of forceful scrubbing to get all the make up off, but I couldn't get it off of my eyelids, so I worked valet with my eyes covered in golden glitter. Four showers later and I still didn't have it all gone.




While I worked like a maniac someone was seemingly trying to get a hold of me. It was “Vino”, who was the guy that insisted I be in a podcast and forced it into existence, then when everyone involved found a groove they liked, he wanted to change it into something literally no one but him wanted, so we cut professional ties with him and went off and did it ourselves, creating the short-lived “The NASHional Pastime”podcast. The same guy a buddy and I had stayed with 12 or 13 years earlier so I could train in LA and my buddy and Vino could work on some project together. They had a fight and my buddy voluntarily left and either got a hotel or stayed at the airport until it was time for us to fly back, just to get away from Vino. I wondered if time had mellowed Vino out, since we hadn't spoken in 7 or 8 years. As always I didn't have a cell phone and hate social media so much that I would set videos and blog posts to auto-upload to minimize interaction with the stuff. Of course, this meant Vino was having a difficult time getting a hold of me. He joined a social platform and managed to get a message to me. I told him my email was the same as it had been for 20 years, and even though I don't check it everyday that would be his best bet.


I shot him an email after he messaged me about going on a big trip:


“Hey man!  


I didn't know you where trying to get ahold of me.  No phone makes it tough I guess, but I check this email semi-regularly.
What's the situation?  Is everything going well? Give me the details of such of your grand trip!”


He replied the same day, but I didn't get it that day:


“Ok so here's the deal...


Your old buddy Vino is dying of an incurable disease and looking to go out on his horse. Spent the past few years studying the population issues our societies are facing and have unintentionally become a world leading expert on the subject. Now, having the expertise required and the necessary funding arrangements in place -- I'm ready to start planning the expedition. 


However, this expedition is going to take us to the front lines of an immigration crisis that's not only dangerous - but also a little demanding on our senses. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, will be to accompany me on a series of shoots and interviews acting as both my secondary camera man and security team/travel advisor.


Not sure what your current schedule is looking like, but if you can be ready to leave by spring/early summer -- I can promise you a free trip around the world, a per diem for food; and series of unique experiences that will put us at the front lines of a cultural tipping point many people don't even realize is taking place.


Know you don't have a phone, but when you can - please feel free to give me a call at xxxxxxxxx”




He writes again 3 days later, since I haven't checked my emails:


“Okie dokie, I think I got the message. Thought you’d be a perfect fit for the project if you were available, but have decided to go a different direction. Best wishes and hope everything works out.”

I see the email the day it's sent and respond:


“Man, it was only a couple of days between when I got those emails. I don't check them everyday, and I work nights, weekends, and everything else. Are you really dying of a disease, besides the human condition I mean? What's life like for you these days? Still in your relationship? Is this something you've been working towards for awhile and saving up to, or did you get inspired and get some backers to fund the expedition? Do you have concrete shoot plans for locations and specific people or is it like a man on the street style improvisation? What are the planned countries visited, Length of time in each one, persons of interest, and modes of travel? Why do you anticipate the trip to be demanding on our senses? How many total people will be in the expedition and what are their roles? Do you plan to move from one point to another continuously, or pop by the states between locations for gear change and re-rations? What's the plan for the project, a movie or show? Distribution method? As for me, my current schedule is filled with much work to fix the things that keep breaking. My vehicle just crapped out and I needed to have it towed to the mechanic, meanwhile I'm having to borrow cars to get to different jobs. This week I'll be working 5 days of 15hour shifts in a row for 7.25$ per hour, plus tips (which are not great), along with sprinkling in other gigs. I've got to fix the vehicle, the house I'm in keeps needing things fixed and the bills are high. I'm currently treading paying those, and if I did leave for the summer I would need to get all those bills paid in advance, and secure someone to watch the place and pets. If I could even get it all arranged I wouldn't be ready by spring but maybe summer.


Let me know what the plans are and I'll see if it's feasible on my end.”


I made an effort to check the next couple of days, and hearing nothing added this addendum:


“I also forgot that I'm trying to get money to start fixing my jaw and teeth.  I had my jaw and teeth shattered and am just now able to start getting them looked at.  My first consultation was 2 weeks ago and it was hundreds$ just to walk through the door.  They referred me to somewhere else that I'm still trying to get into for some actual work, but that will be another consultation fee, and they want to do 4,000$ of prep work before they even start fixing the damage.  I guess my face is in better shape than the vehicle and house, but just more numbers to deal with.  Keep me posted on the plans.” 


Vino then immediately responded:

“I haven’t read anything you’ve replied- I’m only responding to tell you I’m not interested because that’s what common decency demands. Took me two weeks just to get a reply out of you (after multiple attempts and deleted comments) while trying to offer you a once in a lifetime opportunity. 1: You owe GC an apology because he tried first. 2: I don’t really care what you have to say, there’s no excuse for being an adult human male and conducting yourself in such a way. Goodbye and good luck.”


I certainly wasn't expecting that. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I felt so lucky that I had been so busy, otherwise I would have been tempted by the offer, before he revealed himself as an insane person. Was he really dying? What even was going on? If it was as grand and dangerous as he was saying, it would be even more so with someone like that in charge. I'd seen the type before. I can't say for certain because I hadn't interacted with him, but red flags were everywhere, and seemed to be showing signs of manipulation. Talking about dying with no explanation to pray on sympathies, then get someone into the field where their expenses are paid but they don't make actual money making the subject completely dependent on you for food, safety, and travel so they can't quit or leave. The tone of “Act Now or lose forever” of hard sales. He was also sounding like a paranoid schizophrenic with his manic sounding idea that had no details, then his sudden shift to people being out to get him, going out of his way to ignore my questions and details. Time hadn't mellowed this guy. He seemed to have spiraled out of control. It's sad to see people do this, and it did effect me. Of course I didn't know if this was really the case or not, but this was the likeliest conclusion to come to. Whether he was fully off the deep end or not, I was now chronologically an old man; there is no room or tolerance for shit like that in my life. I was too busy working trying to get basic needs like medical care and gainful employment.


I figured while I had a disjointed pile of gigs instead of a singular job I may as well actually PURSUE acting and modeling since up until now those things had been just kind of coming to me little by little. They say it only takes one break and then you're set, so I thought I'd make an effort to actually audition for things. My few remaining non-productive moments were now eaten up by self-tapes. Nothing. I might have got more notice with no effort at all! Maybe I needed a deeply entrenched agent?


While all this was happening I sent USA Kudo liaison JD Alexander an email asking if the winter training camp he mentioned awhile back was still on. He had said he was shooting for March and I was checking to see the status. He said it was indeed on, but it was in just a couple weeks at the end of February! I scrambled to get there. He said they were flying in Komatsu sensei, who I hadn't seen since the last time I was in Japan, and a couple other instructors, because some people were testing for their black belts to open some USA Kudo schools around the country, including one next to George! I told George we could go when it opened if the guy was legit.


I was a little worried though. I hadn't met the new Headmaster, Osada, that had taken over since the founder, Azuma, had died. Was this guy going to be the traditional bureaucratic Japanese leader? The type that gets so mired down in rules and hierarchy and territory that nothing gets done? I'd heard that some of the competition rules had changed, so I figured I'd brush up on them. I checked the official “Rules” section of the official website and it said “Rules only available to Kudo members. Ask your branch chief to contact headquarters regarding the rules.” What!? You can't even know the rules without some insiders permission? That sounded like classic shady Japanese Bureaucratic stuff, and the only reasons I could think of to gate keep the rules were all nefarious.


The timing of the camp wasn't just inconvenient for me. Bryant, who I had tested with, was also flying in on a Friday night with nowhere to stay, with the camp starting early Saturday morning. We decided we'd meet at the airport and figure out a place to crash for the night, before we would move to JD's floor like usual … though this time his floor was in a hotel. Right before I flew out I got an acting gig offer to act as a store owner who would tout the benefits of switching to some AI predictive crime tool … except I would be touting it to an actual news reporter on the news … was I getting solicited to make fake news!? I likely would have done it if the money was good, but it didn't matter because it was during the Kudo winter camp so I had to pass.


The plane ticket was unreasonably expensive. The TSA had changed their procedures, again, from just 4 months prior, and the flight itself... well it was a North American Airplane. I got to the boarding door and was told “All overhead bins are full. You'll have to check your carry-on”. I didn't trust them to safely transport it in time, but if it couldn't be helped it couldn't be helped. Staff took my bag from me and I boarded, only to have the attendants come over the intercom and literally say “We have SO much overhead space left. Stow everything you have up there.” What!? I sat in my cramped middle-seat seething. I hate flying. 25 or 30 years of being beaten emotionally by the airlines and airports had left me with a conditioned anxiety. It's always something, and with record reports of planes ramming into each other on the runway or their doors and windows blowing off mid-flight, or rogue captains just going insane and trying to crash, and airlines selling passenger luggage, or Boeing killing their employees and intentionally putting out faulty planes, it was no wonder people had a general dissatisfaction with the whole process of flying. One day, they'll charge passengers for the air that they breath on the plane!




I landed in Texas to change planes, went to the bathroom and saw a cockroach the size of my fist, then found out my gate had changed and I had 15 minutes to get to the other side of the airport! I made it in the knick of time, the plane got fully boarded, and the captain came over the intercom saying something on the plane had broke. Maintenance teams were on the way but he said there was no telling how long it could take to fix. He said if we were grounded over an hour we would deboard. Of course. The plane was declared unfit and taken out of service. An operations team was now hunting for another plane. They found one, changing our gate back to the OTHER side of the Dallas airport, and we waited a couple more hours. A plane did come, but it was from Mexico so they had to do customs stuff before we could board, pushing the flight even further back. I guess it was a good thing Denver was an hour behind Dallas, though it was late at night were I'd come from and I was tired, physically and then some. Using the burner phone I grabbed for the trip, I contacted Bryant with an update. So much for meeting at the airport. He messaged he would send me an Uber whenever I managed to get there. I suppose electronic communications come in handy from time to time ….


I arrived in Denver around midnight, happy to escape the plane that smelled like it was made of diarrhea. Surprisingly my forcefully checked back showed up on time and in one piece. Bryant called me an Uber and I arrived at the hotel well after midnight. The room he got even had a bed for me. Fancy! I would have been fine sleeping on the floor. We hadn't seen each other in a year, since our testing where we were both in the worst shapes of our lives, so we chatted and caught up until past 2:30 in the morning. Even when we tried to get to sleep it wasn't working out. 7Am arrived too soon. Bryant left to get the rental car, I did my morning exercises. I got a message on the burner that someone I knew had just died, and the funeral would be on the other side of the country while I was at this camp. First the fake news gig and now this. Nothing could be done about it, so I tried to not let it bother me. Bryant came back with the rental car, we pilfered a hotel breakfast and made our way to the training venue.


The camp was being held at a church. One of the testees had been using the church as his dojo, apparently teaching Brazilian Jujutsu and a version of Ashihara Karate, and was looking to convert to Kudo. The place was fairly large, so it worked well. Since the first part of the camp was basics and moving combinations, many brand new students were in attendance, maybe 20 or 30 total. There were 4 people testing for their black belt, and 1 testing for brown. Bryant and I were there to help and get a little training in. The first part of the training ran from 9 until 11, though Bryant got us there 30 minutes late. Putting on my uniform and stepping onto the mat, JD pointed to my belt. I was wearing my usual blank black belt instead of my embroidered Kudo belt from headquarters that they sent me after my test. In fact, not only was I not wearing it, I had never worn it. I had never even taken it out of the package they sent it to me in. There was no way I couldn't wear it in front of the Japanese instructors that were coming in during lunch break. I told JD not to worry, I brought it and I would put it on during break. We broke for lunch at noon and Bryant and I stayed with the test candidates to spar for another hour. I was introduced to everyone and someone in the group said “Oh. So YOUR NASH. We heard about you...” I wondered what all they had heard. During our almost 4 hour lunch break JD left to pick up the Japanese instructors from the airport, who had just come from a camp and test in LA, and before that, from Japan. The three Japanese instructors were about as prestigious as it gets in the Kudo world: Komatsu sensei- now ranked shihan, two time world champion-Ryota, and the new global headmaster of the entire style- Osada.


Getting back from lunch I walked by the backroom where a bunch of people were talking and eating. I poked my head in to see JD and the Japanese instructors eating. Komatsu sensei looked over and said “Nash!”. I guess he remembered me. We traded “Fist of the North Star” jokes and Komatsu introduced me to headmaster Osada. He said “when I first met Nash he was doing handstand push ups with only to fingers on each hand.” To which I said 'ACTUALLY, it was one finger on each hand.' Komatsu said “Oh, my mistake”. JD chimed in, adding “well, since you corrected him, now you've got to do it for Osada Jukucho(Headmaster).” Now? “Now.” I didn't know if I could, it had been awhile, but I couldn't back down given the circumstances.


Thankfully I was able to pull off 2 clean reps in front of everyone, and made a good first impression. We all chatted for awhile, and then resumed training around 3. Putting back on our uniforms we lined up and Komatsu said “Nash, come stand up next to the headmaster. You'll be the translator today.” What!? The headmaster's translator is a big deal, and a whole lot of responsibility. I said maybe someone else should, since I hadn't conversed in Japanese in 4 years. He replied “you'll do fine. The translator is you.” OSU! So stressful. Of all the non-Japanese there I was the only one who spoke Japanese though. Fair enough. It actually worked out well and they said without me they couldn't have done the camp right since expressing esoteric jargon is difficult in a foreign language. It's difficult in ANY language! The rest of the day consisted of 3 hours of feeling drills that really tired everyone out, made extra difficult because I had to do them and translate while out of breath and working brain cells. Training ended at 6, meaning Bryant and I had 6 hours of fairly hard training, and then we all broke for dinner. That's when we all found out that everyone had been issued parking tickets, despite doing what we were told. Even the guy who runs the dojo at the church got one! We worked on finding a resolution.


Bryant and I had planned to crash on JD's hotel floor, but his wife and child had come over so it would have been better if we didn't. Bryant found a hotel that was reasonably priced, and had a 4 out of 5 star rating. The place was nice, but navigating it was a nightmare. It was built like a haunted cruise ship designed by Stanley Kubrick and Ivo Shandor. It was a new-wave art deco mad house. After we got settled we went out to meet everyone for dinner at a Chinese hot pot place. We formally celebrated Komatsu Sensei's birthday with a cake and some singing, and he got very drunk. He asked me to be his translator at dinner, which was extra difficult given the intoxication level. Will, who runs the LA dojo, showed up around dinner to help with the following day's test. I hadn't seen him since our “date” in Tokyo 8 years prior. I razzed him about not being around to translate, telling him he had to do it the next day. At dinner conversation it was revealed that Bryant planned to go to Japan this summer for training. I told him that was my original plan for the year, but with my vehicle breaking down so badly, my skull and teeth being so expensive, and finding gainful employment so difficult, I told him I doubted if I could make it. He said “I'm going to train and take the next rank test.” Oh man, that's what I wanted! JD chimed in “I'm going and taking some students to test.” What!? Will added “I'll be there testing as well. The exam should be in June or July”. What the heck!? EVERYONE's going but me!? Not cool. The group said “Find a way”. It was looking difficult at the moment. Bryant asked Komatsu if he could just show up to the dojo he was invited to train at, or if he needed to do something special. “No problem, just write JD a letter with your intended dojo that you've been invited to, along with how long you'll be there. He'll forward it to me. I'll take it to headquarters, and if they give it the go-ahead, I'll then be able to go to the branch chiefs of the area and make the introductions. They'll then pass it on to the teachers ...” Bryant was dumb founded. I don't think he was used to organizations in Japan being run like a corporate military. Even Komatsu didn't like it, complaining drunkenly that Japanese organizations have an old inefficient way of thinking. Bryant asked me if I ever did that stuff. I said Nah, I can speak Japanese, so I usually just rock up politely with the skills to back it up and go about my business. “Damn.”


We parted ways and went to bed at midnight, though I couldn't sleep since my hot pot had the item that guarantees I get cramps and diarrhea. Add to that the altitude, soreness, and already not sleeping, and I wasn't at my best in the morning. I couldn't even eat breakfast. I had got up at 7 to do my morning exercises and hydrate to at least be able to get through helping with the black belt test.


Testing touched on the full curriculum. Will was in attendance so he got to be Osada Jukucho's translator for the first half, since he also speaks Japanese. When it came time to do the fighting test for the black belt candidates, we separated into body indexes so everyone could the number of fights they needed as safely as possible. I was chosen to be the biggest guy's opponent, even though we weren't close in size or weight, AT ALL. JD said “You're the CLOSEST”. Closest wasn't even close. There was a very tall skinny cowboy that was JD's student testing for brown belt, he got chosen to be an opponent for the giant man from Kentucky simply because they were the same height, though Kentucky man looked like he outweighed the cowboy substantially. The two of us were selected as the big man's opponents... The Kentucky giant needed to have 8 fights and since the cowboy and I were the only ones even remotely close, we would make up all 8. We would each fight him 4 times. I said “Oh, so this is a fight gauntlet for ME now to?” JD responded that we would take turns, so we could rest while the other guy was fighting him, so it was really just like a regular fight except I was fighting several weight classes up. After the big guy had fought all 8, the next test candidate would do his gauntlet, and then next, and so on until all 4 candidates finished. Cowboy was up first, then me. It was a good fight, but the man from Kentucky won, as you would think since he was testing for his black belt and much larger and cowboy was testing for brown. I was up now. Second fight of the 36 or so we needed to get through. This guy was taller and heavier than me, but I had experience on my side. The second the fight started I landed a head kick on him, which he likely wasn't expecting given our size difference. I moved around landing convincing shots. The guy's reach was an issue though, and after half a minute or so I found myself constantly peppered with techniques I couldn't counter from a middle or far distance. I decided to take away his advantage and end it quick. I barged in, got grips on both arms to neutralize them, then sank back and down to keep his weight sunken so he couldn't kick. He now couldn't punch or kick, and I quickly rammed a couple headbutts into him to straighten him up and off balance him, moving to the side for a Osoto Gari, the large outside reap. When he went down the fight was over, but not because I landed the finishing blow after the throw. He decided to resist and sink, but being a big guy he had a common weak link. I went to sweep the leg and throw, and his foot stuck to the mat. He crumpled straight down, his leg broken.


The fight stopped. His body lay contoured like the chalk outline of someone who had been hit by a speeding car. “I can't move my leg!” he winced. Talks began circulating about whether to call an ambulance. I explained to him that I have much training and experience dealing with this, and if he gave me consent I would check him out. He agreed. Upon examination I found that rather than a major bone breaking his knee cap had dislocated and moved laterally around almost fully to the back of his knee. I told him I could likely reduce the dislocation, that is put it back in place, if he wanted, or we could wait for the EMTs we had called. He told me to do it. Gently, and with much care, over the course of 15 or 20 minutes I had been able to put everything back where it went, fully straighten his leg, and perform all the field assessments I knew to establish level of use. He showed no signs of disruptive swelling, impeded circulation, or damage to major muscles or nerves. I told him without an ex-ray for bones and something similar to an MRI we couldn't know the extent of damage, but it looked like he could stand with assistance, walk with a cane, and would heal in a couple months, but you never can tell. Everyone was shocked. Not just because of ow the fight ended, many people had seen me damage people before, but no one had seen me in medical professional mode. Komatsu sensei said “you really should go to medical school and become a doctor.” I'd think about it. Bryant said “What the hell!? You've got all this training in different stuff, degrees, black belts, you speak Japanese … you've got too much going on to be slumming it! You should be making serious money!” I liked the sound of that, but until an employer agreed I guessed I would keep sleeping on the floor of transport hubs.


The EMTs arrived, somewhat confused that there wasn't really anything to do. I briefed them on what I'd done, and we watched the footage of the fight leading up to the moment of injury. One person captured it from the perfect angle, and upon watching it the whole room let out a collective groan when it happened. The EMTs said it was a good thing I'd done everything before they got there because the Denver EMTs are not allowed to handle dislocations, it's out of their scope of practice, and they didn't have a paramedic on duty at the moment. The EMTs came to the same conclusion I had, helped him up, and Will volunteered to drive him to the hospital. Komatsu sensei asked why he didn't just take the ambulance. We answered “It's too expensive.” Komatsu sensei looked horrified and said “Ambulances cost money here!?” Yeah, a lot. That's why he's getting Will to drive him. “In Japan you just take them to get to the hospital...” yeah.... not here. Osada and Komatsu asked how long our big guy would have to live at the hospital before he was good. “Oh, he'll be out tonight.”, we said. Komatsu asked “Oh, you think he'll be fine tonight?” No, he'll just be out tonight. “Why doesn't he stay until he's fully good?” Too expensive. “What!? Then how are they supposed to monitor his recovery?” Yeah, the medical system in America right now is... not great... Don't get hurt here.


The whole ordeal took maybe an hour, and had really drained everyone. JD, myself, and the Japanese instructors were used to it, but the candidates where not, excluding JD's student who competes in MMA. Headmaster Osada canvased for the best way forward. “I think they're too shaken up to continue as-is”. JD asked around, and they were. “I'll let them finish the fighting in the morning with you, at your discretion, and send me the videos. I'll grade them from that.” Just like that I got 34 fights postponed. I told Komatsu sensei I felt bad. I didn't mind hurting people, I just want it to be on purpose. “You must not feel bad. This is something we all accept. If you feel bad, you'll only make things worse, and if he sees you feeling bad, he'll feel worse. It is your obligation to face it without negativity.” he was right. I watched the video, my technique was good. These things happen. This just continued my habit of leaving a trail of crumpled bodies in my wake, intentionally or not. It was officially camp and test ending time, so Headmaster Osada decided to call it. He gave a closing speech, which I had to translate … Will got me again! Was this why he volunteered to drive to the hospital …? After training we were all milling around and Osada started doing a thing I'd never seen before, but it was reminiscent of the movement of Tetsuhiro Hokama of Okinawa Hokama Goju. JD's wife asked me to ask him if she could video it. Then he asked me if I wanted to learn. Before long we were all back training this mysterious version of the mawashi uke. “This is the REAL way to do it. When it eventually made it's way to Kyokushin and then Kudo, we were all doing it wrong. For warm ups we'll keep doing it that way because of the organization, but when you're practicing on your own, do this. This is the REAL way.” We talked about some of his experiences, and it turned out the headmaster and I had studied the same Goju in Okinawa! Osada still heads there to train with Higaonna Sensei's group. He told us about how it's important to seek out many different experiences in life, and all sorts of teachers, and learn from all these things. “Kudo” is written with the characters “The Way of Openness” after all. To see no just a Japanese instructor mention a different organization, Kyokushin, but the headmaster no less, and talk of the importance of broadening your horizons with different arts, styles, and experiences, it really impressed me. It also put my worries to rest. I like the new Headmaster, Osada! He spoke of various arts and freely discussed high level esoteric techniques and philosophy. I was glad I had moved heaven an earth to get to this training camp. I had learned so much in a short time, and had much to work on. JD told me later “ I kind of stalk Osada Jukucho on social media. When he's not at headquarters he's at a little farm he bought in the country side posting pictures of his crops and old wooden traditional Japanese dojo with a space heater in the corner. You know that dojo is cold as hell in the winter!” Yep, I like Headmaster Osada.


We all left training and got ready for an excursion JD had arranged: a distillery tour at a famous Denver whiskey distillery. I was to be the translator. I didn't know what was going on! Thankfully Komatsu sensei is a whiskey aficionado, so he was actually getting more than I was, and then explaining it to me and the others in Japanese. At the final stop on the tour, Will and our big Kentucky man on crutches came in. He told me his x-ray showed no bone damage, and hew as cleared to go about business until he got home to see his Ortho. He told me the doctor said it was a good thing I put his knee back when I did, since not only were the EMTs not able to do it, but it would have taken a long time before he could see someone at the hospital who could do it, and by then secondary damage from swelling would be happening, and more invasive interventions would have likely been necessary. I told him thanks for granting me informed consent to do it. Everything so far pointed to him making a full recovery relatively quickly.


After the distillery we went back to JD's hotel for showers, and then a pub for some snacks; Since no one had eaten since last night's dinner, before finally moving to our dinner reservations at the oldest restaurant in Denver, The most American place I have likely ever been. The place specializes in frontier wild game and was stuffed with antique weapons and taxidermy. JD and I got the Japanese instructors to try “rocky mountain oysters” before telling them what they were. Only JD and I wound up eating them. JD, the Ozzy who was testing, Komatsu, Osada, and myself all split a 3.5 pound high grade chunk of meat. Our dinner lasted until quite late in the night, and immediately after JD dropped me at the airport around midnight for my absurdly early flight. The Japanese instructors would be flying back to Japan about 8 hours behind me. After picking up 45 cents from the airport bathroom stall floor I began my series of expensive inconvenient flights. My first flight's seat cushion had been forcefully removed and flipped up, only half put back. I couldn't fix it, and I could feel every extra jostle of both the plane and the guy behind me. I had a layover in New York City, and tried to get some sleep stretched out on the floor there, but the airport was jam packed with crying babies. The next flight's seat belt had been removed and reattached, but was backwards so I couldn't buckle it without putting an uncomfortable twist in the belt. These were not budget tickets! This was not a budget airline!


When I got back I received a personal message from Headmaster Osada. He thanked me for my interpreting, talked about how great it was to meet me and train with me, and said he looked forward to seeing me back in Japan. Talk about rare for a Japanese organization! The higher ups almost never directly interact with the grunts, let alone a foreigner, and he personally messaged me about coming back to Japan. I HAD to get back now! I needed to get in fighting gauntlet test shape, and soon. I also had to find the money.


It just so happened the week I got back I landed and filmed 6 television commercials. Five of them where for a home HVAC/plumbing company, “Mr. Quick”, and the other was for a restaurant called “Smokey Bones”. The money was good, thought not good enough to fund an expedition to Japan, let alone fix all the broken things I was dealing with, but it was a good start. The people on the commercial shoots were super interesting, from a former NFL player who had just done a film, to a dancer who was just in a move with Don Cheedle, to a guy that is a practicing doctor in Texas who just films stuff on the side when he's around, to a lady who based in London and acted full time. Any of them could be a big help for future endeavors, and I would need the help. The money from valet was gone.


I returned to my buddy G's valet company after filming the commercials, and things in the city were worse than ever. I had returned to a downtown that seemed almost perpetually in a riot. One day a couple of 14 year old were running from the cops and managed to get tackled in front of our restaurant. One had a Glock with a full auto mod and the other had a full rifle down his pants. One night I had the night off only to come in the next day and find pools of blood dried on the side walk, trailing down the street, and splattered on the windows. It turned out to be a customer of ours who threw a fit because his crappy car's “start” button had fallen into the vehicle and he decided to just throw a fit, screamed at G pinning him against the wall to intimidate him, and then went inside to continue his tirade, where he shoulder bumped a large juiced up good-'ol-boy who was having none of it and beat the shit out of him. The bully then did what bullies do and tried to take it out on someone else, returning to yell and bleed all over G. The cops were called, but did nothing and got dismissed by the guard on duty before anything could be settled. Thankfully G wasn't physically harmed. I told the district manager “You see what happens when you give me the day off?” He said, “Yeah, that guy got to leave alive!” He wouldn't have pulled that shit if I was there. Another day a couple hundred kids ranging in age from around 8 to 17 started rampaging through downtown. They were blocking traffic to film videos of themselves dancing and street fighting. The detective who was posted at the restaurant radioed for help from police, but it took them 3 hours to get there. Meanwhile they continued their tirade, fighting and jumping on cars. One threw a full cup of ice at our detective's head, hitting him. Thankfully he's a good guy so only tried to peacefully disburse the kids. They weren't having it. One of them spit at my feet, and I let him know that if he'd actually hit me I would have taken him out. More kids arrived, more chaos. The detective and I wound up taking turns macing the crowd just to get guests through the mob. I had to escort fearful old ladies with little kids through the mob. The police wouldn't help. I saw a group of the kids climbing up and over one of our cars so I sauntered over thinking they were trying to break into the vehicle. What I saw when I got there was much worse. 10 to 15 kids curb stomping another kid. They scattered when I arrived but they had already smashed the kid up pretty bad, taking his shoes, phone, wallet, and belt. There was some random guy there too, and I asked if he knew the kid. “Nah, I was just picking up a food order for delivery when I saw that. I was trying to save him but I couldn't. My little brother was killed the same way.” At the end of that night, G, the detective, and myself were thinking out loud that it was coming time for us all to stop working downtown.


A week later, the day before Easter, we hadn't been on the job for more than 5 minutes when a call came over the detective's radio: someone had just chopped into a random lady with an ax. The woman had been extracted with ax wounds, but the man with the full length black leather trench coat and face tattoos, and an ax, remained at large, and we were to keep an eye out. Things only got worse from there. All the kids from the previous week returned, plus some. There seemed to be a coupled hundred. They went back to rampaging through town, including chucking bottles and things at pedestrians off the top of an 8 story parking garage. They could have killed somebody just with that. They got more brazen as the night wen ton, and by sundown the detective and I decided it wasn't worth wasting more mace. G, myself, and the detective packed up and moved indoors. The air was growing foreboding and though we were likely going to be there until 11:30 or so at night, we decided to leave early at 10:30. Shortly after we left a group of those kids got up into the upper flood of the parking garage over looking an intersection and opened fire on pedestrians from the vantage point. At least 7 people were shot ranging in age from about 12 to 17. One of our coworkers at the sister restaurant a few stores over was still working and at that intersection emptying trash when the bullets started to fly. He dove under a parked school bus for cover, and thankfully wasn't hit. The next morning G and I showed up to work on Easter Sunday and found broken glass everywhere, caution tape all over the place, and the awning we stand under to work, where we were supposed to have been, had bullet holes through it... we both turned in our resignations that day.


We had been in and around so many mass shootings, stabbings, assaults, and general deaths just working valet. I myself had seen at least 10 people die on the job from all kinds of things. Ranging from assault to getting run over to over doses. I had seen more action supposedly just parking cars than I had doing scum bag security or bouncing, which I had stopped so I wouldn't have to put up with this stuff, and now I was doing it and not even getting paid for it! Minimum wage plus tips!? Enough. Bryant's words echoed in my memory : “You've got too much going on to be slumming it! You should be making serious money!”


G had a successful photography businesses and lived with his girl who also was doing well. I didn't have any immediate prospects, but it didn't matter. I remember a warning one of my Marine buddies had given me, telling me about the toughest Marine he'd ever seen when they were deployed in Iraq. The man was a force, but got murdered stateside in a bar by some random crackhead. He had told me that story and then told me to get out of the environment, because it wasn't how someone like me should go out. I agreed. If I could help it I wasn't going to get taken out by some strung-out bum or a shit heel child with a gun.


I didn't know what I would do, but I knew I wouldn't be dealing with people pooping on the side walk I was working on, or fighting scores of drug addicted fools for free. I wouldn't be constantly getting groped and propositioned to go back to stranger's hotel rooms for elderly threesomes or to try and steal my organs. No more doing 3 or 4 jobs that aren't the one I signed up for, for minimum wage plus tips (which can't be counted on).


I would just keep doing random gigs and find a way back to Japan for the test, then pursue anything solid when I got back. In the meantime, I would do as many auditions as I could, since I didn't have a main job to get in the way. Maybe after those commercials I could get some momentum going? Maybe when I got back from Japan I'd see if I was too old for Medical School …


Everyone's classic fall backs: Action Star or Doctor...
-NASH