Sorry wrong room -by,Kane Story taken from WWE book – Are We There Yet? (Buy it on Amazon)
When you are sitting around the arena all day, some nights you just can’t wait to get out of there when you are done. At one show, I was in the last match but knew that after the bell there was going to be a run-in on my opponent by the guy he was feuding with at that time. They were set to go at it for a few minutes after I left the ring. I knew I wanted to beat the fans out of the arena so I wouldn’t sit in traffic for an hour; these few minutes were my only hope.
I ran back to the locker room and didn’t shower or anything. I just threw on my workout stuff from that afternoon – shorts, a tank-top and sneakers. I didn’t even put on socks. As I am sprinting to the car, I realize I still had my make-up on, too. I didn’t care. The only thing on my mind was getting out of the arena parking lot and to the hotel immediately.The weird looks started the moment I enter the lobby. I am dripping with sweat, wearing wrinkled workout clothes, and had half my long hair pulled back in a ponytail, half hanging in my face. Between my hair and the eyeliner I was still wearing, I basically looked like the world’s largest transvestite.
I checked in, ripped open the door, threw my bag in and then noticed an old couple sitting on the bed. I had no idea, where they came from. They started screaming at me in some foreign language that I couldn’t understand.
I just….I mean…I had already put in a real long day, so I just sort of stared at them, cussing under my breath. Not at them. But at the situation.They are screaming, just terrified. They both jumped up on the bed and were now like hugging each other as if they were saying good-bye or something. By the time I got back down to the front desk, the clerk was already on the phone with this couple apologizing, telling them he was going to give them a free lunch and stuff.
I think they saw their life flash in front of their eyes at that moment, and I can’t say I blame them. Think about it, if you can imagine a seven-foot, three-hundred- pound guy, wearing mascara, slamming your door open….that’s a pretty scary sight.