NIGHT OF RECKONING IV

Shooting the fights is always a pleasure, but shooting fights for Empire Fight Championships, especially the last 3 fight nights, was extraordinary! The atmosphere is electric, the next bout is always better than the last and the people are some of the most interesting I've ever met. Saturday, October 9 was no exception. With 11 bouts on the fight card, there was no stoppage of excitement on this night.
It all culminated in the Main Event of the night. Two of the toughest fighters I've ever seen stepped into the cage for five-5 minute rounds of brutal punishment. Zach Underwood and Austin Lyons have my ultimate respect for what was no doubt the greatest match in Empire's history and perhaps one of the best in regional MMA action. In the end, the fight came down to a split decision. I'm not an MMA expert, I'm just the photographer. But I am truly glad I did not have the burden of scoring this one! And regardless of the outcome, both fighters demand respect and fought like Champions.
Kudos to David Ferguson, the match-maker, who has outdone himself each of the last three fight cards. The real question for David is, "how ya gonna top this?" But I know, somehow, he will.

Tower of London

Where to begin? I have to say the Tower of London was one of the most unique places I have ever been to. William the Conqueror first built the White Tower over Roman ruins in 1078.
Amazing as it is, death seems to be a recurring theme on my trip. As peaceful as Pere Lachaise was, the Tower was its opposite; haunting and disturbing. Not to say I didn't enjoy it. I did, immensely! But it shocks me at the sheer "matter of fact" the British are about the horrors committed by those whom they hold so dear. In the Tower, tales of murder and torture and dismemberment are not one hundred yards away from the Crown Jewels. Yes, the actual Crown Jewels! Queen Ann Boleyn was murdered here by King Henry VIII. Not for any real reason other than he grew tired of her. He had one of his best friends and closest advisers, Thomas More, murdered here as well. They both entered the Tower through the arch shown in the bottom left corner of the picture. Children where murdered here, clergy, poets, all in the name of power. Most people held as prisoners at the Tower where actually murdered just down the street. The Guy Fawkes was tortured here and the more I learn about Guy, the more I wished his plan would have worked. I saw Walter Raleigh's room (um, prison cell) too. Sir walt holds the distinction of being held here on three separate occasions. As grotesque as the stories of intrigue are, the opulence of the royals here is equally unnerving. Some of the biggest jewels on the face of the Earth, stolen from all corners of the world to give to certain people just because they were born. And because they were born they could discretely murder or imprison anyone they saw fit.
The Beef-Eaters were a friendly bunch. And there where several costumed actors interacting with the crowds. But by the end of my tour here, I felt as though my feet had been tortured. Looking down at my iPhone I noticed that I had been at the Tower for 7 hours. Time flies by when you're having fun . . . or a last meal.

Mr. Mojo Risin . . .

Pere Lachaise Cemetery was perhaps the most peaceful place I've ever been and the home to more than a million famously dead people. Jim Morrison (pictured above) is one. With rabid cultist Doors fans, I being one but not as much as some, defacing tombs showing which way to Jim, the cemetery has installed gates and a permanent guard at the Lizard King's grave. When said guard turned his head, it gave me the opportunity to steal a stone for my middle son's rock collection. The highlights of my tour here included Marcel Marceau, Frederich Chopin, Sarah Bernhardt and Oscar Wilde. Oscar's grave stood out as unique. A modern art tomb surrounded by Gothic structures it was easy to point out. That and the thousands of female lipstick kisses that adorned the facade. As the line in that Smith's song goes, "Let's go where we're happy, and I'll meet you at the Cemetery gates. Keats and Yeats are on your side, while Wilde is on mine." I have never been so happy surrounded by so many dead. That's the real magic of this place. Reverence and joy. "With love and hate and passions just like mine, they were born and then they lived and then they died."

The Louvre

Let's face it...outdoor sculptures are just made to be crapped on. Do you really think the artist had this in mind when he constructed this beautiful marble statue? Well, look at the expression. I say 160 years ago, the sculptor understood this.
What can I say about the Louvre? I am not qualified to speak on the artistic merit of what is in the place, but the historical value of one, any piece is PRICELESS! I mean, my IQ jumped 25 points just walking into the joint, effectively doubling it! I don't know what makes the Mona Lisa the Louvre's crown jewel and then this poor bastard's work gets to sit in the garden to get baptized by flying rats.
That being said, the Louvre is an extraordinary place. Ancient art dating back 7000 plus years, countless romance era statues, Egyptian art, baroque paintings from every corner of the world slowly being destroyed by the tourists' camera flashes. They ignore the warnings and the French, who are caretakers of this priceless history, fail to stop them. That's when yours truly began to get ugly. Yep, the ugly American had to be the bad guy. "STOP THE FLASH!" I screamed over, and over and over again. I won't tell you how ugly it got, but if this IS my ugly American moment . . . I feel pretty okay about it.

Can't wait to take my wife here . . . but not my boys . . . they don't make insurance policies that high.

Ah, the Champs- Élysées!

Ah, the Champs- Élysées! Filled with the tres chic, the heroine induced dieters, the wealthy, the powerful, the all-too-familiar-stuck-out-like-a-thumb tourist, and at least one southern redneck! Walking this famous of all Parisian streets sends waves of aromas to the sinuses; expensive perfumes, wines & champagnes, et . . . le horse pucky. But nonetheless an impressive sight to behold. In a nation of public transport, lines stretching around the block for the free clinic and a penchant for free love in the public parks (which explains the free clinic) it's nice to see unabashed capitalism at its best.
I sat the the Vensuvio in the shadow of the Arc de Triomphe. In my best French accent I ordered "Je voudrais l'eau, une verre de Bordeaux, et le pasta funghi pachini." The waiter responded, "Okay, thank you." I reek of American! Even when I try to speak the native tongue, the locals fail to oblige me. That is except for the metro employees. "No Anglaise!" and as I look down in disgust while trying to get help with the metro, I think I heard, "now move on, American . . . " something about a merde de la tete. Anyways, the wine and mushroom pasta was a warm welcome, but sharing a table with a group of old Italian wiseguys was an unexpected bonus. C'est la vie!

Tour d'Eiffel

Funny how life seems to go in circles, huh? I climbed the Eiffel Tower with two young, Russian couples. They seemed to warm up to me once I assured them that, in fact, I was NOT a member of the Spetsnaz and that the patch on the camera bag was just "added security". They were from Rostov, which in Russian terms is a hop, skip and a jump from the Saratov Oblast. They seemed genuinely interested in my Russian boys and our story of their adoption.
Anyway, the Eiffel Tower was tres cool. Except for the chaffing of my inner thighs which became all too apparent on the 1500th step or so. Thanks goes out to the wife for making pack my euro-stylish spandex bike shorts. They will come in handy in the morning roaming Pere Lachaise.

London, dreary London. Is this the home of the free, or what?.

Paddington Station

Well . . . people are not at all helpful. But I did manage to find an American living in Hong Kong, who traveled to London from Moscow. And since he apparently knew what he was doing, I followed him out of Heathrow airport. Now in Paris, via the Eurostar, and found Paris beautiful. But not so helpful either. Although my hotel is small, it is centrally located between the Louvre, le isl de le cite and musee d'Orsay. Mon Francais est tres mal, et je ne comprend pas (much). But I'm getting the hang of it. Now for the greatest adventure yet, trying to figure out the metro system. Mon Dieu!!!!