Let me go back to the beginning.
I had my first brush with a celebrity and his family in the summer of 1997, not knowing that the day I visited their house would go down in infamy. Every mid-July since I was too young to remember, my family made our yearly pilgrimage down to Charlotte, North Carolina, to spend a week at my grandparents house along with my mother’s five siblings and their families. My grandparents have since moved to Dallas, Texas, and coincidentally 1997 was the last year in Charlotte. My grandparents lived in a rather wealthy subdivision, and we never tired of driving around the willow tree-lined block to look at various NBA player’s enormous plantation-type houses, especially Mugsey Boges and Alonzo Morning. However, it turned out that the most interesting celebrity of the block had just recently moved next door to them- Rick Flair, one of the bleached blond wrestlers of the WWF.
At the time, I knew next to nothing about this guy, other than what my grandmother told me on the phone a few days before we left. “Kayleigh, the Flair’s are very good neighbors, Rick is a wrestler on television, did you know that? I wanted to tell you that Rick has a daughter your age named Ashleigh, so when you get here she is very excited to meet you because she wants someone to hang around with. Doesn’t that sound so fun?” I didn’t have the heart to tell my grandmother that that sounded like hell, and something inside of me instantly filled with a nervous anxiety.
I treasured my once-a-year family reunion down in Charlotte, and I was not thrilled with the idea of having to spend part of it with a stranger. I was a very shy twelve year-old, my insecurities on the verge of spilling out at any moment in a pre-teen bout of emotion. I was a guy’s girl, the young tomboy who skinned her knees playing full-contact football, wore baggy pants, and had a plethora of guy friends. I was particularly distrustful of girls, and could count the number of my trustworthy female friends on one hand. I carefully chose my friends at home, and I usually was not out-going enough to engage myself with girls I had just met, let alone a celebrity’s daughter. The very idea of it weighed heavily on me, but I didn’t want to disappoint or upset my grandmother, who obviously had arranged for such a visit on my behalf. I had a lot of time to think during our 14 hour car drive, listening to my battered walkman and staring out the window only to be filled with a slight sense of dread when the Smokey Mountains appeared framed in my tinted pane of glass- we were almost there.
I loved my grandparent’s house. As our beat up brown minivan pulled into their immense horseshoe shaped driveway, my heart filled with joy and I temporarily forgot my obligation to the next-door neighbors. The weeping willow trees swayed in the Carolina wind, the air pregnant with the heavy promise of rain and pungent with the smell of exotic flowers of vibrant colors. The familiar red brick of the house welcomed me as Duffy their Irish Setter bounded out of the side pool gate, red hair dancing wildly as he picked up speed, and as usual he greeted me with muddy paw prints on my forearms and terse, deep barks. I followed Duffy through the side gate to investigate the source of loud laughter and the low murmur of adult voices coming from the back yard and pool deck.
My ten younger cousins had arrived before us and were already swimming and playing in the icy blue water. Oldies songs blasted from the paint splattered 1980’s radio in the pool house, and adults lounged on the yellow and white deck chairs as they sipped on sweating cans of Bud Light and instinctively tucked their feet up to avoid the scorching hot deck.
My grandma was in her usual matronly spot in the elevated screen porch, where she surveyed the pool activities as my grandpa read the newspaper indoors and smoked his cigars. I quickly pulled on my Speedo and plunged into the refreshing water among the splashing and games of water basketball. I claimed a few hours of freedom, relaxation, and diving in the pool, until my grandmother beckoned for me to towel off and join her in the kitchen. I had a phone call.
It turned out Ashleigh Flair had seen me arrive from an undisclosed location on her property and wanted to speak with me. My grandma extended the phone to me with a huge smile on her face. I reciprocated the smile, except mine was thin lipped. I cupped the phone with clammy hands and hastily swallowed.
“Hello?” I gingerly inquired.
“Hey! This is Ashleigh Flair from next door, the one your grandma told you about. You should come over right now!” the sugary sweet voice commanded.
I looked at my grandma, and she nodded with encouragement. I felt trapped.
“Um, okay,” I replied, “I will be right over.”
My self-conscious self quickly glimpsed my reflection in the hallway mirror and I scowled at my limp and wet lop-sided ponytail and faded t-shirt. I did not know what to expect of this girl but I didn’t have time to think about it. My grandma and mom showered me with last minute encouragements before they shut the heavy green front door behind me exclaiming that I should be so grateful that I could hang out with someone my age instead of all my younger cousins.
I had been instructed to go through the side gate and meet Ashleigh in her back yard. I cautiously breached her property line among the willows and flowers, thick blades of green grass tickling my toes until I was standing on the Flair’s front lawn, 300 yards away from where I longed to be. I felt like I was on another planet, and I was alone.
The Flair’s looming house was almost exactly like my grandparent’s brick for brick: it shared the same red façade with large windows with white plantation shutters, except the driveway was a long traditional one as opposed to the U-shaped one that I was used to. I trudged along the oil-stained driveway and walked through the wrought iron side gate. The first things I laid eyes on where two large separate buildings in her back yard, and a pool that was covered in a dingy tarp, leaves coating the surface.
I could faintly hear the sounds of my family members from next door, and I quickly became jealous of the muffled splashing and the reverberation of the diving board as one of my uncles did a cannonball. I thought of my family swimming, and laughing- the adults lounging as Duffy the dog ran circles around the pool deck. This backyard was uninviting, unused and forlorn- the pool covered in speckled shade, the lounge chairs covered in gossamer cobwebs. I then heard muffled footsteps behind me, and Ashleigh appeared.
She was a wiry girl with long bleached blond hair, designer faded jeans, and a pink tank top. She enthusiastically ran down her porch steps clutching two Siamese cats of a blue hue. I noticed they looked like they would give anything to escape.
“Hey, I’m Ashleigh, did ya’ll have a good trip down? I’ll show you around, I’m so glad you are here!”
I stared in amazement at this energy-filled human being, bewildered. As I tried to respond, Ashleigh cut me off and began giving me a whirlwind tour of her splendid life, and all I could do was tag along. Bewilderment was quickly replaced by awe as I realized just how different celebrity’s lives really are, although Ashleigh herself had a little too much personality for me to bear for a long period of time.
I figured that if I simply did what she wanted, I would be able to escape faster than if I engaged myself in conversation. She was unlike the girls back home, for she seemed like she could command and man a small army if she desired. Ashleigh was the type of girl that led the group, and didn’t take no for answer. I quickly realized that I was prepared to go along with her ideas and treat her with an air of slight worship, as not to upset her. I did not understand how to really deal with girls, so as my shyness kicked in, I let the Queen take over.
Ashleigh snapped me out of my contemplation and led me to one of the mini houses in her backyard, explaining to me that the entire thing, blue shutters and all, was her own personal “house.” I entered into the pink door frame and saw two bunk beds, a tiny kitchen complete with a functional sink, and a brand new television set.
“This is where I have sleepovers” Ashleigh proudly exclaimed, “My dad built it for me.”
I figured that it was best to just stand with a permanent smile on my face and nod with excitement. Deep down I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, that people really had things like this just for them. The items inside the house looked brand new, as if they had not gotten a lot of use. Her mini house seemed to be an immaculate shrine, something you admire, love, and take pride in but do not use. Before I could get a second glance, Ashleigh was skipping out the door.
Next, we toured the other building next to her house. The entire structure was filled with mirrors, plush foam flooring, and weight benches with large dumbbells and loud, aggressive rock and roll music blasted from unseen speakers.
“This is my dad’s personal gym, but I’m not allowed in here. If he catches us in here we are going to get in a lot of trouble,” Ashleigh sung seemingly without a care. That is when I realized that this girl did whatever she wanted, regardless of possible consequence. I suddenly felt like my life could somehow be put in danger while with this individual, especially since the idea of irritating a professional wrestler was not high on my list of priorities. I swallowed thickly and said, “Maybe we should get out of here,” as Ashleigh laughed and flipped her bright blond mane over her shoulder.
As we left the gym, three more Siamese cats scuttled across our paths as Ashleigh put down the two in her hands and they gratefully scampered off.
“I have twelve cats, and they all love me” Ashleigh said proudly, “Do you have any pets?”
I told her about my two goldfish at home, and this was greeted with a smug smile.
“Do you know what I do when my dad and my step-mom aren’t around? I put on my roller skates and skate over the pool tarp. Come on, let’s do it!”
I meekly told her that I couldn’t because I didn’t have any skates, but I should have realized that she would have multiple pairs, and of course we shared the same shoe size. Soon I found myself laced up in scuffed white roller skates, teetering precariously at the edge of the shallow end of the pool. “Go ahead! Go skate on it! Follow me!” I watched Ashleigh fearlessly skate onto the tarp, which sagged under her weight and water crept up to her mid-calves.
“Come on! Come here” Ashleigh bellowed. I felt compelled to listen to her, since I was more afraid of what would happen if I didn’t appease her as opposed to what could happen to me with the pool itself. Once I joined her on the tarp, I realized that Ashleigh probably had never experienced pool skating with more than one person.
The tarp rapidly sunk, and we were up to our waists in water. I slipped and fell, and was promptly soaked. Then, a deep male voice boomed out from the open kitchen window, “Ashleigh! What did I tell you about doing that? Get inside now before you rip the tarp again!”
“That’s my dad,” Ashleigh whispered gleefully, “We better go inside.”
Now I was officially terrified. We grabbed some beach towels that were hung over the porch balcony, toweled off, and entered the kitchen. The cats watched from a safe distance.
Rick Flair himself was waiting for us in the kitchen, bare-chested, with his tanned bulging arms crossed in an angry position. He wore gold Oakley sunglasses framed by his shoulder length white-blond hair, and his ivory mesh gym shorts were practically molded around his rippling leg muscles.
“Sorry Daddy, Kayleigh wanted to skate on the tarp so we did,” Ashleigh said, blinking her large blue eyes rapidly.
My mouth fell open in shock and horror, but thankfully Rick knew better. “Ashleigh, don’t be ridiculous. I’m sick of you doing this. I swear to God, you are going to be punished this time.”
Crocodile tears welled up in Ashleigh’s eyes as she screamed that she hated her father and ran upstairs in a childish rage and tore posters of her dad off of her bedroom wall. I turned slowly and gulped, because now I was alone with this 6 foot tall behemoth of a man.
Looking at me with angry eyes, Rick said, “Sorry about that…are you Jim and Kathy’s granddaughter?” He softened his voice, as if sensing my fear as he rummaged through the fridge. I nodded in reply, too nervous to speak as I shoveled the despised bowl of applesauce he provided into my mouth. Then, it happened.
Rick dropped the applesauce jar, jagged shards of glass and cream-colored mush instantly coated the floor as he cursed loudly and bolted for the garage door. In the same instant, Ashleigh screamed upstairs and tore down the stairs past me in a blur of pink, slamming the door behind her. My heart stopped in my chest, and time stood still as I jerked open the door and ran to follow the family to the source of the sound.
I squinted in the bright sunlight to find Ashleigh’s step mom clutching a smoking rifle, mascara tears streaming down her heavily done up face, creating rivers of foundation that dripped down to her coral pink lips. I anxiously looked around to see what she shot, and I noticed the splattered mess of patterned snakeskin that had exploded on the driveway that she shot at close range.
She was blubbering that she had been gardening, and that she looked up to find the dreadful snake staring her straight in the eyes. Rick had her wrapped in his arms, and soothed her with his voice as he rubbed her back.
Ashleigh's step mom looked at me over Rick’s broad shoulders while hyperventilating, with a look in her eyes that I did not recognize. Ashleigh poked the bloody mess with a stick, exclaiming how cool her step mom was for shooting it. I could not believe what I was seeing. This family was way too intense for me, with problems that at the age of twelve, I could not recognize or understand. My family members were now tearing across the lawn in frenetic concern. I sprinted towards them, and just kept running.
The rest of the visit somehow went smoothly, save for Ashleigh and her younger brother Reed who then took it upon themselves to come to my grandparents house every day for the rest of my visit. They drank all the good pop, ate all the Cheetos, and jumped off the diving board onto my uncles and dad so many times that they almost broke their backs. Oh, and they "accidentally" popped my favorite raft. But I'm not bitter.
Years later I would tell this story in my senior year college Travel Writing class, only to have someone excitedly inform me that they had recently read that Ashleigh had gotten a DUI. Woo hoo, celebrities! I guess the Flair's started taking lessons from the Hogans or something.
So the next time you are in a rather intimidating situation, ask yourself: is this scarier than being with a super-tall, long haired, bulging muscles, and [probably] juiced up professional wrestler who could strike you dead in an instant? And are you alone with them in a room with them staring you down? No? Then forgive me when I struggle to sympathize with you.
All hail the Power of the Flair!
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