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My uncle, a retired Korean war era cholo later turned pastor, was a huge Michael P.S. Hayes mark in the 80s. He and his war buddy would go to the Sportatorium in Dallas and try out for their wrestling school as a tag team. I'm pretty sure the reason he's a pastor today is because of his ability to cut a good promo.
Anyway, one time during his wrestling ventures at the Sportatorium, he took a piss break and left his girlfriend at the time, my aunt by blood, in the lobby area / bar. During his time in the restroom a young Dustin Runnels took the opportunity to walk up to my aunt and drape his long arm over her shoulder, pretty much proclaiming her his rat of the night. Understand then the wrestlers were openly drinking with the patrons at the Sportatorium, as if it were an old West saloon. So my uncle comes back out of the room, walks up to Dustin who is huge in comparison, and tries to bring levity to the moment by saying something like, "Hey, man! That's my girl! What are you doing with your arm around my girl, man!" My uncle, at this time, was a cocaine abusing, older brother from La Bamba looking fella with the feathery hair of a Michael Hayes during that era, and his girl (again, my aunt) looked like his biker wench.
Dustin didn't want the smoke, he kept it moving, and my aunt was loving all of the attention because she was a hot piece of tail back in the day, but damn for a moment I had the potential for future WrestleMania tickets on lock. Or at least that's the way I like to look at it.
