For some reason Craig has a Samsung Galaxy Note 7 “phablet” and he is yet to send it back to be fixed. Effectively he has a WMD in his pants that were it to explode would blow his dick off. Obviously he would have to fit it into his front pocket first, but the threat remains. He’s not allowed have it on the airplane which makes him a pain to deal with for a long haul flight with Wi-Fi because he constantly wants everyone else’s phone. I just pretend I’m asleep for the entire thing so he doesn’t bother me.

 

If you have ever entered North America before you will know that US border control is difficult at the best of times. I’m gagging to make a joke about Craig’s phablet being a WMD waiting to go off, but I manage to maintain a modicum of maturity for 15 minutes.

 

We manage to make it through without any major issues and we decide a taxi is the best option to get us downtown. I am not going to lie, I nearly cried when he told me what we owed him but I just pretended I’m a high roller of the Conor McGregor category. Clearly I am not. The fact that McGregor has been roaming the streets of New York in a white Gucci mink-coat is high rolling. The price of a taxi ride shocking me, and McGregor actually wearing that coat serve to remind me of what I really am – a pilot getting paid less and less each year.

 

The vibe in New York is unexpected. I know the election result seems to have upset a couple of people, but given New York is Trump’s home town I was expecting him to be the king. How wrong I was.

 

We decide to go out for some food and in the midst of not having a clue what we are doing we wander into a protest. Craig whips out his phablet to record the madness and they start accusing him of being a Trump supporter. Before I know it I’m telling them to back off or the phablet might explode and burn their hipster beards into oblivion. They look at me like I’m crazy and then a sadness fills their eyes as they realise that the hipster beard is probably dead anyway. They look almost as upset about their beard-reality as the Trump stuff, but the diversion allows our escape.

 

We hit the Spotted Pig gastro pub for food and beer and it’s the best food I have had in a while. Dubai can kiss my ass on the food and beer front, New York is leagues ahead. Can’t go too wild though, we’ve got to save something for the next day.

 

Fight Day

 

It being the first time the UFC has been allowed to put on fights in NYC means the fight card is basically 7 hour long. I don’t want to spend the entire thing going to the toilet so I don’t indulge in beer before we get there. Once inside I realise that hydration would have been a good idea as it’s seven dollars a bottle of water. I replace water with beer and just get on board the unstoppable train that is UFC 205.

 

Most of the fights are pretty awesome and given we paid $1500 for our tickets we have a decent view. Which is good enough to see the blood fly out of Weidman’s head like an Icelandic geyser – without the monitors. When it comes to the title-fight McGregor makes short work of Alvarez.

 

It would have been nice to see the punches land in real time but when Craig’s phablet starts to get a little hot in his pants my attention is diverted. He’s standing there fighting to get it out of his pocket and I decide to take control and throw a full beer all over his crotch. He isn’t too happy about my actions, but his phablet didn’t explode and he’ll still be capable of reproduction so he can thank me later.

 

If you own a phablet this is the sort of uncool shit that can happen. Get a real phone.

 

LJ