REPORTING FROM ... THE WRESTLEMANIA XXIV PRESS CONFERENCE

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When he's not throwing $100 bills into the audience, Floyd likes to talk.

In case you haven't set your Tivo yet, WrestleMania XXIV is this Sunday. If you're a true wrestling fan, the headline is Edge vs. The Undertaker (The WrestleMania win streak is on the line!). If you're a casual fan or just someone looking for a spectacle, it's all about Floyd "Money" Mayweather, probably the greatest pound for pound boxer in the world (and former Mag cover boy), doing battle with The Big Show.

Holding court at the Hard Rock Café in Times Square yesterday, the blinged-out Mayweather was in fine form, tossing out hundred dollar bills into the air (a habit of his, seriously), sending reporters, photogs and fans scrambling for the cash.

Two boys in front, about 7 or 8, still pie-eyed from ogling the two WWE hotties who are slated to be taking part in the BunnyMania Lumberjack Match, dove for cover as adults acted like rabid raccoons battling for scraps in a landfill.

I grabbed for one of the bills, but wasn't quite quick enough. A security staffer from the Hard Rock grabbed the other end, we both pulled, and split the bill in half. My half had one and a half of Ben Franklin's eyes on it. Without the whole face, my bill was worth nothing.

No worries, I figured I'd save the torn Benjamin as a souvenir. But midway through the event, after Mayweather said his piece and hyped Sunday's pay-per-view show, the security staffer, a man by the name of John, approached me.

"Want to shoot for the other half of the bill?" he asked.

I thought about it, and told him that maybe we should get some scotch tape, put the bill back together and both share in the windfall. Then, I had a light bulb moment.

"How about we find someone who could really use the cash?" I said to John. "Why don't we go find a homeless person in Times Square and give them both pieces of the bill?"

John agreed with the plan, but said he'd need to ask his boss if he could slip away.

He returned in a bit, telling me me he was on duty and couldn't leave at the moment. I paused, and then handed him my half of the bill.

"Tell you what," I said. "If you're game, why don't you just find a homeless person when you get off work, and give 'em the money. Cool?"

"Sure," John said. "I'll do it. That's good of you, man, this will come back to you."

"You gotta promise me you'll do it," I said, staring deep into his eyes and soul, like Dubya assessing Putin.

"I will," he said simply.

I believe him. How can you doubt the moral compass of a Hard Rock security guard?

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