Oslo Spring

   It was a Saturday evening and on into a late night, early into spring time. My wife was going into Oslo for a girl's night of drinking and dancing with her friend Camilla. I went along only as the designated driver. The night for me was a sober one but far from dull. Elin and I had parked our car near the old fort and met up with Camilla in the center on Karl Johans Gate just around 6P.M. From this point in the evening the two of them went off to do their own thing, and I did the same - taking off on my skateboard to cruise the city. I only skated around for a couple of hours sticking mainly to spots around the Aker Brygge district. This part of the night was pretty much calm. The real excitement came when I decided to cruise back to the car and trade my board for my camera, and head back out into the city on foot to do some shooting. By now the sun was finally starting to set - twilight was coming on and the night air was getting cooler with slight breezes. I walked the city blocks snapping photos in random alley ways, narrow streets, graffiti, old buildings, everything and anything in all my old style. I was still in the Aker Brygge area, the night air was getting colder so I put my hood of my sweatshirt up over my head, as I was setting up a shot a voice from behind me asked the question if I knew what my future held. I turned around to meet Christopher, he was from Australia. At first glance I thought he was some dirty bum - well he may have been homeless but as my eyes re-adjusted under the yellowish-orange street lights and from looking through a camera, I noticed he was pretty well dressed. He was carrying a few plastic grocery bags filled with day old rolls that he said he got from a manager at a Seven Eleven store. He said he was walking around the city handing them out to homeless people. As he handed me one of the rolls, I thought I was in for possibly some deep philosophical discussion - in which I was kind of looking forward to. I sometimes dig random conversations with random folks. But Christopher turned out to be just another born-again christian spouting off how everyone should be born again, and that it's the only way to be saved - to live. I ended up getting wrapped up in the conversation for about an hour. I kept checking the time on my cell phone telling him I had to meet back up with my wife and her friend around 10P.M. - which it was just a few minutes after. He wanted to walk with me but I told him I was going the opposite direction. We shook hands and he gave me another roll to eat. As I took off down the street and went around the corner, I tossed the roll and my phone rang at the same time. It was Elin just checking up on me to make sure I wasn't too bored. By now I was getting a bit cold and decided to go back to the car to take a nap with the heater on to warm myself back up. I had to walk past some hookers to get back to the car. I kept my hood up and stayed to the far right side of the sidewalk to try to slip by un-noticed, but it didn't work out that way. The hooker grabbed my arm and asked if I wanted sex. I told her I only spoke English and I also told her no. As I started to walk away she said something to her other two hooker friends and the three of them started laughing at me. I just continued on back to the car to warm up and take a nap. I layed the driver's seat back with the radio and heat on and went to sleep. I was awakened by a tapping on the window, I sat up and rolled the window down to be face to face with a woman who seemed to be in her forties and quite normally dressed in a sweater, ankle length dress, and a nice hat. She looked like she could be your mom or something and not a hooker as she turned out to be. She asked me if I was waiting or looking for someone like her. I told her no and that I was waiting for my wife. I laid back in the seat again to rest. About twenty minutes later I slightly sat up and looked out the window to the right, and on the sidewalk about twenty or thirty feet away from the car that same hooker who tapped on my window was talking to some older, bald, heavy-set guy. It seemed she found a taker. He pulled her ankle length skirt all the way up and felt her up. She stuck her hand down his pants and did the same to him. As they walked past the car, down the sidewalk to go handle their business, he again pulled up her skirt and stuck his hand in her ass. A few minutes after they walked past the car, another hooker walked by and crossed the street taking her spot on the sidewalk behind me - to the left. Another short while later she caught herself a young gent in search of a "date", and just as they started to walk off, the older hooker and bald guy came walking up the sidewalk back in my direction. The bald guy crossed the street and took off. At the same moment as the hooker was walking up the sidewalk, some young guy drove up - parking his Volvo wagon two spaces away from my car on the driver's side, right as he parked the hooker opened the passenger door and started to get in his car, asking the same question she asked me - are you looking for someone like me? His voice raised up and he told her to get the hell out of his car. She shut the door and took off down the sidewalk again.

   By now it was some time around 11:30P.M. and just as I was laying back in the driver's seat again, I got a text message on my phone from Elin begging me to come save her. She and Camilla had ended up in some high class bar called Emil and Samuel at some private party. She said Camilla was wasted and dancing alone to really bad House-Techno - (dancing alone as in she was the only one on the dance floor). I took off from the car running through the streets of Oslo. I had gotten another text message from Elin telling me what street the bar was on, but when I got to the street the address was non-existent. I stood outside of one building that I could hear loud pounding bass coming from inside, but there was no line of people waiting to get in and the only door I could see was locked. As I ran up and down the street I tried to call her back but got no answer. I continued to call and send text messages while I still tried to find the bar. Some immigrant panhandler asked me for some money, and when I told him I was broke, he said to me, "I know you got something." Then he started to come after me. He was a big dude and I thought I was in for an ass beating. I just kept going my own way and got out of there. A few moments later another immigrant dude walked up to me and asked if I knew where I could get some hash or weed. I smart-assed replied that I wish I knew, then he grabbed my arm and told me to go with him and he could get me some good stuff - just as I pulled free and told him no, that I was good, Elin called me back. As I answered the call and took off running, that dude was yelling for me to follow him to go get the hash. I finally met back up with Elin in the street and she led the way back to the bar. The bar wasn't even on the street she told me - it was actually just around the corner and about half a block up. Camilla was still in the bar and by now there was a cover charge and a dress code. Elin had to send a few text messages and we had to wait quite some minutes before Camilla finally came out. She was really wasted. Elin and I had to be on either side of her, holding her arms helping her walk - fast - getting her to the train station. We didn't make it on time. Camilla had missed the last train of the night out of Oslo to Lillestrom. Now the three of us had to walk quite a long way through the city - back to where the car was parked near the old fort.

   After we brought Camilla home, it was some time around 4A.M. when Elin and I made it home ourselves. We hit the bed - falling asleep immediately.

Sleezy in Florida

   Every winter holiday my good friend Matt from the Sleezy skates crew in Ohio comes down to Tampa for a spell. It's been this way for the past eight years. Except this year's trip wasn't going to happen - or so I thought. Matt called me the beginning of December informing me that he was going to make his winter holidays out west in San Diego. I knew he had never been out to Cali, so I told him to go and have a great crazy adventure. Only the kind of adventure Matt is well known to have. He made it two weeks, spent the third week - and new year's out in Las Vegas, then back to San Diego where his travels went sour. A turn for the bad and Matt was over it. I got an e-mail from him, telling me how he was buckin' on S.D. and wanted to catch a flight back to Florida - back to Tampa. He flew to the east coast, into West Palm. His folks were already in town over that way. I was headed east on State Road 60, through small anonymous towns, country - cow fields and randomness. I had a few hours to drive. When I pulled into the hotel, there was good old Matt skating the curb - doing slappies - on a board shaped like a churchkey. Right as I steered my truck into the parking lot, Matt looked over his shoulder at me with a crazy grin and barged a nice frontside fifty-fifty slappy, and continued - skating off to lead the way to the room. I cruised my truck slow, window down with my arm hanging out while Matt led the way skating, doing little ollies and power slides along the way. Other guests at the hotel who saw this gave snobbish looks. Of course it didn't matter to us. Once in the hotel room we had a short - good conversation with his folks. We gave hugs and made our way onto interstate 95 north.

   This winter's trek became a vacation for a few of the Sleezy guys. Matt and I were now on our way to Sanford. We were meeting up with Zack and his girlfriend Ally, they were Matt's friends from Athens Ohio. Zack and Ally had a twenty-five foot camper trailer set up at the Wekiva Falls RV park. This was to be our base camp for our adventures which took place four consecutive weekends over a month's time. It was a Friday, we met up with Zack and a Sanford local he randomly met named Brandon, at a Tropical Smoothie cafe where Ally was working. After some smoothies, the four of us hopped in Ally's jeep with Zack driving and back onto I-4 east to Daytona. Within a half an hour we were at the Daytona skatepark. Skating was done and photos were taken. On the way back to the camper life in Sanford we stopped at a grocery store for grilling supplies - food and beer.

   The next day Zack, Matt, and I took off in my truck and went to Altamonte Springs to skate the Maitland brick quarter pipes. One more afternoon of schralping and photos shot. Later that Saturday evening we found ourselves back on the east coast in Daytona at my friend Will's house, which is also a non-profit artist academy. They were having a grand opening art show. Will took us on a tour of the house, we had conversations, drank beer and wine, ate sushi, and checked out the artwork. On Sunday we all had a late morning rise at the campground in Sanford. That afternoon we stayed in the Orlando area, ending up at this house called The Trails. A crew of BMXers lives there. The front yard of the house is a track with dirt jumps, the back yard has a mini ramp with a couple of hips, and a quarter pipe wallride on the side of a shed. There was also a big lake out back. Matt and Zack labeled this place Biketopia - the BMX version of Skatopia. The guys at The Trails were real cool with us skating the mini ramp. Another good session with new friends and lots of beer. That night Zack, Ally, Matt, and I once again headed to the east coast to St. Augustine. We went to some small dive bar to see an all fem punk band - Rag Rage. The bass player, Meg, was another old friend of theirs from Ohio. We all drank and raged hard and I shot a few photos. At the end of the weekend Matt and I were on our way back west to Tampa. During the weekdays we had sessions with LBK and Robert out at Wauchula skatepark, the New Tampa park, and Fish Hawk park. The nights were filled with films, beer, skate videos, conversations, and music.

   By the second weekend Henry was now down in Sanford, staying with Zack and Ally in the camper. Matt and I got an early jump on this weekend, leaving just before 8P.M. on a Thursday night. Round two - back to the camper life at Wekiva Falls in Sanford. About two hours later, around 10P.M. my dusty old well traveled truck was pulling up - in front of Ally's camper. As we unloaded our gear from the cab of my truck, Henry came around from the back of the camper to greet us. I hadn't seen good old boy Henry in about three years. I grabbed him and put him in a headlock. Zack loaded the grill with the charcoal and lighter fluid and fired it up. We drank Busch, shared crazy great stories, Henry rolled up cigarettes, while Ally cut Matt's hair - giving him a wide-fat mohawk by candle light. We all drank and talked late into the night, watching big gray clouds blow in fast over head, and the wind started to pick up. Matt very drunken and half assed set up my tent for his sleeping quarters. The damned thing was leaning over. Ally, Zack, and Henry went inside the camper and I watched the lights go off. I took an old blanket I had out of the cab of my truck and laid it out in the bed of my pick-up. I had no pillow, just the blanket and the old flannel Henry gave me and a hooded sweatshirt with a t-shirt underneath. The wind gusts continued on with the clouds still blowing in. I was lucky I didn't get rained on. I awoke on Friday morning to Henry yelling, "he's over here, asleep in the back of the truck!" I rolled over, pulling the hood off my head, looking skyward to a nice gray clouded sky. Zack, Henry, Matt, and I took Zack's dogs, Brutus and Butter; for a short hike on a trail along the river there. We loaded up Zack's four door Camry with our gear and the dogs, and headed for the New Smyrna skatepark. The day stayed cloud filled. When we got to the park, the four of us barged the small shack of a pro-shop, told the kid working behind the counter that we all had been there before so we skipped out on signing any paperwork. Helmets were required at this park, Zack and Henry wore their construction hardhats. The Sleezy guys know how to hold down a gnarly, crazy-fun, live skate session. Dogs, beer, schralping, and of course jams. Henry had a heavy duty Dewalt ghettoblaster with Zack's Ipod playing DJ. Loud fast crusty Punk to Country! Barge and take no prisoners. We had a good afternoon session for a couple of hours, but the sky had to finally open up and let loose, pouring on us. Rained out. We stuck around. The showers were soon over but any chance the sun would show, a cloud would just blow over and block it again. The park wasn't drying. We decided to split and yet again make our way to the Daytona park. As we pulled out of the grass and dirt parking lot, I saw a jeep parked across the lot and a few of my Skatepark of Tampa mates hopped out. Zack pulled up next to the jeep and we chatted with Frosty and Dillow. They all had just come from the Daytona park. Frosty said it was real crowded. On the way to Daytona, we hit up a grocery store where Matt and Zack did a dumpster dive, and we came up on three big boxes of day old baked goods - breads and pastries still in sealed packages. When we got to the Daytona park it was dry and not too crowded. Each of us downed a beer in the parking lot, eating pastries, then grabbed the Dewalt radio and went into the park. This was too good of a session, so I chose to skate and not shoot any photos. Schralping was done. I even took quite a few cruise lines in the bowl.

   On the third weekend, Zack and Henry came over to Tampa. Saturday night we went up to Ghetto in Zephyrhills and had a good session with Jimmy the Greek and Charlie Crank from Murder Ride Skateboards. Sunday was another cold, cloudy day and we met up with the Lazy Sundays crew at the Bro-Bowl in downtown Tampa. When the fourth weekend came, Henry had already split back up to Ohio, trading places with Amber. Now she was in Sanford staying at the camper. Friday; Zack, Ally, Matt, Amber, and I, with the two dogs packed into Zack's car and headed to New Smyrna again but the rains came even before we got to the park. Once again we ended up in Daytona, but this time at Stone Edge skatepark. The rain didn't let up so the four of us along with Ricky Burns and Barnes ended up going to some dive bar where the beer was cheap and the bartenders danced naked on the bar. I woke up feeling rough, we all had another late morning rise that Saturday. The late morning was gray and dreary with big gusts of wind. We weren't sure if or when it would rain, ending our day. Yet we stuck to our plan to go skate. And again onto I-4 east, our journey that Saturday was to Deltona. A mid afternoon meet up with Barnes and some of his friends also from out of town. The spot was known as the Fiber Rider. It was really in the middle of nowhere off a dirt road. The Fiber Rider was this fiberglass race track sort of thing, kind of like a Hotwheels track for skateboards. It was built in the 1970's and it was made for skateboarding. Also on the property was a huge, above ground [on a hill] cement clover bowl, and another smaller bowl that reminded me of a mini Lula bowl at Skatopia. But before we had our sessions there was work to be done. A crew of guys were doing concrete work on the smaller bowl. Just as it is at Skatopia in Ohio, if you plan to skate, you better put in some work. Matt and I lugged 80 pound bags of cement, and Zack and Amber got in some actual concrete work. Between the work, Ally and I got in some photos. Lots of beer was drank by everyone and we had great sessions till the sun went down. This would be my last trip back to the camper life. That Saturday night I would be on my way back to Tampa, and the following weekend the four of them would be off to Nashville Tennessee to go see Hank Williams III.

Daytona

Intro-set up:

   A few days after Christmas and just after Mike and I moved into our townhouse, I had to head out a couple of hours on the busy highway east to Daytona. It was a Tuesday afternoon. I was back on the job - shooting skate photos and this time it really was going to be real work. I was going to shoot for an ad for my friends and their skateboard company. I decided to once again take on this assignment just as Hunter would. It wasn't just going to be a photo deal, I was going to make it a story.

   I left my new townhouse around 1P.M. On the highway passing in and out of traffick, semi-trucks and holiday travelers. I made good time getting into Orlando, with an hour stop off to grab a meal at a vegan Japanese spot. Back on the interstate with forty-five minutes till I found myself in Daytona. Just after 5P.M. I pulled up in front of Will's house. I unloaded my camera gear, laptop bag, and backpack from the car, carried it into the mostly empty guest room at the front of the house and Will gave me the grand tour of the place. For the most part, the start of the evening wasn't really so eventful. We just lurked about the house. It was dark now. 

   We drove Will's big work van up to the skatepark so he could show me what I had to work with for shooting on Wednesday. We strolled about the park, then ended up at this small bar that was just a couple of blocks - skating distance - from the park. The place was called Walden's. It was an old gas station from the 1950's or 60's - converted into the bar. It really was one of those locals only type of places but Will and I held in there. Cash was jamming away on the jukebox and we ordered a couple pitchers of Amber Bock. We sat at the bar drinking our brews, and talked with the bartender Tammy, and an old local named Mike. He was an old school tattoo artist with a long full haggard gray beard, a pirate skull tat on the back of his right hand and on the back of his left hand was a portrait of Charles Manson - swastika and all. Behind the bar was an old black and white photo of the Ku Klux Klan. The bathrooms of course had the standard shitty scribbled graffiti all over the place, but I got hyped when I saw a piece that read - "Meigs County Bitches! (Ohio)." Hell yea, I thought to myself, Damn Matt would dig this little spot - maybe. Will and I wandered about the small bar and outside checking out all the random shitty scribblings and other odds and ends. There were old gas pumps from that era still outside and the old crosswalk sign was attached to the station above the pumps. There were two big old heavy wooden doors to go in and out of the bar - one in front and the other on the side. As the night went on, these two gorillas of men crashed loudly into the bar - one with a gnarled scraggly mullet and the other with a horrible mohawk/mullet. These two were loud mouthed and not to be reckoned with. Mr. Mullet-head tried to sell us weed - a joint for five bucks and on another trek to the bathroom - while I was pissing, the other dude with the mohawk came in and was crushing up pills to snort. Will and I got out of there shortly after. On the way back to the house we hit up a gas station for more beer. We stayed up till around 4A.M. drinking and talking.

   Wednesday morning sometime between 10 and 11A.M. Will's room mate Constance got us up with a breakfast of fresh juicy strawberries. In the afternoon Will and I went over to the new Daytona skatepark to handle our business of getting skate photos done for his magazine ad. We finished out the day's sunlight, saw an amazing sunset at a good cement skatepark by the water, and continued into that Wednesday night. I unfortunately had the problem of my flash batteries dying out on me and the lights at the skatepark just barely supplied enough light to get the photos done. Yet we did. At the end of the session I left with a couple hundred shots and Will left with a nice gashed, bloody ankle. We left the skatepark, got more beer and went back to the house. I set up my laptop in Will's room with the camera connected transferring the photos from one digital media to another. I sat in a chair and Will, Constance, and her boyfriend Tim sprawled across Will's bed. We talked, drank beer, and smoked a joint. We called it an earlier night that Wednesday. Just past 1A.M. we all went to bed. 

   We all slept in. Another late morning rising on Thursday - it was new year's eve day. We all had work to do. Will and I had our laptops set up on a desk in Constance's office and she took the other office on the other end of the room. I had photos to edit. We worked until mid afternoon then Will and I headed back out to take care of more photos. We went to the legendary Stone Edge skatepark. This is when I discovered an old friend of mine, Ricky Burns, is running the park. He was closing the park early to have a new year's eve sesh equipped with firing up the grill and drinking some brews. A few other old friends also from out of town showed up - John Paul and Ben from St.Pete, Mike Barnes and a few other Daytona locals were in attendance. The stereo blasted jams for the ripping in the wooden bowl, and another batch of sequences to edit. Back at Will's it was time to shower and clean up for a new year's eve night on the town. We ended up down at the main street block party. The street was blocked off from traffick, different stages with different bands were set up outside of bars in the parking lots and in the street. There were folks from all age ranges, tourists, bikers, etc. Outside of some over trendy tourist 1950's style diner and bar, Will and I sipped our brews, laughing and commenting on the crowd line dancing in the street to Soulja Boy. Our jeering of the crowd drew the attention of some bald biker dude, he came over to us telling us his wife was out there dancing. That made no difference to me and Will. He kept staring at us and circling like a shark plotting his attack. He walked back over to us, asking us why we weren't out there dancing, then he called us gay for not dancing with the crowd. Everytime Will and I would walk around and move, he would follow, staring at us, giving the evil eye. Finally his wife left the line dance to pull her husband away from us. By now it was after 1A.M. and the night's sky grew gray with clouds which opened up letting loose the pouring rain. We had to run in the new year cold night rain about a block or so back to this other bar, Froggy's. Soon after we were in Froggy's drying out and drinking, another fight broke out. We watched some biker looking guy get dragged out into the street and get bloodied up real good. The cops and security took chase. Games of billiards played on and I watched some blonde broad make out with four different dudes and one girl - all over the bar at random times as the night went on. A bit after 2A.M. Constance and Tim met us at Froggy's, we ordered a fresh round of brews, then Will got a text message from their room mate Country, a drunk driver had slammed into Will's big work van which was parked in front of the house. They hit the van so hard it got pushed into Country's Pathfinder - which ended up pushed into the driveway. Will's van and Country's Pathfinder made it through with only some damages and both were still driveable. The drunk driver's Mitsubishi however was totaled and he was hauled off in the back of a police car. At this point we all were glad the night was finally over. I looked at the clock on my cell phone, 5A.M. - I laid down and was out immediately. 

   I was the first one up on Friday - new year's day, another late morning rise - at least it was still before noon. It was cold, gray, and still pouring rain outside. Once again I set my gear up on the desk in Constance's office to transfer the new year's eve Stone Edge photos over to the laptop. By now Will and Constance were up. We sat around the living room talking, then I loaded up my gear into the car readying myself for the two and a half hour drive home to Tampa. I left Will's around 2P.M. and got back on that rain soaked interstate back west.

Thirteen Hours at the Bro-Bowl

   Thirteen hours of shooting time lapsed photos at the Bro-Bowl in downtown Tampa with Lance. That is how I spent one summer Sunday in August 2009. From sunrise just around 7A.M. until sunset just after 8P.M. Lance had set our shooting location just off to one side of the bowl, under some large trees, parallel to the snakerun that led into the bowl - just before the end of the run using a wide angle lens shot looking straight down to view the entire bowl. There we sat, on our skateboards - on the tree roots with our cameras on their tripods, watching the sunrise over the old graffiti splattered worn cement bowl, including the city scape off behind us to the right. I had only four hours of sleep and I knew the day was going to be long and slow. I knew we would see action - just didn't know when or what kind of action the day would bring. The sunrise at the bowl with the city in the background was amazing. I knew no matter, it was to be a good day.

   After the first hour or so there, the itch to skate was kicking in for the both of us. So Lance and I started taking turns cruising about the bowl. Blasting early morning down the snakerun, carving the walls of the bowl up around the few puddles which remained from the previous days rain storms. And even on this Sunday - the threat of rain would again show. Dark blue-gray rolling clouds would pass us over head throughout the day. We would hear great bellied laughter, rumbling of thunder off in the distance over the city. But only drizzles of sprinkles came. No heavy rains this day. Some time about half past 8A.M. (I think), maybe an hour or so later, I slipped out on a move and my board rolled, fully submerged into the biggest, deepest puddle in the bowl. End of the day, at the beginning of the day.

   The morning moved slow. The clouds passed quickly over the city. When they would break to free the sky, the bowl would brighten up with an inviting glow - come schralp! Cruise. Ah yes, as I've said many times, city streets - cruise, four wheels and a wooden plank, an absolute freedom only a great few truly understand. As the morning continued and the warmth of the day krept on, the bum sleeping under the roof of the old unused locked up bathrooms awoke but stayed in the shade of the roof. He stayed under that rooftop for most of the morning before moving on to nowhere. Another bum came along collecting aluminium cans to recycle and make a small bit of money. Lance and I swapped good mornings with the kind sir and we all smiled and wished good spirits, good journies.

   Still later on into this long Sunday morn, as bums and random couples stroll by, another photographer, his assistant, and their model - a blonde chick with an Element deck showed up for their little photo shoot in the bowl. As random or odd as it may seem - a model photo shoot in the Bro-Bowl isn't so uncommon these days. This type of thing has actually been happening off and on for sometime now. They were done and gone within ten minutes. From late morning to early afternoon few random folks came and went. Short stays, lingering cruise lines around the bowl, over head passing clouds with drizzle break way to let the sun through to finish drying the puddles.

   At some point in the slow warm late morning I fell asleep on the sidewalk that runs down alongside the snakerun, across from Lance where the cameras were set up. I slept Dharma bum style for a half an hour or so - according to Lance. It was only early into the afternoon, and we knew Robert and Shannon still wouldn't be coming for a couple of hours. Hunger was starting to come on. I had a taste for Chinese, some white rice with vegetables and tofu. Lance was keen on the idea of Chinese as well. Another hour or so and we made a phone call to Robert to pick up the Chinese food. We still had yet another hour or so before Robert and Shannon and the food would arrive, so I went ahead on to a local grocery store and bought a gallon of green tea with honey and a bag of unsalted blue corn chips with jalepeno hummus.

   By the middle of the afternoon and later on, the session livened up with the arrivals of Robert and Shannon, Tre, Kevin, Tim, Sean, a brief appearance from LBK, and the event of three cars getting broken into. The clouds broke away for the last time and opened the sky to the sun. The day got warmer with nice refreshing breezes passing through the city. Just as I did in the late morning, I had an afternoon sleep on that same sidewalk along the snakerun. Another half hour or so. Wake up, guzzle some green tea, grab the skateboard and cruise fast. Then it's back to my post at the cameras. Just a little more than a few hours to go. With a day this long at the bowl, you would think one wouldn't make it without beer or weed. I had no weed and only drank two beers the whole day. I had no cravings or desire for any of it really. It felt good that way.

   Evening was now creeping in, the sun hung low in the sky. The evening rays peered through - between the buildings out to the bowl. The crowd of friends and others started to thin out now, but as for me and Lance, we still had a couple of hours or so. For us the day would not be done until full sunset - dark. And just as that Sunday morning, the evening moved on slow.

Tallahassee

   I got off work on a Tuesday evening at 7P.M., with my truck already packed with my full stock of gear, I headed back east a bit into the suburbs of Bloomingdale to pick up Josh. We loaded up his gear and started our trek to north Florida. First I had to gas up the truck and Josh wanted to grab a quick meal. When we hit the gas station, Josh ran across the parking lot to a burger joint. After I gassed up the Ranger and picked up a couple of "tall boys" and apples for the road, I ran over to meet him. As we waited for his food, we took notice that besides us there was only three other people inside the place. Behind us to the left was some high school couple - a boy and a girl - they were dressed as if they were on some prom night, high class dinner date or some jazz. A fancy table cloth was draped over with lit candles and they had wine glasses filled with nothing more than sparkling cider. To hell with that! Give me the real wine. Behind us to the right, across the dinning area was some older guy holding a video camera, filming the high school couple. Josh and I agreed to the conclusion he could be one of their dad's. No matter, it was still odd.

   By the time we got on the interstate, it was already 8:30P.M. and it was going to be a four hour drive. I had just worked a nine hour day at the photolab, which happened to include me chasing down a thief, a pretty big - six foot five thief - and retrieve a thirteen hundred dollar camera and lens kit he swiped. (But that's a completely different story). North bound on interstate 75 at a cruising speed of seventy-five. Tall boys and apples with tea, good old classic rock jams for the ears, grand philosophical conversations about life and skateboarding. Then it happened. A bit north of Ocala, about two - two and a half hours into our journey, the engine just loses power and cuts off. The battery light comes on the dash gauge, my dash lights work, headlights are working fine, even the radio is still jamming away. I mash down on the gas pedal, still no action. As the truck coasts down, I pull off the highway onto the right shoulder of the road. I put the gear into park and the old truck cranks, starting right up with full power. At first for a short while it's running good, but as we hit the rolling hills of I-75 between Ocala and Lake City, the Ranger starts shifting harsh on the inclines mostly yet also at times on the declines. A little while more down the highway the engine loses power again, it lost power a total of four times. Every time the engine would cut off I would just shift into neutral and coast [in the middle lane] and that old truck would crank back up and keep on. After we made it north of Lake City and onto interstate 10 west all the way into Tallahassee, the Ranger ran solid. Not one problem. 

   Thirty minutes after midnight we were pulling into the driveway at Phil and Matt's little block house. We unloaded all of our gear into the house, sat on the couch and cracked some brews, talking of our highway adventure and catching up with each other on the old grand times. An hour or so passed. Matt, Josh, and I were pretty hammered but even so, we decided to roll up to the Tallahassee skatepark for a cruise. We were the only three folks there. At first roll into the bank, I hit some kind of chunk of plastic [or something], locking up my front wheels, giving me a nice big flatspot and sending me jumping forward to run out of possible disaster. [First night in town - I already had my truck fucking up stuck in my head, now this, a big old flatspot on a new set of wheels.] I thought to myself, shit man - I don't want this next couple of days to go like this. I want these days to be the goodtimes. I pushed myself to pull myself out of that dirty funk. I knew I was there to skate and I wanted to skate. It needed to be O.G. It needed to be on the streets, raw and pure. Matt and I made a few moves that night yet for the most part we both were over the park. Josh - on the flipside of things - was ripping. I think it was sometime between 3 or 3:30A.M. when we left the park and headed back to the pad. Josh and I had to sleep on the floor in Matt's room. Josh had Matt's sleeping bag and I had a dusty old brown blanket from my folk's garage. I hit the floor wrapped in that old blanket and fell asleep almost instantly, thinking after nine hours at the photolab, a four hour drive, then booze and skating, I know I'll sleep well. I went to sleep that early morning knowing we would skate a full day that Wednesday. We woke Wednesday morning around 11A.M., a bit later than expected, but the sleep was well earned. I was the last one to walk out to the living room - to find Phil's grandparents were in town for a visit as well. I brought fresh fruits with me, I had bananas, kiwis, and avocados. We had tea and fruit breakfasts (sometimes with beer). About noon time we skated from the house, up the block and bombed a hill - that led us to an intersection at the halfway point of another hill. So we walked up the rest of the way to the top of the hill. We had to wait for the traffick light to turn green on the other side. Bombed that hill. When we got to the bottom, we were basically just outside of the cracked out side of the neighborhood. That's when some random crackhead broad walked up on us. She seemed to take kind to Josh. We were talking about going to get food and she was telling us there was a soup kitchen type of spot just around the corner giving out free meals to the homeless, and that we could eat there. Josh said to her that they probably wouldn't have sausage mcmuffins and that's what he wanted. She answered back with, aw baby you have to buy that. Them things are a dollar, you must be rich. She walked with us for a block or so and was drinking a can of Joose - it's an energy drink with alcohol. She told Josh it was her eighth one and it was only about 12:30P.M. We walked back up the hill, the rest of the way to the house and then piled into Matt's truck to go eat before we skated. We dined at this real jam Asian cafe spot, it's called Tans, it was proper for sure, and pretty cheap to boot.

   By now it was the middle of the afternoon and we were headed to a little ditty of a warm up spot that Matt and Josh knew of. It was an old abandoned small warehouse with a narrow width, long loading dock. Some other skaters had built a cinderblock ledge with angle iron, there was a real small flat rail, and the loading dock bank was just right for doing tricks into. It had a pretty big crack at the top and that basically made a small gap to pop over, but the landing ground of the parking lot was not so good, quite rocky - full of cracks, it was like an Ohio memory. Once again Josh threw down on a warm up sesh. From there we went more into the downtown area, and the Florida State University campus. We hit up these real good banks on campus and just as we were warming up, we got the boot. Kicked out by a security guy on a four-wheeler. This is something every skater knows how to handle - so we moved on. We found another warm up spot with two manny pads and manhole covers for good flat gaps. We left Matt's truck parked and just cruised the streets on our boards - bombing hills and hitting any little random obsticle or terrain to pull off a move. Matt led us up a few sets of three stairs into some little courtyard area outside of some official city building which also happens to be across the street from city hall. The spot had nice low brick ledges all over. We all threw down quite a few good moves there - all while some debate or something was going on inside and was being broadcast through loudspeakers. There were people outside smoking cigarettes on the second floor balcony. They didn't pay us any mind. Back to bombing street hills and back to the truck to again move on to the next location. 

   Matt drove us back across a chunk of town to another bank spot he and Josh (again) knew of. It was basically in the backyard of the house where Phil used to rent, and next to an abortion clinic. And yes there were protesters with signs outside in the parking lot. This was the spot I liked best. It had almost all the elements of any skate spot all in one - it had perfect smooth ground, it had rough patches with cracks and holes, there were rocks, low hanging tree limbs just over the banks, and the banks were perfect height and steepness yet made of pebble rock. So the banks also had smoothed out and rough patches. If you landed a trick wrong, you'd either stick and get tossed or slide out like it was ice. The three of us seemed to have had the day's best session there. The camera gear came out and sequences were captured. One from Matt, about half a dozen with Josh, and with Josh using my equipment - I even got in a couple of good [slam] sequences. Unfortunately due to the sun setting and loss of light, I didn't get the sequence or even the trick at all. I did however shred my left hand open. Hell, it's not a real session unless blood is drawn. Exhausted, dirty, sore, and a bit bloody, hungry as hell, we headed back to that small block house but this wouldn't be the night's end. Barge the house after such a hearty grand day with friends. Even before I wash the dirt and dried crusted blood from my sore hands, I go straight into the kitchen into the refridgerator, pour a glass of green tea and grab my left over mongolian tofu and rice from Tans cafe. Straight from the fridge without heating it up - I devour my plate of food. Now bring on the night filled with brew, music, friends, conversations, and the film Kids. Random chill photos were taken to steal the souls and memories. Another crazy boozed late night for the three of us [and it was a Wednesday night]. It was close to 4A.M. when we went to sleep, so it was definitely going to be a late Thursday morning rise. Again, it was around 11A.M. when we got up, [to again greet Phil's grandparents]. Matt, Josh, and I just sat on the couches in the living room watching Goodtimes on the television being complete wasted piles of shit for the early part of the afternoon while Phil, his girlfriend, and his grandparents went for lunch. We really were also waiting for Phil to get back. Yes. Phil made a guest cameo and not only came along for the sesh but he drove. Back to the downtown and FSU campus areas we were headed. 

   I loaded my camera gear with the boards into the trunk of Phil's four door Honda and we were off. We really didn't cruise around downtown. We stuck mainly to rolling around the college campus hitting up random hills to bomb, ledge and manny pad spots, and we finally did get the chance to cruise those nice banks that we got kicked out from on the first day. It was a good mellow cruise around campus session with good old friends. We all made moves and we missed a few as well. The camera gear didn't make it out of the trunk of Phil's car that late Thursday afternoon, but oh well, it wasn't that kind of session anyway. Evening was creeping on and Josh and I had to make our journey east on I-10 and south on I-75, four hours back to Tampa. We got back to the house, loaded all of our gear back up into the cab of the Ranger, and chilled for a short spell having a brew with friends before getting back on that old lone highway. We gave our last days cheers for the road just around 6P.M., said see ya later to our friends and backed out of the driveway into the street.

   There was one more mission Josh and I had to take care of before we hit the road. We had to go to his brother's apartment and pick up a little Yamaha scooter. We loaded it up into the bed of my truck, tied it down with rope Matt let us use, and hit a gas station. We were back on our way home. We got on the interstate 10 about 7:30P.M. and the Ranger ran solid the journey home to Tampa. We stopped off somewhere in Lake City for a dinner of sandwiches at some dive of a sandwich shop, on the highway we saw a gnarly accident in the north bound lane of I-75 with a flipped over car and emergency rescue vehicles, we listened to Hip-Hop, had grand conversations about the goodtimes we do live.

   I dropped Josh off - we unloaded the scooter - at his parent's house about 11:30P.M., and by midnight I was pulling into the driveway at my folk's.

Lazy Sundays

   Lazy Sundays, late mornings on through the afternoon, sometimes even into the evenings. Dusk, the loss of light. Dark shadows loom to ruin photos. This was our own Sunday old school tradition in the workings. The foundation included myself, Lance Robson, Robert Bain, Shannon Bruffett, Troy, Chris Knight (a lot of the time), Tre, and so many others, both among the named and the random nameless. These were our Sundays at the historical Bro-Bowl in downtown Tampa. Cases of beer were drank, cook outs were just as common and ghettoblasters supplied various soundtracks. From Hip-Hop to Punk and Metal to Reggae. Fast cruising lines down the snakerun - jamming around the top of the bowl and carving back down the back wall up over the humps to carve back into it once more around. All the while holding a can of beer with a certain respect to Chet Childress. A plank of wood and four small wheels really is an absolute freedom that many will never truly understand. But by now it's been almost a month since the last session. Well, I should say the last session I've been to or know of.

   We had been doing these Sunday sessions for a few months, but this one Sunday - the vibe felt different. There was something that felt important about this particular Sunday's sesh. I was stoked LBK was going to be up there because that coming Wednesday he was hitting the road headed back out west, to Santa Cruz. Of course most of the regular crew was there. I was more into photographer mode than skate mode that day. Which worked out well because I was able to get a few good shots of LBK, and Robert was having one of the best skate days he's had in some time. I racked in a few sequences and stills with him. My favourite is the still frame of his frontside 360 ollie. Robert had been blasting big high frontside ollies across the back-side bank wall of the bowl. When I asked him to do one more so I could get the shot, he pulled out all the stops, full throttle, and whipped out a big frontside 360 first try. At first when I popped the shutter of my camera, I was taken by surprise by the unexpected 360 ollie. I thought I had blown the shot. As it turned out, when I hit the preview button, I got another surprise. I ended up realizing I had what would become one of my favourite skate photos - even more so now after how that Sunday would end. 

   I don't remember exactly the time but it was after 5P.M. The session was definitely winding down. LBK still wasn't back from the store getting us water, Robert cruised along the sidewalk that outlines the bowl - setting up for one more ollie into the bowl for a cruise run. This is when Robert broke his right ankle. He ollied in, slid out leaning back - sliding up one of the humps pushing his weight back sitting on his ankle, breaking it. I was turned to my left to start packing away my camera equipment, I saw him slide out - out of the corner of my eye, I heard Shannon's voice and it didn't sound promising. I looked back to my right to see Shannon running down into the bowl and Robert was hobbling up to sit on top of the hump. He was saying he just needed to straighten it back, that's when I looked down, closer, and saw his right foot pointing outward to the right. Behind me, to my left, I heard Lance's voice telling me to go get my truck, but before I could react Shannon was already yelling to Tre and throwing him his keys to his Lincoln. With quickness Tre had Shannon's Lincoln jumping the curb and on the grass, I tossed Robert and Shannon's boards in the trunk, grabbed Robert's cell phone and cigarettes - he was calm, Shannon carried him out of the bowl and put him in the passenger seat. Robert smoked a cigarette. Of course just seconds after they leave for Tampa General hospital, this is when LBK gets back from the store. I met Shannon and Robert at the hospital. After a couple of hours or so, the result was a compound break which also resulted in Robert having to get surgery and have screws and pins put in. By the time Robert was able to be released, Lance showed up, helping to make times good even when they're not so good. It truly is a blessing to have great friends.

Originoo Gunn Clappaz

   It was a Saturday night - September 18, 1999 - I hadn't been out to Ybor City or any of the clubs for quite some time. Sandman was doing another show. It was O.G.C. from the Boot Camp Clik. Fader was of course the house DJ.

   The day started with me having to work from 2:30P.M. until 11P.M. My mind wasn't working on that day and I spent it in some sort of dizzy, dream-like tranced state. It wasn't fun. By the time 11P.M. came and it was time to split to the club, I felt a bit better and even hyped up. It had been raining, the clouds still hung in the night sky, and there was a feeling about the night that was a bit uneasy. It was 11:30P.M. by the time I made it out to the club. I paid $7 to park in the parking lot behind club Masquerades. Door admission was $10 but I knew I was getting in for nothing. It was the usual, bring the camera equipment and walk in, so I thought. I get to the door and club security tries to make me pay the $10 and tells me I can't bring in my backpack. Sandman's wife, Tashea, helps my argument with the security. After a short while of arguing and a thorough search of my bag, I'm finally in the club. So there I sat, at the back of the club until O.G.C. went on at around 2A.M. - they got off stage at 2:20A.M., and ten minutes later at 2:30A.M. I left the club. A 20 minute waste of time is all that show ended up being, with no photos shot either.

   I walked out of the club the same way I walked in - alone. On the way to the parking lot I was met up with this kid Matt, as we crossed the lot disaster struck. Matt and I got fucked with by four big-ass pretty-boy assholes. One of them tries to get my backpack but I somehow manage to get away. Matt, on the other hand, gets blind sided from both sides, falls back, and gets his head kicked in. By the time anyone comes to help the dudes are gone, Matt is knocked out and the police question me and Matt as if we started that bullshit.

   One of the worst nights....

Black Moon: War Zone Album Release Show. Wednesday, March 10, 1999.

   I got to the club, The Rubb, at about 9P.M. Standing out front with my camera equipment in my backpack, Sandman's Ford Explorer passes by and turns the corner, a van pulls up soon after - parks in front of the club - enter the scene, Evil Dee, Buckshot, Dru Ha, Thor, and Eddie. We all enter the club for the sound check. DJ Evil Dee works the 1's and 2's, Buckshot warms up the mics, Dru Ha, Thor, and Eddie are all over the club and eating french fries, Edwin and Sandman are all about the club as well, checking P.A. and amp levels, and making sure things are set. K'Sheem is off sitting at a table eating a bar-bq sandwich. I had no idea where Bobby was. I myself sat at a table and just observed everyone. The sound check ended and we all left to go to T.G.I. Friday's to eat. On the way to Friday's Bobby started bitching about being broke and not wanting to be sitting up in the restaurant broke and not eating. He tried to call me out on being broke too, saying some shit about how I'm going to look dumb not eating. Meanwhile he sat outside in the parking lot. He ended up calling Tai and having Tai come pick him up to go back to the club. We took up two tables. K'Sheem, Sandman, and I at one table; and the Duckdown crew at the other. Buckshot kept fucking with the hostess. The waiter was slow as hell. After a while Idris and Terrance showed up; then some chick, a promoter or rep - some shit like that, showed up to interview Buck and Evil Dee. After dinner and all the fuck around shit at Friday's we all piled back into our vehicles and headed for the hotel. When we got to the hotel, K'Sheem and I were in the parking lot talking to Buck and he gave K'Sheem a copy of the War Zone album. Dru Ha, Dee, Buck, and Thor went off to one of their rooms; and Eddie, Sandman, K'Sheem, and I were cooling it in Eddie's room watching Jerry Springer, talking all kinds of shit. Eddie started breaking up the trees and rolling a blunt. Only he and I smoked. Some time around 1A.M. we all dipped back to the club to do the show. The show turned out real dope. The Duckdown crew was real damn cool. A hectic but dope as hell night.