After going to the urban games last year I knew this was going to be a good weekend, so after having a shit week at work I opted to take Friday off and head on up. On arrival I took a wander round saying my hellos and noting the improved street course and wider vert ramp. I settled into watching a bit of vert skating, King was skating good and Max Schaaf was absolutely ruling with massive airs as well as f/s blunts. There was a qualifying comp and some people skated in it, Rodney Clarke was amazing (feeble grind down the rail), Scott Bourne went mad and John Cardiel did a big jump. I didn't see all of it because I went to watch some more vert. After a while I don't know what came over me, but I decided to go and have a little roll around on the course. 2 hours later I was still there and loving the super smooth "no-push" surface. Chris Oliver seemed to skate non-stop for the whole weekend, he was doing nose blunt slides on the block to anything-you-like out. Mattimal and Manimal made a late apres-work appearance for a skate. My day was brightened even more by a sighting of the legendary "D", who is a snakeboarder and breakdancer, and quite blatantly a complete penis. In the evening we made a lame half-arsed attempt to go out, but I was at home in bed choking the chicken by midnight.
Max Schaaf, f/s/flip on vert!
I awoke on Saturday to a room full of sun-rays and jumped on the train with an immense sense of well-being, I knew that today was going to be alright! I bumped into Matt on the way up the road and was shocked to see that he had shed his legendary Leo Sayer 'fro in favour of the more traditional skinhead. On arrival I was confronted by a huge queue of "extreme dudes" waiting to get in. We checked in at mission HQ and went off wandering, I watched some more skating and a bit of BMX dirt jumping. I saw Tom Crowe smash his face into the floor off the handrail and the guy from New Zealand (Gareth?) ollie off the top of the vert wall over a quarter pipe and into the flat bank, Ali Cairns was skating amazingly notably twists and backside 360 dog-piss airs.
Da course was bad-ass
Manimal managed to cram a lid on his hugely oversized craniun and get a skate
The discovery of free Morgans Spice in one of the tents guaranteed a stop off their every half an hour or so, but like all good things it had to come to an end. Things got desparate so we went to the offy and actually handed over money for drink. Soon this ran out as well and I reached an all time low by drinking diamond white and red bull as it was the only free stuff left. Next up came a drunken BMX skid competition involving myself, Weller, Guy and whoever else was there. Everyone performed admirably and the comp was declared a draw (although secretly I knew that I was the best!). Later I collapsed into a crumpled heap onto the bike whilst demonstrating my back hopping skills (unsuccessfully). More drink was drunk and smoke was smoked. The clan had gathered outside the Vans tent ready to advance onto the evenings party at the Dogstar in Brixton. A crew headed for the plumbers van, on the way Rusty ollied off the bandstand over a gap and a barrier first go and in the dark, which, I think anyone who saw it would agree, was very good indeed. He then proceeded to roll down the road on an abandoned bed , before leaving it standing on its end in the middle of the road. The party was on the second floor and looked like a gay night/school disco (all blokes, no bitches) so myself, Wingy, Dave R and some others headed upstairs into some girls party and proceeded to shake our thang. Chesson got thrown out (as usual) for pissing up the wall. King was spotted busting smooth moves on ladies left, right and centre (as usual). The rest of the evening is a bit blurry but I remember staging a bullfight with Emillio "El Torro" playing the bull and recieving a vicious headbutt in my fat gut. The next thing I know, the place is shutting and I can't find anyone I know.
And so my mission began:- I walked from Brixton to New Cross (about 2 hours), got on the wrong night bus and ended up in Chislehurst, walked from Chislehurst to the promise land (SIDCUP)(about 1 hour). The result of these was that by the time I got home (7am) I was sober, exhausted and had some seriously sore and smelly feet. I also apologise to everyone that I phoned at 4am on my mobile, what can I say, I was bored of walking.
After a few hours shut eye, I once again ventured to Clapham to see the casualties from the night before. Chesson had got his bag stolen, but other than that everyone seemed intact. The skating was probably the best on Sunday, Tony Trujillo deservedly won by busting all over the course (miller flip over the spine, f/s flip the gap and loads of huge airs). Vert was going off and loads of people watching, but everyone was soon destracted by a fight kicking off between some people trying to bunk in and knocking the fence down onto some spectators heads. The police arrived before I could get onto the top of the ramp to see the action. The BMX street comp was stupid there were backflips everywhere and Fidds went mental and half killed himself. Afternoon turned into evening and we went our seperate ways, most of us went home but Pete disappeared on a quest for some good lovin'.
That was that, a nice weekend no rain and plenty of laughs.
Stay tuned for next weeks episode.