A pre-session bucket brigade at the Beatle Bowl
RETURN TO THE BEATLE BOWL
By Billy Runaway
And in the (deep) end
The line that you give
Beatle Bowl bertieman, Kenny King
of Paimidale presses up to a shallow end grind
54
CUGULLAS
Clockwise from left: Jeff Hodges free falling off 3
rows of blue tile in a deep diving well in Northern
Cal. Fish, wheels out, tail tapped, Amoeba pool.
Alan Losi, grinding a rough edged Buena Vista
bowl.
Is equal to the grind
That you get.
...something
John Lennon
should have said
"Begin transmission"...I hung up my phone, having
secured an all-clear signal for Plan A, which involved acquir-
ing access to a local top-secret pool. Those who knew of its
existence weren't talking and those who didn't wished that
they were. A local real estate agent had nearly caused an
abortion by overstaying his welcome on the property in ques-
tion, but a few well-placed hints by our advance men did
wonders in speeding up his appraisal process. It's a good
thing that "Plan A" came off because...well, there was no
"Plan B" and when people are flying in to skate the pool
under your assurance, its either "Plan A"-or you have some
serious explaining to do...
The gathering site for all concerned was also shrewdly
designed to serve as a lunch stop, however halfway through
my salad, the meal was declared over, due to an incident in-
volving BK, the waitress, her mother, flesh-colored lollipops
and $10 tips. Soon after this incident we found ourselves in
the parking lot. A few traffic violations later, we arrived at the
site in question. Access to the premises was difficult, due to
the presence of various domesticated farm-type animals,
some of which were rather hostile. Take "Anarchy Chicken"
for instance, who seemed to take great pleasure in launching
random attacks on unwary skaters. Beau seemed to be more
concerned about the local canine, but he was too busy soak-
ing himself in the lawn sprinkler to do any bodily harm to
anyone.
Once we were past the local wildlife, we made our way to
the pool. Those who would be doing the skating started bail-1
ing the drain water, while those who would be watching head-
ed for the shade, since temps were already in the three digit
range. Don Ho was also on hand to entertain those on the in-
jured list but he didn't bring his ukelele. Within a few
minutes the pool was dry and skateable and those in atten-
dance began to take full advantage. The pool had been nam-
ed the Beatle Bowl, owing to the presence of the Beatles
themselves in the bottom of the deep end. Not in person
mind you, 'cuz I think some of them are dead already, or they
have more important things to do, but some budding young
Picasso had, in a moment of divine inspiration, depicted
them in all of their glory with waterproof paint. Somehow no
one was very much concerned with the Beatles, the main
focus of attention was the death box, shallow end and hip of
the pool, in no particular order.
The pool session lasted until it ended, which seemed ap-
propriate. A brief street session then ensued in the rec room
of the pool area, with the most preferred moves involving the
firepit ring and the punching bag. A badly needed refresh-
ment break was called for and agreed upon. We wound up
moments later at the local dairy, where we had the good for-
tune to once again encounter our waitress from lunch, sans
her mother. She asked us what was up and after hearing the
various replies (none of them printable) she drove off with
one of her fingers waving in the breeze and pointing in our
general direction...End of transmission.