TAHITI
THE TAKEOVER OF AN ISLAND
Sick Boy: "Sick puppy!" F-Stop: "Consider yourself
lucky Tin-Tin: "Yeah, at least it wasn't a pit bull."
A short while later the Honda arrives at Papara, a river
mouth beach-break with three-to-five-foot waves. Our three
characters stand at the shore's edge as the local talents
Top: One mode of transportation rests on another.
Above: An island local known as Jackie takes a
frontal night flight at Louis' ramp. Right: An
adolescent belly-boarder in a wet atmosphere.
destroy the tropical surf. Wilfred soars a two-foot air. Arsene
bashes an upside-down lip gash and Franco pulls in a fully
extended layback.
Sick Boy: "Damn, those dudes can kill it."
Soon after, the locals, in broken, English and universal
sign language, roll with Tin-Tin and Sick Boy in quite the
Jamaican way. The warm raindrops begin to fall slowly.
As the Sick Boy looks up through narrowed eyes, it begins
to fall faster and harder.
Tin-Tin: "No skating today, beah." Sick Boy: "Harsh
realm."
The cheapest hotel on the island is $80 a night, so the
trio accepts a hospitable offer to stay in a house above
48
a small general store. The place is owned by a great guy
and good friend of F-Stop, Raymond Leau. The living situa
tion here could be considered tight at best, with eleven
people sleeping in the four-room living area. Fortunately,
although they don't speak the same language, everyone
seems to get along fine.
DAY TWO: THE POLITICS OF DANCING.
Speeding vehicles, barking dogs and crowing roosters fail
to do what the beer truck unloading case after case below
the trio's window has done. Sick Boy rubs his eyes and
notices that his exposed feet were the main course of a
nighttime insect banquet. The next thing he realizes is that
it's raining. Hard.
Sick Boy: "So harsh. I come to this island that's supposed
to be all sunny and now it rains." F-Stop: "Never mind,
we've gotta take care of business today anyhow."
The day soon turns into a blur of handshakes and small
talk as the Sick One is properly introduced to all the reign-
ing heavyweights. These people include Patrick Robsin at
the office of tourism, Robert Tanseau owner of "Shop Tahiti,"
Cyril Lehartel from the Ministry of Sport, Jo Najean of Radio
Tiare, and Edwin Aline from the Nouveau Journal and the
"Too Much," a nightclub downtown in Papeetee. After a
serious down-the-neck session, the time comes for the Sick
Bay to give his first interview. The lovely Joell Lellouche
asks the questions. After the verbal assault, photos are
deemed necessary. The indoor parking lot at the Vaima Center
in downtown Papeetee is the only place dry enough to skate.
Unfortunately, just as the French photographer is ready
to snap a few photos, the owner of the center walks into
the lot.
Owner: "Qu'est que tu fait?" Tin-Tin: "What?"" Owner:
"Pas du skate ici!"
Shunned, the Sick One has his photos taken in a covered
alleyway across the street.
Later that evening the trio goes to the French television
studio for national interviews. Room on the set is a precious
commodity and the interview is done without a translator.
In semi-coherent French, F-Stop tries to answer the questions
put to him.
F-Stop: "Dans skateboard aujourd'hui uh today it's plus
radical et aggresive, dong Joe." Gerard (to Sick Boy): "Et
toi qu'elle sort du skate est-ce que tu fait?"
The Sick One, not comprehending the French language
beyond "bonjour," doesn't respond until Gerard (in broken
English) prods.
Gerard: "Uh...uh, what sort style make you?" Sick
Boy: Oh...I like to ride streets.
After the interview, the crew finds themselves in Too Much,
feasting hard on trays of mini pizzas and pastries. The
occasion is a going away party for Jo Najean, who is moving
back to France.
F-Stop: "This might be the only time we get free food
and drinks while we're here. Don't blow it." Sick Boy: "Blow
what?" F-Stop: "Do you know how much a beer costs?
Never mind, I'll tell you. It's ten bucks." Sick Boy: "Not!"
A short time later the polluted American contingency
descends upon the dance floor with a platoon of dark-skinned
betties. The universal language of music is understood by
all feet present.
Back at Raymond's blurry house, it's 3:00 am.
F-Stop: "Okay, you guys, we gotta go through the
backyard to get to the back door." Sick Boy: "But isn't
that where the pit bulls sleep?" Tin-Tin: "Just pray their
leashes don't break when they wake up."
The Sick one laughs in a rather uncontrollable manner.
Tin-Tin: "What's the deal, dude?" Sick Boy: "This place.
It's so wacked."
DAY THREE: SIZZLING SESSIONS
Heat is the wakening force on the third day of the venture.
It's a postcard day in French Polynesia. The water is brilliant
blue and the hills are luscious green. The palm trees sway
gently in the clean tropical breeze but, most importantly,
the streets are skateable. We find the crew downstairs soaking
up the toxic juice of the previous night with French bread,
which is a staple on the island.
F-Stop: "How do you feel Sick Boy?" Sick Boy: "Hell
of bent." Tin-Tin: "You should drink some juice."
The brownish orange liquid is absorbed by the Sick Boy.
As he lowers the carton from his lips, Raymond's sister comes
into the kitchen and excitedly opens the morning paper
to reveal a two-page spread with a huge article and many
photos of the crew.
Sick Boy: "No way!" F-Stop: "That's nothing. We gotta
go now or we'll be late for the photo session with the two
other newspapers."
The trio drives a short distance south to Lotus Center.
Besides being one of the more exclusive shopping areas,
Lotus is also host to some of the most skateable cement
on the island of Tahiti. There are two, twenty-foot downhill
painted curbs, drop-off parking spaces, launchable mini-
banks and hell of perfect parking curbs. It's 9:30 am and
the temperature is beyond boiling. It's time to shut up
and skate. Sick Boy is killing it but the unsuspecting.
photographers always seem to be in the wrong place. ►
Two Californians capture a Tahitian
beauty at Pt. Venus.
Of course, they have no comprehension of
skate lines, which explains why they are
constantly in his way. Sick Boy begins to
breathe very hard as the sun takes its toll.
Niagra sweat falls down his body.
Sick Boy: "I think we better go to the
ramp before I get too burnt."
A full platoon of mini grommets is waiting
at the Taina ramp, aching to watch the Sick
B.K. pays a visit to a South Pacific
laundromat.
Bay skate. They are fully stoked to watch
the barrage of tricks he pulls out of his
vertical bag. Unfortunately, the already
fatigued Sick One is soon a ball of melted
Jell-O and the session ends. Through huffs
and puffs he explains to Cyril.
Sick Boy: "Whew...I'm just not used to
this. huh...weather."
After giving out stickers, autographs and
handshakes, the trio moves onward in search
of cooler realms. Driving back to Raymond's
house, the easy life in the cool climate of
San Francisco finally shows its effects.
Sick Boy (urgently): "Pull over, dude!"
As the car reaches the side of the road,
Sick Boy is already halfway out the door.
One solid spew of brownish-orange vomit
is expelled. Looking as pale as mayonnaise
on white bread he mutters, "That's the first
time I've ever puked from skating.
The government, in an effort to promote
sports and keep the young Tahitians from
falling into a life of vice, has adopted a
rather healthy attitude toward skating.
Instead of trying to outlaw it, like so many
places in the States, they glorify it. In fact,
government-hired carpenters were respon-
sible for the epic ramps and obstacles that
would be used in the next day's activities.
DAY FOUR: THE DAY OF DEMO
All three morning papers are covered with
photos of the sick young man from Califor-
nia doing his thing. Celebrity status has now
been attained and the threesome is recog-
nized wherever they go. After lunch the time
comes for Tahiti's first ever skate demo. The
media is out in full force, with French T.V.
and all three newspapers reporting. With
the first grinding Cult power chord, the crowd
of 1,500 starts to rock out and screams in
approval. In the crowd, a certain Miss
Hinirava Jamet sticks out like a ripe mango
in a bag of rocks
Tin-Tin: "She's so..." Sick Boy: "If I
spoke French I'd have my way."
Announcer: "Et maintenant, le Sick
Boy!!!"
All eyes are on Sick Boy as he obliterates
the narrow half-pipe coping with frontside
grinds and pushes the odds with a few choice
slide and rolls. The RFO television comero
man finds an angle in the lower left corner
of the ramp and is in the midst of focusing
when the Sick Boy lofts a tweak air over
his head and lands on the parking lot below.
The crowd goes crazy and about forty-three
mini-grommets mouths drop open. Board
slides, nosepicks, 360° airs, and assorted
ground tricks soon have the crowd drooling
buckets. While Sick Bay takes a breather,
Tin-Tin hits the pavement and flows some
fast footwork and wheelie variations. To
finish, he unleashes ten 360°, which have
the crowd cheering and displaying shaka
Raymond Leau with son Tereau.
signs. Next, Patrick, the hottest local on
the island, busts out a few handplants and
frontside inverts. Feeling the crowd's energy
waning, Sick Boy finds four volunteers to
lie on their backs. The kid at the far end
of the ollie screams in terror as he sees a
king pin descending in the general area of
his skull. Sick Boy clears the kid, and the
crowd is up on their feet for a standing
ovation.
Sick Boy: "Bring on the car."
The Honda is pulled (Continued on page 99)
SuperCash
SUICIDAL
TENDENCES
THRASHER
SuperCash
BRING LIFE BACK TO YOUR BOARD
Photo: M.FO
SuperCush
suspension
To order direct, send $2.00 per package to:
SUPERCUSH, PO. Box 884234,
San Francisco, CA 94188.
Specify Soft, Firm or Extra Firm formula:
Each package contains 2 bushings.
49