CH
ROPA DE PLAYA
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I said I'm hungry learned it this morning."
They were too, so we called Charo and Hedy.
Everyone crammed into two cars, including Enano:
it translates as Runta local skateboarder who
barely spoke any English. After a tortuous ride
around some deadly curves, they pulled in front
of a restaurant and said. "Hokay. You eat here."
The eats were less than pleasant. We toasted to
survivin' this long in a foreign country without get-
tin' in too much trouble Agreet mariachi bend
played. I wanted them to do "El Rancho Grande."
I couldn't quite enjoy their finale 'cause the drink
suddenly got to me and I threw up all over the
table and Charo and Hey Luckily, no one noticed
and I was able to slither out of there pretty darned
easily.
A hero's welcome awaited me at the hotel, as
the skaters took me in as one of their own "not
afraid to puke in publle club. Seemed to be a
pretty interesting adventure after all.
The morning started like an old Sopwith Camel,
the skaters slowly cranking over their motors,
lazidaisically stumbling through the apartment-like
hotel room. Simultaneously, it seemed, all the
Americans got stomach cramps. Montezuma's
Revenge had infiltrated during the night. Lucky
"The other what?" I thought, beginning
to feel that something wasn't right. The
thought that I might be kidnapped and just
don't know it yet, raced through my trem-
bling brain. Or maybe I'd fallen into yet
another international spy ring, or better
yet, a drug ring. I played along. They put
me in a hotel across the street from them,
to keep an eye on me, I assumed. It was
a pretty clever ruse, using those two girl
agents to throw me, them looking like
Hedy and Charo and distracting me with
the birthday serenades and social talk. It
waited inside the room for a while, then
decided to go for a stroll. Someone asked
me where I wanted to go, and I said I'd
like to buy some trinkets. They sent me
out with a chaperone and I bought a cou-
ple of yo-yos and, secretly, snagged seven
stilettos in case things got ugly.
When I returned, the room was filled
with travel bags and skateboards with
skulls all over them. I flipped on the TV
and zombied into the Flintstones, in Span-
ish. The sound of a key going into the lock
of the door preceded a handful of sweaty
guys carrying more skateboards. "Who
are you guys?"
"That's Aaron, that's Midgett and I'm
Steve. Who are you?"
"My friends call me Jay Dee Bee, thems
initials for Jamie Dirt Bag III. Did you guys
win the Hank Williams song contest too?"
66 THRASHER MAGAZINE
The Jalisco landscape behind him, advanced winner,
Enano, bumps a backside on the big ramp while the
sky opens up and the rain comes down. Steve Schneer
warms up before the crowds arrive.
"We're here for the demo at the
skatepark. Who do you ride for? We've
never heard of you."
"Ride? Why I ride for the male.
species. Straight shooter."
"No. What skate team do you ride
for?"
So this isn't the Long-Gone-Lone-
some-Blues, Heart-Break Special
Vacation Tour, I thought to myself.
Damn, maybe I dialed the wrong num-
ber from the airport.
"So what do you do for a living?"
asked the six foot, 200-pound guy they
called Midget.
I didn't want to give away my true
identity as a high-paid gigolo, so I had
to think fast. "Uhm. A taxidermist.
Yeah, I stuff dead things." They bought it.
"No way! That's cool. Ever do a
polar bear?" Aaron asked.
"Naw, but I've done over 400 jack-
alopes. Now that's where yer expertise
comes into play. My hands alone are
the most sought after instruments in
most taxidermy circles."
"Ever do an armadillo?" Steve
asked. "I want to get a stuffed arma-
dillo for my brother. I hear tell you can
get 'em down here for next to nothin'."
"Couldn't tell ya," I told him. "Yo
estoy muy hambriento."
"Huh?" they said.
thing there were two bathrooms, making the wait
more bearable (though the fragrance was less than
palatable). Breakfast was a weary affair, with an
occasional moan and skip to the can. "I don't
understand it. I closed my mouth when I took a
shower and I brushed my teeth with bottled water.
How did I get sick?" Aaron groaned as he came
back from spraypainting his name.
The skatepark is called 10% and is owned by
Miguel. He made sure that we had everything that
we needed and offered us drinks. They served
soda, and it came in a little plastic sandwich bag
with ice and a straw. We all agreed that whoever
came up with this concept was a total loon.
"How do you like Guadalajara?" asked Monica,
a girl who epitomized the attractiveness of the
women of this city. We responded with the stom-
ach concerns and the thoroughly delicious food.
Mike declared that later he would take the contin-
gent to a lavish dinner. (Continued on page 82)
Midgett pops out of the salad bowl into the capsule. El Relám-
pago dusts the lip as he transfers from ramp to ramp. Carlos
"Ro" Villanueva twirls into two first places in mid division.