isn't as big as Tallahassee's, but the scene is.
There's the nicest vert ramp there and Paul
Zitzer tears it up. If you haven't seen him
skate, you should. Anyway, our first night was
spent at the delightful, urine-stained, coke
fiend-infested, whorehouse motel known as
The Tropicana. The pool was filthy and the TV
filthier, with only three channels: ESPN, the
Shane's main
assignment
Das to get us
some gators
THE SHANE MICHAEL TEENWOLF
PHATTERSON EXPERIENCE
Shane's balls-out approach to everything made
him stand way out in the Tampa crowd. He drives
a mean little putt putt and Ben got the heart
attack pleasure of riding shotgun in his car as he
led the way across Florida for the Atlantic Coast.
Adam followed behind the wheel of the Skylark
with a nervous stomach, scared for Ben. Rob won-
dered aloud. "What the Hell was that?!?" at
Shane's every spastic
driving maneuver.
Shane's main assign-
ment was to get us to
some gators. He didn't,
but we saw a snapper
turtle. We headed for
Altamont Springs to
skate the Badlands,
Weather Channel, and a seventies' porno chan-
nel. I stayed up all night because I hate
pornography, prostitution, drugs, and the
stench of piss. I know it's hip to talk about
blunts, blow jobs, Howard Stern and going to
prison, but I have other things on my mind.
The Tropicana helped transformed Florida into
Hell for me, but even in the darkest places, light
finds a way, and that way was our tourguide for
the day, Bobby Lee Addison Jr, the boy with the
golden fro. Bobby works at the Skatepark of
Tampa and knows all the moves. He guided us to
St Pete and the Salvador Dali Museum.
which was nice. Bobby's antics and hi-jinx
made us forget the filth, but I still knew we
were in Florida. We went back to the park,
which is run by Brian Schaefer, and met Billy
Francis Rohan, Jeff Laughliu, Dave Paul
Ferguson, Joel Govind Jutageir and Alex
Haolin. There were a heck of a lot more peo-
ple there, but you can't meet the world. So
we got ready to leave and hooked up with
our new tourguide, nicknamed Teenwolf.
We shook hands and cut out.
which is a sweet little outdoor park with an array
of halfpipes, cement bumps, dips and a cute little
pool that Shane got rad in. We ran into Derik
Adams of the Soul Sonic Mime Troupe, and saw
Emily Hope Prodgers and Daniel Powell again.
Turns out they left Atlanta and are on the make
for a humidity-free life in California.
THE BIG THING ON JOHN'S ISLAND
We drove all night and slept on the beach in
Charleston, SC. nice and far from you know
where. We went to John's Island and played on a
big wooden bowl known as The Hanger. Many peo
Vert wonderboy Paul Zitzer (opposite top)
shows his latest trick, a jackknife big-rig at
the SPOT. Arlanta's Hellhouse posse (opposite
bottom), another healthy skate crew. Thomas
Taylor (above), Indy to hell over elliptical
trannies in Atlanta, GA. Daniel Powell (left)
serves up a fatty. The Charleston crew (below
left) parties down. The alligator dog (bottom)
closes in on its prey in Charleston.
ple skate it, including
Jimmy Leaphart and six
year old little big Bradley.
Then we found a mutant pitbull that thinks it's an
alligator at a swimming hole when it gets in water.
It chased some hippy kids around, what a hoot.
SALVATION AT SOUTH OF THE BORDER
If you have ever heard a harsh word against
the South of the Border, pay it no mind. Take it
lightly because many people make their opinions
based on the empty opinions of others. When we
arrived Rob went to sleep and Adam, Ben and I
had the whole mess to ourselves. It was 1:30 am
and every curb was painted thick and glassy. All
the lights were a-
buzz and the mon-
sters were out.
Man, I love that
place, but you'd
probably hate it.
Everything in this
world is relative.
it's all a matter
of perception.