ack to the hotel via a van time warp.
Carlos was our trusty guide from
Vans Mexico, and his white passenger
rental van hauled us all over Mexico City.
It didn't matter if it took us an hour to get
somewhere, it might take only five minutes
to get back. On a couple of nights we spent
over an hour looking for a restaurant, only
to discover upon leaving that we were ten
minutes away from our original point of
departure. It was then we discovered that
the van was really a magical time machine
that only Carlos knew how to control. Our
only point of reference was the Denny's-
like Vips restaurant chain. Every time.
we'd see one we'd all call out, "VIPS!
VIPS!" It seemed like some nights we
passed thousands of them.
The Vans demo troupe consisted of
Ignacio Villanueva, Salman Agah, Max
Schaaf, Steve Bailey, Jesse Van Rockout,
Brian Seber, and Tony DaSilva. For three
days, they performed demonstrations,
threw stuff out, and judged an amateur con-
test that was held at what appeared to be a
go-cart track. The winner of the contest.
won a trip to LA to skate the Vans park as
well as see "un concierto de Blink 182."
The crowds at the demos were nuts. They
yelled, chanted, and whistled for the con-
testants and heckled the hell out of the
Americans. Somehow Salman and Ig
started a fight with them that escalated to
back-and-forth hucking of water, bottles,
product, oranges, and even what appeared
to be a Ziploc bag full of urine. They would
scream with delight when Salman took a
slam and chanted insults in unison.
"Don't worry," one of our hosts told me. "They are all just posers."
They had a really sketchy demo ramp that Max and Bailey skated
and some janky street obstacles for everyone else. The Mexican
skaters were pretty good and seemed to like the flat bars and the
miniature handrail the best. Popular moves included the boardslide,
the crooked grind, and the bank kickflip to fakie. Needless to say, the
contest dragged a little. Except, of course, when the Mexican Daniel
Haney decided to jump off the vert ramp into one of the wedges.
With all eyes on his powerful frame, Mexihaney would eye up his
path to the awaiting bank. He would then raise a finger to his lips to
communicate his need for absolute silence. After the crowd was
hushed, he would charge off the side of the vert ramp, accenting his
flight with a stylish stink grab, and in best-case scenarios land in an
ass-skidding heap at the bottom, or in worst belly-flop off the side of
the landing ramp. He tried it probably 35 times over the weekend and
we never got tired of it. Mexihaney defintely deserved the Blink 182.
concert, even if he didn't get it.
Rosa, another host, told us that when the last group of American
skaters came to Mexico City all they wanted to know was, "Where's
the beers? Where's the weeds? Where's the chicks?"
This quickly evolved into a mock maxim which would we often refer
back to and punctuate with the phrase "make party!"
"Chicks! Weeds! Beers! Make party!"
"ONICKS! WEEDS!
BEERS! MAKE PARTY!"
VANS
Clockwise from top left: La estrella
de lucha libre, Salman Agah, grapples the
wavy 'crete at Guanacacha and puts it in the
sleeper hold with a lofty backside ollie. With joy
in his heart, Bailey pounced through a frontside.
noseblunt in the eyes of the Lord.
Mexihaney makes party with a stylish loft from
vert to street. Tony DaSilva backside Smith grind
in his green period.
NA
UBU
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