#THE AIR IS SO CHOCK-FULL OF DOG FECES
BUST THAT EVERYTHING WAS INFECTED"
we were almost ready to give up, Seber
spotted a crazy sidewalk bump off the side
of the road that had a tall rail running next
to it. On the other side of the bar was a
thirty-foot drop.
After pulling it with a raw Z-Boy style, we
headed back to the van to see Carlos being
interrogated by some Mexican police. The
cops were mad that there was beer in the car,
and furthermore they didn't like Carlos' atti-
tude. They snatched his driver's license and
told him that we had to follow them back to
the station. Everyone was nervous until all of
a sudden another cop ran over to them from
the sidewalk and gestured wildly up the road.
The car we were following sped off and
Carlos took off after them. The next thing we
knew, the cops jumped out of their car and
tackled some sketchy-looking dude who was
running around in traffic. In between stran-
gling the guy and yanking out his hair, the
cops handed Carlos back his license and we
were free to go. We were all relieved that
there would be no time spent in Mexican jail.
Someone told Salman that baby ram was
the finest food you could eat in all of Mexico.
And for whatever reason, he believed them.
He spent the next day carrying on about
baby ram.
"Dude, when are we getting some ram?"
he'd ask.
Finally, the night before we went home,
Carlos took us to a restaurant that offered the
baby animal Salman craved. And after he had
devoured every bit of the tiny carcass, pol-
ished off a couple of cocktails, and carefully
picked his teeth with the leftover skeleton,
Salman said something that suprised us all.
"Hey, let's go check out those rails."
The rails he spoke of were these hip-high
super long rails in front of a hospital that
everyone had dismissed as too gnarly when
we had looked at them the day before. Now,
in almost total darkness, Salman decided he
was going to skate the biggest one. With the
young bucks cowering on the sidelines,
Salman, the 27-year-old veteran, former
Skater of the Year, and godfather of switch-
stance, attacked the monster bar. A few tries
later there was the slap of wheels on con-
crete, and the frontside slider was pulled.
Even Carlos was jumping up and down.
"This is for all the fat kids!" Sal
roared triumphantly.
Among the Americans, there was a theory
going around that you couldn't eat any food
in Mexico City that had made contact with
the outside air because you would get vio-
lently ill. I didn't really put that theory to
the test, but I can tell you that the air is
really terrible and being outside gives you a
headache after awhile. Of course, you can't.
drink the water either. Also it's highly unad-
visable to eat food from street vendors,
though when you see a giant spool of
mystery meat rotating slowly next to a
dumpster, you may not be able to resist.
On the last night, after several failed
attempts to order a pizza, Ig and Salman
decided to take their chances with some
street tacos. Salman, eater of ram, was
unaffected. Ig, a man of actual Mexican
descent, was nary so lucky. His final hours
over Mexican soil were spent in the lava-
tory. Occupado. Viva el Montezuma!
Below: With a bellyful of cabritos, Big Sal
frontside boardslid his way into the heavy-
weight record book. Right: You could have fried an
egg on the concrete at Guanacacha. Either that, or on
Seber's sunburned forehead-except that he was
moving all around, frontside flippin' and whatnot.
ANS