Rob Gnollie nosegrinds for Montoya, t
Ogler, and all the heads back in the LBC
YOU'VE GOT MAIL
You've Got Mail is a romantic comedy starring
Meg Ryan, America's sweetheart (unless, of
course, you're among those who feels Renee
Zellweger has taken this spot), that was playing on
HBO the week we were on tour. It's a woman's
film, although I'm sure some men have enjoyed it
too. As we checked into rooms late at night, in
who knows what city, we would catch snippets of
this film as we channel-surfed our way into slum-
ber. One morning in Salt Lake, it was well past
noon, yet none of us had come out to rouse the
rest into action. In our room, The Dude and I
were well into You've Got Mail, having caught it
from the beginning, and were content to wait for
the others to get things going for a change. A half
hour later, I finally decided to see what everyone
else was waiting for. I discovered that in each of
the four rooms were pairs of grown men gathered
intently around Meg and her romantic missteps.
No one moved until the happy redfaced ending.
RYAN JOHNSON
90 THRASHER
Ryan Johnson is completely
unflappable. His enthusiasm rarely
wanes, although it is not unfailing, as
I once suspected. RJ lives in Fresno, a truly
terrible place according to some, and does
not own a car. He basically operates from
trip to trip, spending the interim skating
pools, listening to reggae music on his
porch, and hanging out with his girlfriend, a
forest-fire fighter. Anyone who's ever met RJ
knows how easy he is conversationally, and
many innocent bystanders on this trip found
themselves in the midst of hearty greetings
and autograph signings before they even
realized what was going on. But for all his
verve, RJ needs private time like anyone else.
One day in Salt Lake City, he stayed behind.
in the hotel room, presumably meditating,
until 5 PM, at which point we picked him up
so he could grind a 20-plus stair rail down
the side of a hill. After stomping out a quick
50-50, he requested we drop him back off.
I'd imagine Muhammed Ali might have been
the same way.
Salt Lake ripper Mike Hays han-
dles a bar-clearing backside flip
without sketching and without the
aid of the Sacred Undergarment.
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