"History is just as ill determined as the future, so what's the problem with going through life with your vectors pointed backward instead of forward?"

-Richard Meltzer

Anyhow, this asshole (Clon as I will refer to him from here on out) was seated next to us as we were finishing our meal. He was seated across the table, to my left, and next to me was this powderpuff I had gone to school with in New Mexico, his name is Pear. Pear and I had had some differences in our youth. We had become enemies through habit, I was a skater and he was, well his name is Pear, you figure it out. Pear hung out with funny kids that liked to wear trench coats and loafers, they listened to the Cure and Morrissey, yet they were always strapped with high-powered firearms. Which left the rest of us in the dirt as what to do with these little men. Needless to say I was supprised to see him in Portland, and felt bad that I, according to the ideals of the proprietors, had to "break bread" with this loser. Clon, his partner, bore a striking resemblance to Pear's friends back home, fem thugs. Clon took an immediate disliking to me, and I to him.

I tried to get the check, as Pear broke into conversation with me. Same Olds, how are you, oh you are married, oh I remember you, did you hear what happened to her, I am so glad I'm not there, BLAH, PUKE, BLAH, PUKE, SMELL MY FEET, FUCK YOU, BLAH... It turned out Pear had heard of some unfortunate happenings having to do with my friends mountain climbing in Tibet -- frostbite and so forth. He asked me for details and I obliged. I explained their circumstances, and to my amazement Clon was the most distinguished mountaineer in the Northwest. LUCKY ME!!! Clon then began telling me, in his ass-ertive tone, that my friends deserved to die, they were tourists (I guess Clon figures only people from New Mexico are considered tourists in Tibet) BLAH BLAH. Where was that fucking waiter with my bill? Clon was relentless in his bantering and knowledge of ass-anine facts, I began to get a little upset, then more, then Clon's voice was a merely a train of violence surging through my blood. I wanted to kill him. I remarked to my wife, who consequently was being told to shut up by our new and worst enemy, that we needed to leave or "I was going to slug this asshole."

As I walked Outside Clon followed very closely, closer than I thought. I had not stepped 6 inches out the door when Clon grabbed my hood and "hoodwinked" me.
Stats as of 3.8.2000:
Severe Concussion
Broken Nose
Deviated Septum
Right eye swollen shut
Right clavicle bone broken (eye socket)
Little finger on Right hand Broken

I will never see him again.

2. Sometime in July 1997. I was drinking at a bar in New Mexico with some friends. We got loaded and some asshole made the decision to get some coke. Upon leaving the bar, I pushed my drunken friend and he grabbed me by my hair and slammed my head into a parked car. Asshole.

3. One month later. A gallery opening in Santa Fe, New Mexico, Open bar. The same asshole that decided to get the coke, previously. He was loaded and HE slammed my head into a parked truck. A woman, out of her mind on the evil white beast, was there and started hitting someone, over separate matters, and was thrown into a puddle. Later she tried to accuse all those witnessing of sexual misconduct. Lawyers were brought in, and the ugliness started.

4. Madrid, Spain. July 1997
We rolled into Madrid early in the morning, like 6 or 7. I was with Bryan (my "partner" on the book) and some other chap we met on the train. We all decided to get a room together, for the sake of saving money. We had to wait all morning until we could get a room and put our stuff down. Our first job was to get to San Francisco Skate Farm, home of North Cal Distribution. Luis, the owner, is a good friend, and we needed to get some equipment. Bryan had his board stolen in Marseilles, by a lousy jerk, and we needed to resupply.

I called Luis from the room and he gave us directions to the shop. 15 minutes later we rolled into the nicest skate shop I have ever seen. Luis took us out for lunch and hooked us up with Dani, a local ripper. Dani was super cool. Dani thought we were affiliated with a big skate company, and he thought we could get him sponsored. Dani has since moved to the US and realized I am not affiliated with any skate company, so he is not so nice when I see him. Dani sucks. Dani showed us the local street spot, Plaza Colon, and we skateboarded there until our feet and bodies were nothing more than shit ready to be reformed by the miracle of sleep.

Luis had other plans. He took us out for dinner at a fine eatery in Madrid, Bocatio. We dined exquisitely. We drank beer and wine. We figured Tony Alva, Cardiel, Stranger, Shao(RIP), Peters, Adams, Kubo, and the rest of the Z's were the best skaters in the world. We had a good night.

The next morning we met with Dani and went to Alcobendas, the red mother. Alco is one of the best parks I have ever skated. Transition, cool locals, good coping, some lights, good fun.

Later that night we went to Colon for a street rip ride, We hung with the locals, smoked hash and drank beer. We played a game of futbol. We went to some bars. I had my skateboard. While on the way to the bar we drank the Spanish equivalent to 40s, Maho it was called. These loosened us up and gave everyone the right feeling. We rummaged through someone's trash and old clothes, finding the appropriate outfit for everyone. It was a sight. We invaded some bars full of Madrid's hippest, and had those in charge wondering if the lot of us had just been cut loose from the loony bin.