Conquering Spain - photo shoot of skateboarding tour

Thrasher Magazine, August, 2001 by Patrick O'Dell

Dear Thrasher,

Sorry it has taken me so long to write this article; I'm nursing a bad case of the flu that is a direct result of my trip to Spain and Portugal with some of the Osiris team. It could have to do with the drinking water. But more than likely it has to do with the physical torture that Tyrone Olson single-handedly put me through. These tortures included sleep deprivation, in the form of having to shoot skate photos at all hours of the night and morning; and sound torture, in the form of constant joking, arguing, and G-bag blaring. When I took on this job, I imagined lying on the beach, soaking in some Mediterranean sun and gazing at the topless boobies, not to mention ordering sangria on somebody else's expense account. I imagined these guys to be like many of the other jaded pro skaters I have crossed paths with, ready to pass up searching for street spots instant for a cold drink in the club. But no, this trip was nearly three weeks of pure skate survival mean, there were parties, but at the end of when everyo ne went back to the hotel to sleep. Tyrone would drag me out to shoot some gnarly handrail. And now I'm sick, with a 102-degree temperature combined with alternating shivers and sweat flashes. I've thrown up many times today. So in my ill health I will write in the standard topic-answer format. You know, I'll put something in bold face and then I'll talk about it.

The Paparazzi.

When a foreign distributor brings some pros into his country he wants to get the most for his buck, so he invites along a photographer from the country's skateboard magazine. In this case there were two photographers and a filmer from Spain's skate mag Uno. So including myself and Mark Nichols, the Osiris filmer, it meant that on any given trick there would be three photographers, up to nine flashes, two death lenses, and if Pat Simpson felt like filming that would make three video cameras. This made it really hard to do my job. Whenever I had my angle, one of those guys would put their flashes right in front of me. I constantly had to pull rank. At one point Jerry was trying something super hard and dangerous and someone was messing with their flash, so he yelled "No more fucking flashes!" Well, this ensemble became affectionately know as the paparazzi; they even rode in a separate van, and I constantly hoped we'd lose them. They were nice guys though. Kansen Russell...

Kanten Russell...

was the father figure of the trip. He is super mature and willing to get the Job done. He signed every autograph and skated every demo despite injuries. He left the trip early, and his beacon of sanity was missed.

Madrid

In Madrid one night, while most of the group went back to the hotel, Tyrone, Mark, two Spanish guys and myself headed out to shoot pictures. All of a sudden I see six or seven guys (who I thought were security guards by their tight clothes and badges) running straight for us. I didn't realize they were skinheads until it was too late and a fight was already underway. After a brief scuffle everyone ran, and fortunately for us these were no track and field Nazis. But in our escape we managed to wreak the side of the van making the side door inoperable; the only way to get in the van was by climbing over the front seat. Needless to say, this became the paparazzi's new van.

Chris Dobstaff...

is insanely hyper; if we were at a skatespot he was always the last to get in the van. You'd practically have to tackle him off his board. If he doesn't get to skate that's when he goes insane and starts biting everyone. I'm not kidding, Chris has a biting problem.

Jerry Hsu..

is definitely one of my favorite skaters. He has such a unique range of tricks with tons of style and talent to back it up. Jerry, as you may know, is a good photographer. Jerry and I had a photo war the whole trip. He was trying to collect photos for his 'zine 'Demochix' and I was working on mine called 'Skater Dater II.' Expect those to drop shortly. Jerry even wanted to take over the article writing duties from me, and now I wish I had let him.

Malage

This city didn't have too much in the way of spots, except the plaza right in front of our hotel had a really good bank. I think by this point I was rooting against finding spots. Alex Fernandez, big transfer near Malaga.

Adam & T-Bone

I kept forgetting Adam Louder was even on the trip. I'd get up in the morning and see him in the lobby and think "What is he doing here?" The reason for this is because he isn't very laud at all, and the presence of Mr. Loudest Tyrone Olson could leave an earthquake unnoticed.

Tyrone never sleeps, he never shuts up, and at the rare chance he doesn't have anything to say he turns the ever-present G-bag up full blast. Tyrone at his best can be totally hilarious; and at his worst can make you wish you were dead. Sometimes at dinner he'd say something pretty funny and I'd laugh, and then think "I just earned us another half-hour of this." Usually his humor is at the expense of some local, the waiter, a girl walking by, etc. I'm certain our food was spit in at every meal. I really like Tyrone; I'm just not sure I like being his photo bitch for two weeks straight. He always wants to skate, at 9:00 in the morning, instead of eating. One night he called my room at 3:00 AM wanting me to wake up and shoot some trick; could it wait 'til the morning? Probably, but I had to listen to a lecture about how they didn't fly me all the way to Spain to sleep. But I'll give Tyrone credit, he did some really gnarly stuff. Just wait 'til his interview drops next issue. Or maybe the one after that