FLIP: "Fuck USA!" - skating team tours Barcelona

Thrasher Magazine, Sept, 2001 by Michael Burnett

HAVING GROWN UP WITH MEXICO (Ol' Mexico) as my primary reference point for Spanish-speaking folks, I was unsure of what to expect in Barcelona, Spain, where I went on a recent skateboarding adventure. Would it be like Tijuana? But it's near France. Would it be like a French Tijuana? I can happily report that Barcelona is much more like Paris than TJ (not that that's a bad thing, TJ fans), but with some of the same Ol' Mexican trappings I remember from my trip to Mexico City. For instance, there are loads of outdoor cafes and squares, but there is also a lingering sewery smell that hits you every five minutes or so. Beautiful churches and monuments dot the cityscape, and yet, if you look up in admiration for too long, there is a very good chance you will step in a fresh dog turd. "And costarring...Dog Feces!" was one of the working titles of this story that never quite got past the musing stage, but the role of abandoned stool was heavy in much of our Spanish adventure; it's everywhere. They have big teams tha t use fire hoses to spray down the streets at night and dog owners are required to pay hefty pet-registration fees to cover the expense. Not that a little scat outweighs the grandeur of the city. You need only gaze upon the fantastic Temple Expiation de la Sagrada Familia to know you are very, very far from Kansas City, or Oklahoma City, or San Bernardino, or any of the other shit-house American cities. Barcelona is an amazing place.

So this was a skate trip with the Flip team; the Fearsome Flip Team! All you regular kids out in skateboardland probably know how gnarly the Flip boys are, but what you may not know is that they seem to inspire the same fear and wonder from their peers. Other pro skaters are scared of what the Flip team is doing--not because they fear for Arto or Geoff's safety, but 'cause they're scared for their own.

"Great, now I have to kill myself," they say after seeing the latest Vans ad or whatever.

"You better not take them to my spots!" they threaten me.

Other pros try to get me to reveal the Flip team's secrets. "How does Geoff make himself do that stuff?" they demand.

I never have any answers. Who knows what makes people push themselves in such foolhardy pursuits? What I can tell you is that neither malice nor spite appears to be a motivating factor in any of their maneuvers. These kids are skilled and driven--Geoff's kind of nuts--but they're not out to get you.

But back to the feces. All Boulala, Flip superstar recluse, joined us in Barcelona with his personal biographer Mr. Hand. The feces part came from Boulala's dog, Sid, who also came along. Though a very sweet dog, a spotty discipline regimen has turned Sid into a bit of a loose cannon in the behavior department. Likewise, erratic feedings have made him snappish. Pretty much any food-like item was fair game for Sid, who spent a good portion of his time rifling through trash and sampling random gutter bits in search of sustenance. You could be relaxing with a nice sandwich and have it snatched from your hand and gulped down before you knew what was happening. At one point Sid was brought into a restaurant with us and quickly leapt onto a neighboring table and helped himself to a taste of another patron's entree. Did I mention that Sid bites? He bit an old woman walking down the street one day, and pretty much bit Boulala and the rest of us continuously throughout the trip. He also tracked some fresh droppings ( stuck to his tail, who knew?) onto my bed, pillow, hands, and neck one morning. Boulala thought this was the funniest thing he had seen in his life.

Bastien, Geoff, Appleyard, Boulala, Mr. Hand, and Fred the French Filmer were the crew. Arto came in for one day but was too hurt to go out with us. On the second day we met up with Barcelona resident Enrique Lorenzo, who joined our entourage as tour guide and resident ripper.

Longtime readers will remember Enrique's "What Would You Do?" game from my trip with the then-World Industries team to Europe in the summer of '98. It basically involves pondering your reaction to fantastic imaginary situations, usually involving bizarre incestuous couplings. Example: "What would you do if you came home and found your father in bed with your brother?" It was of non-stop entertainment to Enrique back then and when I pressed him for an updated version he quickly answered, "What would you do if you got cloned and your clone was gay? What would you do?! That would be flicked up!" Priceless. Enrique is always in a good mood and has hundreds of jokes memorized, making him a perfect road trip partner.

Barcelona is lousy with spots and the Spanish people have adopted the radical belief that public space is to be used by the public in whatever way they deem suitable. The boys skated beautiful marble blocks in front of the Museum of Modern Art, steps of hundreds-of-years-old marble aside ancient churches, public parks, banks, ledges, and gaps, without interference and for as long as they liked. In the week-and-a-half in Barcelona, we only get kicked out of a spot once. Once! Additionally, a tradition of interesting architecture results in naturally occurring banks, hips, and pyramids all over the city.