Barcelona gangster situations

Thrasher Magazine, Jan, 2005 by Patrick O'Dell

I HAD BEEN IN A SLUMP. The devil had me in his grip, and I felt like I was being swallowed by darkness. This is a common feeling I think, and perfectly natural, to be unhappy and feel as though you could never be happy again. But rather than the usual and painful exorcism, I knew that skateboarding could pull me out--as it always had in the past. Maybe a skateboard trip. I dreamt of a vacation to somewhere nice, bright, and warm. I no longer could let myself take strange pleasure from misery and isolation. Maybe I'm being too dreary--but I say this only because I'm sure there are a great many of you out there that feel the very same way and have found a solution in skateboarding.

Although this story took me overseas, I'm sure a trip to a ditch just outside of town will bring some goodness and tranquility to you just as well.

FOR WEEKS I WAS RECEIVING EMAIL MESSAGES from Chan (pronounced Shawn) inviting me to Barcelona. She said, "Spanky, Herman and Ali will be there, too." It was bizarre to me that Chan would know who Ali was. I looked at airfare prices and they were far too expensive. I asked Emerica to buy me a ticket, but Justin wasn't into it. And Thrasher has decided that it is always a sponsor's job to send photographers places. I even asked Jerry to see if Osris would send us together, but Jerry had later'd his neck on a footplant. Just when I had disappointedly resigned myself to spending another two weeks staying up all night and sleeping all through the day, Chan offered to pay half my ticket.

Chan is an amazing singer and I have always been a fan of hers. Even after becoming friends, I am still star-struck when she's around. When I lived in San Francisco I listened to her record Moon Pix with reverence. She releases her records as Cat Power, and I strongly recommend that everyone out there should find her music.

She was in Barcelona to record some songs and Kevin and Bryan were in town to skate after the European contest circuit. Chan had brought her friend Anne Laure, a French woman who writes books and loves horses.

WE STAYED AT THE HOTEL ORIENTE across the street from the Plaza Reial. The Plaza has a fountain in the center and at night is always filled with tourists, mostly teenagers, while Moroccan men try to sell them roses or beer. On the street there are black prostitutes and drunk Swedes. Skateboarders are there too. I have never seen so many skaters in my life.

In the afternoons Chan and Anne would go to the beach while Herman, Kevin and I would go skating. It was almost too hot to skate (if there is such a thing). Our clothes were soaked with sweat just from thinking of skateboarding. We would go to MACBA and see who was skating, maybe Jon Newport, Alex Castaneda, Ali Boulala, Lee Smith, Satva Leung, Jason Masse, Kenny Reed or Paul Shier, along with a crowd of people I didn't recognize. I asked Alex to point out the skaters who were actually from Barcelona--there were very few locals compared to the travelers.

Traveling is a thing skateboarders should consider as blessings. You should always welcome out-of-towners to your spots, and never be a lame territorial skater, of which there are many across the world. If you welcome skaters to your home you will be welcomed in return when you go to their homes. Alex Castaneda is a gracious host, and if he ever makes it to Ohio I'll return the favor by taking him to Dodge.

The heat was bright and crippling. My camera bag's weight was insufferable, but I love Spain so it's dumb to complain and worth any small amount of torture. However, there are two "coincidences" I always notice in Spain. One is that whenever I set my camera bag down beside me to shoot a skateboard picture, random men in shabby clothing happen to stop and watch the skateboarding from, coincidentally, right next to me. It's as if they're thinking, "I'm going to watch this magical sport right now, and I will watch from the same vantage point as this photographer and all his cameras and lenses, because that must logically be the best angle."

Another "coincidence" is that vendors will give me change that is less than what they owe, and when I point this out they make an "Oh, I'm sorry, my mistake" face, then they give me the rest. Fortunately, with Euros being so easy to count, this "mistake" is easier to catch than it used to be.

At night Chan would buy us dinner. I would sometimes offer to pay but she would say, "No, put that away. Stop being mean!" She also says "I'm sorry" or "Are you mad at me?" with such frequency I think it might be compulsive. Once I finally yelled back: "No! I have never once been mad at you ever! What would make you think that?" She replied: "I can feel these things through my veins like antennas."

"YOUR VEINS ARE GETTING BAD RECEPTION HERE," I said. "They have no bars under these trees!" I meant "bars" as in a cell phone lingo (she liked that), and she asks far less now.

We went to some crazy heavy metal bar one night. In this bar you write the song you want to hear on a piece of paper and hand it to someone in a booth. The albums are written on sheets of paper taped all over the walls. I wrote "Last Caress" by the Misfits and "My Michelle" by Guns 'N' Roses, thinking that those were some classic jams, but knew I was just an amateur when "Taste of My Scythe" by Children of Bodom came on! In my excitement I leaped right up and started taking photos of the air thinking, "I can't wait to show these pictures to the boys back home!" Then I realized that songs don't show up in pictures.