90s Vignettes
“SD, SF, LA, - it didn’t matter. All of us flocking to California had one common denominator: to
be closer to the thing we loved. As kids we didn’t really have the life skills to be undertaking
such a move, but as skaters we spontaneously dived in and came up breathing.
No cellphones, no internet. Simpler times for sure.”
- John Drake, Alien house resident.
be closer to the thing we loved. As kids we didn’t really have the life skills to be undertaking
such a move, but as skaters we spontaneously dived in and came up breathing.
No cellphones, no internet. Simpler times for sure.”
- John Drake, Alien house resident.
THE JAIL, THE BENIHANA AND THE FRIDGE FULL OF SODA.
The gridlock traffic at the Tijuana border was the least of our worries. Matter of fact we’re not really worried about anything. Not that one of us is on the roof of the car or about the dog hidden in the boot we’d found on Rosarito beach and are smuggling back into the US.
The 1996 trip was one big ‘Get out of jail free’ card. Literally.
With the roof surfer back inside the car, we breeze through the border, thanks to our driver’s smooth talking. The dog is now officially an illegal immigrant.
Our temporary residence is an above average student house in La Jolla and the home of three girls who believe having us crashing in their lounge is a good idea. They call the dog ‘Pacifica’ due to it’s like of the Mexican beer of the same (albeit masculine) name.
Once imbedded in the San Diego student lifestyle, the hours of skating achieved could be counted on one hand. We’re aware of the infamous ‘Alien house’ a few blocks from us and witness a few Dyrdek meltdowns, the most memorable when he focuses his board and drives off leaving his filmer at a spot, but skating at this point was very low priority. Sinking into a life of ‘American Pie’ fraternity parties, students held upside down doing keg stands becomes normal. It’s among this chaos we learn of a scam only requiring a vending machine and bottle of soapy water. Putting it to the test in a deserted Mission beach parking lot, water is squirted through the money slot while the buttons are pressed simultaneously. To our surprise, the machine shakes violently and shorts out, emptying itself of cash and cans and secures a few weeks on the couch by stocking the fridge with soda and snacks. A blonde skater by the name of Josh enrols himself in our drinking club. After teaching him stationary Fs half cab carpet flips, he does the unthinkable and takes them straight to a ten stair. Applying this Evel Knievel technique to his skating and with word travelling fast that he’s 360 flipped the Carlsbad gap, it’s not long before Rodney Mullen shows up on his doorstep unannounced and puts him on bLind.
The 1996 trip was one big ‘Get out of jail free’ card. Literally.
With the roof surfer back inside the car, we breeze through the border, thanks to our driver’s smooth talking. The dog is now officially an illegal immigrant.
Our temporary residence is an above average student house in La Jolla and the home of three girls who believe having us crashing in their lounge is a good idea. They call the dog ‘Pacifica’ due to it’s like of the Mexican beer of the same (albeit masculine) name.
Once imbedded in the San Diego student lifestyle, the hours of skating achieved could be counted on one hand. We’re aware of the infamous ‘Alien house’ a few blocks from us and witness a few Dyrdek meltdowns, the most memorable when he focuses his board and drives off leaving his filmer at a spot, but skating at this point was very low priority. Sinking into a life of ‘American Pie’ fraternity parties, students held upside down doing keg stands becomes normal. It’s among this chaos we learn of a scam only requiring a vending machine and bottle of soapy water. Putting it to the test in a deserted Mission beach parking lot, water is squirted through the money slot while the buttons are pressed simultaneously. To our surprise, the machine shakes violently and shorts out, emptying itself of cash and cans and secures a few weeks on the couch by stocking the fridge with soda and snacks. A blonde skater by the name of Josh enrols himself in our drinking club. After teaching him stationary Fs half cab carpet flips, he does the unthinkable and takes them straight to a ten stair. Applying this Evel Knievel technique to his skating and with word travelling fast that he’s 360 flipped the Carlsbad gap, it’s not long before Rodney Mullen shows up on his doorstep unannounced and puts him on bLind.
Without question the ‘Benihana’ will always be the skateboarding elephant in the room. The mere thought of one is enough to blemish the culture permanently. However, in it’s defence and witnessing one live, made second try and down a set of 9 stairs while traversing a ‘cold war era’ sized concrete hubba had us on it’s side for a few minutes. When Josh claims it, we agree to light it up and avoiding security, meet at 11:30pm at UCSD. No sooner than the spot is lit, he makes it next try and secures another three seconds of his Trilogy part. Benihana or not, this is reason enough to celebrate. The following night we head back to Tijuana.
“Tits and pussy, you can touch!” We pass up the generous offerings by the many Mexican pimps that loiter the Wednesday race track of cheap bars and University girls, heading back to the border in the wee hours. An officer pulls me from the line and into an office before closing the door. Interrogated in Spanish, I don’t understand a word said to me and get thrown into a cell. Sitting motionless and delirious, my new unsavoury inmate friends eyeball me and an hour of dread and worry passes. Spotting a US marine, I plead for help through the bars as he passes, but he ignores my whimpers. This sobering scenario has me shaken to my core and with no idea of my rights, I’m now at the mercy of the Mexican police, or these reprobates I’m locked up with, but then, I’m surprised when a border officer hands my passport back informing me I’ve been working illegally and have to leave the US by the end of the week. His statement completely untrue, I can only stare at him confused as he shoo’s me away with the back of his hand. I’m relieved to see Josh and Alex in the waiting area. They’ve walked back into Mexico to gain access into the building. Josh informs me I could’ve avoided the last two hours when all the officer wanted was a bribe. Fifty bucks would have covered it.
Moving North after this incident, not wanting anymore run in’s in Tijuana, we call the girls a week or so later.
“Oh, hi guys, yeah we’re awesome. But Pacifica’s gone now.” Alexa speaks of the illegal Mexican dog. Fearing the worst, I imagine the poor thing has been hit by a car.
“No silly! She didn’t die.” She replies cheerily. “We just swapped her for this really cool bong.”
Moving North after this incident, not wanting anymore run in’s in Tijuana, we call the girls a week or so later.
“Oh, hi guys, yeah we’re awesome. But Pacifica’s gone now.” Alexa speaks of the illegal Mexican dog. Fearing the worst, I imagine the poor thing has been hit by a car.
“No silly! She didn’t die.” She replies cheerily. “We just swapped her for this really cool bong.”
Darren is the author of Perro Callejero (Stray Dog) and a new collection of ‘90s vignettes.
Follow him on Instagram @daz_dot_com to read more.
Follow him on Instagram @daz_dot_com to read more.