Award tour: world team in Colorado.

WHEN YOU WRITE you're supposed to keep your intended audience in mind. That could very well be the first rule of journalism, I don't know. I wasn't a journalism major in college. I went to art school, and only for one year at that. I learned about the history of chair design. At one point I could tell an Art Deco chair from an Art Nouveau chair. "See that chair?" I'd say, "That's a Mise Van Der Roe rip-off." Sadly, like most of what I learned at art school, this incredibly useful skill has slipped from my grasp. Perhaps rule number two is to never get bogged down in useless digressions, particularly in the opening paragraph. Once again, I don't know.

CAST AND CREW

HERE'S A LITTLE PERTINENT INFO before I carry on with my overly wordy, meandering account of some very simple events: I went to Denver and Boulder with the World Industries team. I think you're supposed to get the really important stuff out at the top so that the editor can cut from the bottom. I think the other reason is to accommodate impatient readers, or readers with exceedingly busy lives that only have time for the absolute bare bones of a story. So if you're still reading you're either one of those dear patient souls with nothing better to do or you're a friend or relative of mine who feels compelled to read every word I manage to get published.

JASON JONES 

Times are tough for young ams in these topsy-turvy days; it's become hard to make an impression. But Jason managed to make one, yet not without stepping on a few toes. Reports circulated threatening a ban in another skate mag at the urging of Heath and Berra. Fortunately cooler heads prevailed, and such drastic measures were not enforced. The whole scenario has left Jason shell-shocked. When we visited the infamous Mims rail Jason assured us that he could grind the rail but didn't want to since he would be "hated on" for doing so.

CARLOS DE ANDRADE

Baby Omar is a welcome addition to any skate trip. Like Shecks, he doesn't take up too much space, literally. He hardly ever complains, which is no small matter on the road. The space one occupies in the van can seem to grow proportionately with the amount of complaing they do. He's never combative or aggressive; all he really wants to do is skateboard, smoke marijuana and talk about girls. Carlos was also kind enough to give me a ride to and from the airport. Nice one, Carlos.

SCOTT CHRISTIANSEN

By far the quietest one of the group, Scott was somewhat of a permanent backbencher along with Jason. Although he was no doubt quite capable on the rails, Scott turned out to be the designated hitter in the tech department. When we got to any sort of ledge spot, big or small, it was more or less expected that Scott was supposed to get a trick on it. All eyes were on him. Scott also suffered severe badgering from the filmer on the trip. More on that dude later.

JIMMY ASTLEFORD

Whenever Jimmy skates big drops or takes severe slams he pees blood the next day. He's not exactly sure why, but the day after his body takes a beating his urine is roughly the color of cranberry punch. Hey World Industries: When does Jimmy's medical coverage kick in? He's in desperate need of a urologist. Never one to let a minor medical condition (troubling as it may seem) stand in his way, Jimmy skated hard and even managed to romance one of the local skategirls, just to be sure everything was in working order.

RYAN SHECKLER 

Little Shecks is starting to grow up. Gone are the days of helmets, kneepads, and benihanas. He's still got the Pappas-esque kickflip Christ air in his back pocket come contest time, but don't make the mistake of writing this kid off as some sort of skatepark oddity. Commander Shecklebottoms is taking it to the raw streets in 2003. And with those snappy distressed denim jeans and a fashionable elfin haircut, he's doing it in style. Numbered among his enviable portfolio of endorsement contracts is Boost Mobile, the Australian pay-as-you-go cell phone company. Boost provides Ryan with a free cell phone and free minutes, as many as the little guy wants. He can call Iceland during primetime for hours at a time and it doesn't cost him a thing. This alone made Ryan an invaluable commodity, or addition rather, on the trip. Whether it was Jason calling his special lady-friend or me chatting with a girl I met on makeoutclub.com, Ryan happily handed over his phone to whomever asked. Well ... happily at first. Then somewhat begrudgingly, but it never took much coaxing. He even let Jimmy take the Boost phone for an entire evening but only after Jimmy shotgunned a beer. Ryan recorded the shotgun, and the subsequent regurgitation, with his digital camera. If he starts to shoot episodes like this with a Lieca he just might start taking out artsy skateboarding photographers.

I'VE BEEN TOLD by industry insiders that the largest demographic in skateboarding is 13-year-old males. I'm trying to picture little Ryan Sheckler sitting down and reading one of my articles. "Gretchen, what does 'digression' mean? And who is Mise Van Der Roe?" he'd ask his morn, If those figures are accurate, then it's fair to say that a statistically insignificant number of you have heard of the classic '80s skateboard movie Thrashin', starring Josh Brolin as the underdog protagonist who has to prove both his skateboard abilities and his intestinal fortitude to a surly leather-clad skategang, fronted by a Clooney-esque anti-hero named Hook. I don't have stats on how many readers have subscriptions or read every issue, so I don't know how many of you might remember the Anatomy spread (for the absent minded and forgetful, Anatomy is the feature where funny fictional quotes and humorous observations are sprinkled liberally around some scene or other. Sort of a literary 'fart joke;" crude, yet entertaining) from a few issues back. It was a photo from the movie set of Thrashin'. It was the starting line of the infamous LA Massacre, a full contact downhill race that serves as the climax of this fine film. At any rate, what makes Thrashin' just as relevant today as it was in the '80s isn't the fact that tight jeans and leather jackets are once again at the height of skate fashion, nor is it the vague resemblance that Long Neck Dave shares with the character Boseman; it's the true-to-life depiction of conflict between locals and outsiders.

HOOKED ON JIMBONICS

Jimmy is a character. To begin with he talks louder than almost anyone I know, so when he's trying to chat with his ear buds in it's almost deafening. On top of this, he hardly ever completes an entire sentence using stock words. He's developed his own lexicon. DC filmer Sean Rogers calls Jimmy's custom repertoire Jimbonics. Here's a sampling (definitions are provided by Jimmy):

Tangy--Synonym for "great" Worms--Girls Scabs--Skatepark sluts Give'er--To work hard Barracooter--Shaved section Shecklenuts--Ryan Sheckler Kaida--The preferred smoke Swiss--Switch stance Hatching--Getting upset The Shocker--Two in the pink, one in the stink Koof--Kook/goof Milky--Wasted Jammin'--Having sex Chops--Mauls (tobacco and marijuana smoked in a bong) Fried Zucchini--Someone whose brain is not very bright

LUCKILY WE WERE SPARED from having to engage in any jousting and no one burned any ramps to the ground, but we did feel the sting of being unappreciated, unloved and unwanted. And isn't that one hundred times worse? Of course, as with nearly every Hollywood production, the ending is unrealistically upbeat. In the film (and I'm sorry to ruin the plot for those of you who haven't seen Thrashin', but it's necessary for the sake of illustration), Josh Brolin becomes instantly accepted by his nemesis after winning the big downhill race. In reality, skating really well in front of people that don't like you does nothing to mend the proverbial fences. If anything, it makes matters worse. The World team skated really well; this article is proof of that. Jimmy's noseslide didn't win us any friends.

Here's what happened: SoCal Bureau Chief Mike Burnett set this trip up with World Industries team manager Tom Curran. Mike was initially supposed to go himself but had a scheduling conflict, so I stepped in at the last minute. Burnett, being the organized fellow that he is, gave Tom and I a list of spots and the numbers of a couple of guys who could show us around. We phoned Burnett's contacts (Sean and Jared) the first night we arrived but neither of them were reachable. Everyone was feeling pretty sparked so we checked out the public park downtown. There we met up with a few ripping locals. As luck would have it they even had a generator. We skated until the lights went out--suddenly and without warning. But we still had energy, so we went and checked out a few skatespots with the locs. The next night we did the same.

On the third day we got a hold of Sean. Sean runs a shop called Emage. The guys who had been showing us around were from a shop called 303. We had unwittingly stepped right in the middle of a bitter shop rivalry. The 303 crew must have labeled us turncoats (although, I think they had another more colorful term for it). Much like the members of The Daggers in Thrashin', the 303 dudes were downright great skateboarders. The session we witnessed at the BA rail was sufficient proof of that. Dudes were flying everywhere. Massive frontside flips down the stairs, feebles, lips and back 50s down the rail.

Shop Battles

IT WAS CHAOS, AND THAT WAS THE PROBLEM. As fun as it was to watch the wolf pack destroy the spot, it wasn't very conducive to documentation, at least not to someone with my cumbersome methods. As soon as I would set a flash up I had to move it so that someone could film their line.

When we were given the option to go out with a smaller crew, we took it. Abandonment issues are very common, ask any psychiatrist. But what made matters worse was that we ended up bumping into our ex-tour guides at one of the local hotspots. Busted! We had been at this little nine-stair rail for almost an hour when the 303 crew rolled up. I had just finished shooting, but there was still some filming in progress. Some of the 303 dudes started skating. Of course Long Neck admonished them with all of the tact of a mongoose. "Can you not skate here 'til we're done?" Or something along those lines.

Well, it's one thing to curry the favor of the locals in order to get access to their spots, only to discard them like a broken board, but to then dictate when and where they can skate in their own town? Well, that borders on outrageous. The dynamic was further complicated because some of our crew had befriended some of their crew, and Jimmy had humped a girl who was probably somebody's ex, so there was a sort of Capulet-Montague thing happening too. Stories circulated about how lame we were, and some of the 303 took to mad dogging us at the park.

In the streets, your word is your bond and all you got is your boys. Luckily Jared and Sean had our backs and we managed to escape without anyone tossing jacks in the bowl during a run. Thanks go out to both the 303 and Emage shops. Let's increase the peace in the Mile High City.

Home-Town Heroes

Every town has its local legends. I've heard tell that Jereme Rogers swears to Jesus Christ almighty that there has never been a better skateboarder than Boston's own Mike Graham. Yeah, well, Denver is no exception. Outrageous stories about Dave "The Dave" Davis abound. "Dave frontside flipped this... Dave ollied this... Dave grinded this... Dave 360 flip lipslid this rail with no filmer..." Damn, Natural Koncepts. Get a filmer out here pronto! Dave's ready to finish his part off.

The Denver Dicks

A WHILE AGO Thrasher's own Michael Burnett turned 30. A get together was held to honor the occasion and although I arrived too late to witness Daniel Harold Sturt's birthday Andrecht, I did catch some festivities, which included but was not limited to Mike making fun of my haircut, and the watching of a video called "The Boulder Dicks." It was a documentary of a road trip that Mike and some friends from Boulder, Colorado had gone on. The concept of the trip was this: Everyone had to draw a mystery trick from a hat, and they had until the end of the two-week trip to complete the trick. Those who were unable or unwilling came home with lovely gold earrings.

As a tribute to Mike and the Dicks I decided I would have the World follow suit, albeit in a white bread sort of way. No one faced the shame of piercing, but everyone gave their trick an honest effort all the same, even if they'd never heard of a "slob air" before. Now without further adieu, I present the Denver Dicks! (The members of which are actually from California, Canada, and Brazil.)