Later'D II or how I got spanked by Tampa: 2003 Tampa Am contest report.

THE ORIGINAL LATER'D CREW of Anthony Shetler, Nick Dompierre, Jon Hoisington, ahd filmer Seamius Deagan had come from New England to pick me up in New York on the way to DC. In DC I got the flu and refused to shoot any photos. Nick and Anthony apparently killed the gold rail, although I wasn't there to confirm this: But whatever, they're Lukewarms--big shit, right? The second night in DC, the Lukewarms got in our van to go pick up the Hotcrew at the airport. Arriving was Billy Marks, Tony Silva, Josh Harmony, and Etnies Team Manager Dave Hoang. The rivalry began immediately. We picked them up and they rented their Hotcrew ride and Boom! The first blow is dealt by the California kids; Nick Dompierre betrays us. The little shit is like "I'm going to ride with these guys." an Insta-traitor! He never looked back for a second; it was as if he said "I'm Hotcrew now." The Later'd fellowship was broken. On the way out of the terminal we wrote "Die Hotcrew" on the window of the van. Josh was like "What did you guys me an by 'Hotcrew?'". They didn't even know about the rivalry yet.

ON THE DRIVE SOUTH the next day, Nick threw a hot chocolate at us from out their window. We were just shocked. "Look at Benedict Arnold over there! He's dead!" I think we threw some pizza next. I threw an entire order of noodles on their windshield. Then they bought paintballs. a wristrocket, and a dozen eggs. Pretty soon we were getting constantly Later'd, so much so that we began to ask ourselves with indifference "Did we just get Later'd?" It was amusing to us that they thought they could scare us with some eggs and paintballs. We had larger things in mind, and we never once made an effort to clean the van. That was a rule. No matter how much trash piled on the floor, no matter that we couldn't see out the window, if anyone was caught cleaning the van or even making a gesture of organization, it was like "What are you doing? Are you a maid or something?" It got so bad that it was perpetually dark in there and you couldn't move your feet without stepping on some random sticker, Wendy's frosty shake, gum, or a beer can. I think the first diabolical revenge attack we made was the gas chamber. We stopped at a fireworks store and bought a few large smoke bombs. At the next rest stop, we all got out of the van and faked like we wanted to eat, and then fake-changed our minds and said "Let's keep driving." Then we waited for them to get back in their van. Once they were in, everyone kept them busy with small talk while I lit the smoke bomb. I threw it in the van and we slammed their doors shut and held them closed. I could see through the window the smoke starting to rise and everyone just looking at it like "What the...?" It wasn't for 30 seconds or so until the smoke got really thick and they all scrambled to get out, but we just held the doors shut until the van was completely filled. All I could see were their hands on the windows struggling to find breathable air. Finally Josh figured out how to roll them down. When we heard him yell "I can't breathe" we began to feel bad and finally let them out If the Hotcrew d ied, who would I shoot photos of? Within seconds of Billy's release, he had another smoke bomb lit and had thrown it into our van. In all the blind suffocation of the gas chamber, Billy had instinctively hatched a counter attack. Josh told me later that we got them so good it was worth the years we shaved off his life.

OH YEAH. We got Carrie to take a bus down to meet us. I guess it was cool having her around, but with her presence came an entire procession of random skate dudes. So I had her in our room, and she was even giving me a back rub, but flicking random dudes kept coming in. Like these guys I kind of know are all of a sudden like "Hey, Patrick, dude, what's going on?" Trust me, if Carrie wasn't around they wouldn't have been lined up at the foot of the bed drooling. So I had to make them all leave; it was worth having Carrie leave to get those 'tards out of my room. I didn't see Carrie all that much more. At one point she was stabbing a tree with a knife 'cause some chick that works at Big Brother apparently stole some photos of her. I don't know the whole story arid didn't want to.

On an unrelated note, one night, me and crew went to a goth bar down in Ybor and got all gothic. I even did a limp-around dance, it was like one of those insurance fraud tapes. By day, too hurt to shoot skate photos (I'll explain later), but by night, dancing to Bauhaus.

BILLY MARKS IS A MENACE, a cloud of trouble. I love it. Everywhere we went we had a trail of angry cops, jocks, and innocent bystanders wanting to kill us because of his hijinx. In a hotel in St Augustine Florida, Billy broke into an empty room adjacent to ours and covered the walls with pages from porno magazines and paintballs, threw tons of lit fireworks into the pool, stuffed up the toilet... The next morning the cops woke us up and threw us out. Dave Hoang had to pay for the extra room and all the damages. Dave was a little bummed, so at breakfast he treated everyone to rounds of Jager. I wish everyone handled their anger like that. After the drinks, we headed to the St Augustine skatepark. That place was epic; everyone was killing it. I saw an amazing photo op--it was all these 40-something longboard barneys skating the kiddie bowls above which was a sign that said in huge Letters "12 and under only." But before I got around to taking the photo I rolled my ankie trying to skate one of the hubba ledges. Oh well, it was perfect timing 'cause we were headed to Tampa that day for the contest, and God knows [pounds] didn't want to be shooting photos there, Instead I let the professional Michael Burnett handle it. I outfitted my crutch with a beer coozy and relaxed all weekend. I got DJ Peril to give me and Andrew Reynolds G-bags, and we had our respective bro-sessions--his playing mostly Hanoi Rocks,. and mine Guns N' Roses and Children of Boredom. When I got back to the hotel that night the kids were in full tilt. One especially crazed individual named Sully decided that tonight was the perfect night to start drinking. They were throwing beers into the pool and lighting fireworks. It was a nightmare. I started to get pissed. Nick, Billy, and Sully lit a 25-foot firework--it went off for four minutes, right in front of the door. It just kept blowing up: this is at 4:00 am. After it was done the skaters at the hotel let out a cheer and the crackheads came out to kick ass. So we latched the door and waited in dark silence with bottles in our hands while four huge dudes tried to kick in the windows and doors yelling at us to come out so they could shoot and kill us. It wasn't a very convincing argument. They said "The cops are coming, so you better come out!" I was like "Fine, I'll wait for them." So the cops came and at first were dicks, but after awhile were cool about it. We just had to leave the hotel. So we crossed the street and all piled into a new room; I made Sully pay for it.

I THINK BURNETT wrote the "real" Tampa Am article, but let me give you what I think: Spanky is my favorite skater, at least top-10; he skates so good and with so much style. Billy Skated like shit in his run. Well, he skated good, he just looked like shit. You could tell he hadn't slept.

I started to bug out. I had to leave. I just rounded up the Later'd crew and we got out of town. After leaving, Billy won best trick. I guess that night at the hotel the crackheads found Nick and Billy. I don't know what they were thinking going back to the first hotel. From what I understand, one of them punched Nick in the face, and another threw Billy across the hotel room and into the wall. And then they locked Billy in the room. I guess it got really sketchy and Jim Greco of all people called the police and said "I'd like to report a kidnapping." The cops came and said "There's like 20 of you guys, why don't you just beat them up?"

I'd like to thank Dave Hoang and Etnies for putting up the funds for this trip. Seriously, I don't know what they're thing. I'd like to thank Duff McKagen for being drum wise, and Eric Payne for going to the bar after the Andrew WK show and saying "I'd like to buy like, 18 beers." Thanks to Craig Metzger for funding the trip too; and if he couldn't handle last year's trip there is no way he would have lived through this one.

RELATED ARTICLE: TOTALLY LATER'D SIDEBAR

Can you imagine doing the gnarliest trick you can for the mag, you know, something big with a lot of bodily risk, and then having it run 3 inches high amid a collage of twenty other photos? I bet it'd suck! These guys know, cause it just happened to them. Sorry, bros. The shots are good they just didn't fit so well so we had to dump them in the opening spread. Place them, that is, we placed them in the opening spread. Not dump. Here's your captions.