Squat cuts: NYC.

Winter is here in full force and you know what that means: we gotta take it indoors. People always call me to see if I want to skate (read: get me to drive them to) one of the many indoor training parks that are now everywhere. You know, give 10 bucks to some bladermom, dust off the old helmet and try busting a switch crooks on a flatrail and a kickflip on the bank for the sick filmed glory line. I mean come on, I know you have to train for Tampa, but is this how it's going down?

We got this spot in the Big Apple that's kept real for sure. In a neighborhood called Alphabet City that's becoming more sanitized and expensive everyday, there's a run down apartment building-turned-squat that my man Seth has had since 1989. Past the militant looking guys on the stoop, through the dark halls saturated in spray-painted pentagrams, floors covered with dead vermin, trash, and puke stains, sits a killer ramp that's built perfectly too tight. Insane sessions and parties go down often for those in the know.

Besides the skaters, locals include a couple tattoo-on-the-face dudes, creepers junkies hot punk rock chicks...we're talking '80s skate movie here. You want to skate it? First you have to find it, then you have to know someone, then you should cough something up. Don't show up with a 40-ounce man- that ain't cool. Try a case of beer or some nugs...I don't know, be creative. Offer up some soap; how about a home tattoo kit or some stolen sandwiches?

Now you're in, don't blow it! It's time to get this party started!