Three shots Zoo York tour.

BYGONES

I WAS EXCITED TO BE INVITED ON A ZOO YORK TOUR. Even though it was meant to be a bogus demo tour with lots of driving and only a few days off, I was excited because I had never traveled with them and wanted to prove my competence. I think they doubted my professionalism. My interactions with the Zoo York team consisted mostly of me being a piled-out dude at the bar. Giovanni Reda, Zoo York's staff photographer, used to have profound dislike of me. He'd often say to people "Why do you shoot with that faggot O'Dell? His Grandfather didn't die in Brooklyn," or "He didn't get stabbed on the train." Although I do harbor some jealousy about the fact that I was never stabbed by skinheads on the subway when I was young, I make no claims that I have anything to do with New York skateboarding, other than my localization of LES bars. But all that changed one day when Giovanni saw me on the street and said "Patrick, why are you always such a dick? Why don't you walk away from me, and then come back and say hi." I walked five feet away, then paced back and said "Hi, my name's Patrick, nice to meet you." Letting bygones be bygones, Reda and I have become friends. I enjoy an occasional prank phone call from him where he pretends to be some distant Irish relative of mine in town to visit. On one such call he asked if I wanted to fill in for him on a short Midwest Zoo Tour. I agreed.

THE DUDES

ZERED BASSETT: Hammer program star

HAROLD HUNTER: Insane comic relief; I can say whatever I want about him because I think he's borderline illiterate

JACK SABBACK: North Carolina native, nerdy hippie thug or something

DAVID BACHINSKI, AKA PLUTO LABINSKI: Had nothing to do with the Hucklebuck

ROBERT LOPEZ MONT: Mohican Puerto Rican ripper 

JEFF PANG: Veteran pro

TEAM CAPTAIN RB UMALI: The man in charge of videography 

SPECIAL GUEST: Italian Don, Vinny Ponte

SHAKE UP

Two days before the trip started there was some kind of team shake up. I only mention it because it's all anyone asks me about when I tell them I just toured with Zoo. I don't know anything other that what you know, so let's leave it at that. I remember thinking "Yes! Tour's cancelled!" It's nothing personal, but in the days before a tour I'm always filled with dread and depression. I don't know why, 'cause once I'm on the road it's priceless. We traveled through Pennsylvania and Ohio, doing a couple demos on rainy days without much incident. But as we headed into the Dirty South, the rain cleared up and a fire was lit under Zered's ass. Every time he was let out of the van, he did yet another amazing, photo-worthy stunt. By the end of the trip I had more photos of him than I knew what to do with. I think we averaged two per day.

SLEEP CHAMBER

Louisville is the Barcelona of park skating. I'd always wanted to go and was excited to get to skate there--it's lit up all night. We arrived and were invited to stay in a skateboard hostel a block away called the "Sleep Chamber." I recommend all traveling skateboarders stay there; it's 17 bucks a night. They have a pool table, jukebox, and the titty computer game. It started raining, beer was bought, and a party raged. At 3:00am we noticed that the park had dried up and went for a skate. Zered was so drunk he couldn't even stand on his skateboard; it was as if it was a wild bucking horse. He'd start pushing and then suddenly be flung into a fence. He tried to drop in the bowl and was flattened in the flat bottom. It got so bad that Jeff Pang hid his skateboard out of fear that he'd get really hurt, but Zered still wanted to skate. A skateboard tug-of-war ensued that cumulated in an angry fist fight, with Jeff coming out the winner. Zered was so drunk that anyone could have kicked his ass. Coffee and rolls were waiting in the mornings at the Sleep Chamber and check-out isn't until 3:00pm, something I always dreamed a hotel would have. There are more stories to tell about this place but since they might land some people in trouble, I'll just be happy that I was there.

DEAD ON A BRIDGE

In Columbus, Ohio, nine-year-old Willie Wagner was found dead on bridge. It was clear that he had been electrocuted, most likely by a lamp post coming up from the sidewalk beside him, but investigators couldn't figure out how or why it happened. I was with the Zoo York team shooting photos in downtown Columbus. All the lights were off in the city and the cops came by every couple minutes but nobody stopped or said anything. It was very surreal; I knew something strange had happened, but didn't know what.

ATLANTA

We drove south, went to some random cities and demos, and finally found ourselves in Atlanta. The hotel we had booked there had suddenly become unavailable, so we drove around trying to find another one. Finally we found some rooms in a really sketchy place in the ghetto. There were hookers roaming the outside and an assortment of other characters: dealers, pimps, lurkers ... I brought my camera equipment to the room, but before I could lock the door Harold was buying weed off some guy in the stairwell. I thought, "that's not too good of an idea." I went to sleep, but at 6:00am I woke up to somebody running by the door yelling "Help! Call the police!" followed by some crashing in the room next to me. I got up and looked out the door, nobody was there. Maybe I had dreamt it--a nightmare combined with a truck shifting gears on the highway. But then tire police showed up with an ambulance. Apparently the night before when Harold bought the weed (and maybe some stronger stuff), Robert Lopez (the rather tough 16-year-old Puerto Rican with a mohawk) had pulled out his wallet and made visible the $400 he had with him. Harold was standing outside the room smoking a cigarette when three guys rushed past him into the room. Harold took off running and yelling while the guys hit Robert over the head with a bottle and stole his money. Covered in blood and with the paramedics stitching up his head, he kept saying in his raspy, broken English, "Hey, this is nothing. I skateboard, so this is nothing. Really."

HAROLD

The next day, Jeff Pang told RB and me that "There are three adults here. One of us has to share a room with Harold." I had never, ever been referred to as an adult on tour. Although lately (at 26 years old) I've been ranking as one of the oldest in the van, my drinking disorder and predisposition toward sleep and laziness leave me as one of the most irresponsible. After a few minutes of thought, I said, "Sure, I'll share a room with Harold." I mean, what the fuck? You know, I had grown to enjoy Harold and was glad that he was on the trip. I liked lying to him, telling him that various symbols along the countryside were KKK codes and that the age of consent in Kentucky was 15. "Shit, really? It's 15? Damn! It's on in Kentucky!" Harold is really fun to be around. I knew I shouldn't have laughed at his jokes because it was only going to encourage his full insanity, but I couldn't have hid a smile if I tried. And it was easy to forget about all the hassles of traveling and homesickness when Harold would randomly announce what he would do to a girl if one was around.

That's it dude, a week-and-a-half-long trip driving around in a van. The Zoo York team was fun to travel with and easy going. I'm also amazed at how much they got done--they're just pure skate and destroy.