Camp purgatory lot 187: Beauty & the Beast III.
THE FIRST BEAUTY & THE BEAST TRIP took five years to devise. As loose as the plan was, we knew we had the right crew, and we knew where we were headed. Expectations were high, as was the anticipation--when the Girl and Anti-Hero teams met in San Francisco on May 14th, 2008, we were all so excited. Any of us could've fanned out like a kid at an in-store and blown our cool, but of course no one did. You've already heard all about what transpired over those following two weeks: Camping, skating, tubing, and wizardry. It was a glorious journey, as magical as we'd imagined it would be.
Within the first couple days we'd already started making plans for the next year, and "The Honeymoon's Over" sequel proved to be true to its title: An undeniable good ride, but under a plague of foul weather and sidelining injuries. We'd never planned on taking this crew to Europe, but when some generous benefactors put up the cash to see if the magic would make it overseas, it was too tempting to refuse. As per the deal, we were to perform two demos and participate in the CPH Pro. "Participating" in the contest was a loose term--lurking hard totally qualified. The trip began in Malmo, Sweden. We set our tents at the base of a giant tree, dubbing it Camp Keebler. The tents were actually spread about a large field at first, but were soon pulled under the Keebler tree by magic elves. Thank the Elvin Gods for that, because we quickly realized that when the sun and the moon appear to be one-hundred yards away from each other in the sky, you're fucked. The Keebs provided shelter from the near-constant sunlight, allowing us a few extra winks. We stayed in this camp for four slightly dim-lit nights. There was a skatepark a stone's throw away, one nine-passenger van for 23 humans, and a stack of beer cases that dwarfed Li'l Robbie. Was this paradise or purgatory? Plenty of beer, but not enough food. We could skate and we could party, but we couldn't leave. Minds were getting lost. Julien caught Preston in full sleepwalk mode. He knew he wasn't awake because there wasn't a beer in his hand.
PACKING PROBLEM TO SACKING PROBLEM
On day five we left Camp Keebler, but before we did we had to solve this riddle: If you have 23 campers, and each camper has one large bag and one small bag, and your van only holds nine campers, how do you get all the campers and their bags over the bridge from Malmo to Copenhagen? Answer: Put 14 campers in said van built for nine and bring them to the nearest train station. Then, head back to camp and fill the van with the 10 remaining campers, plus the bags of all 23, and drive that sardine can 30 minutes over the bridge. After five days of camping, the ripe musk of man reaches its utmost brink of tolerance. Times that by 10, then multiply by the fraction of vapor leaking from 23 laundry bags. Howard referred to the odor he was detecting as "Double-Pits to Presty." At last, with a gasp, we arrived at our hotel--released from purgatory back into civilization, perhaps for punishment or purification of another kind.
Enter your typical contest zone.. .with a Danish twist, literally. A local had approached me with a sample of the city's most famous pastry. It was delectable, I might add. Of course there were burgers flipping on a grill, only these were hand-pressed, seasoned patties presented on a French roll with mixed greens--not those hockey pucks you get in Tampa. Beasts, Beauties, and friends of the family all took to the course, and the course-side beer bar. There was Kroner to be made, and the 187 (AHG (Anti Hero/Girl)) gang came for their share. A good part of the crew made money on single tricks, bets, and reaching the podium. The bittersweet winner of the worst slam award was our own Robbie Russo, who collided with Rune Glifberg on the flatbottom during the "vert jam." Robbie's buck-o-five frame was no match for Rune and his mega pump, looking to air into the rafters. The impact sent Rob, like a rag doll, head over heels. He was out cold on the flat. The result? Skull fracture; one tooth knocked out and three more impacted; stitches in his bottom lip; and a severe hematoma where his arm had been crushed between him and Rune. That was the end of the trip for Russo as well as Cardiel, who escorted him safely back home.
The rest of us carried on to Roskilde, a music festival held in a town by the same name, just outside of Copenhagen. More than 100,000 festival-goers attend every year, and most of them arrive a full week before the live music starts. They pitch tents, build elaborate speaker set-ups, get drunk, piss everywhere, and are entertained by the many sideshows occurring all around. The Beauty & The Beast demo was one of those sideshows. When performing for a crowd of mostly non-skaters, incorporating beer into the show is a great idea. Spectators did laps around the tattered course for free brew while Trujillo, Vincent, McCrank, and others skated in between and over the heads of the drunken participants. Things got a little sloppy. Thankfully T-Mo was there in an orange "crowd safety" vest, keeping the rowdies in check. Or maybe he was fueling the fire. Either way, the festival authorities stripped him of that vest way too soon.
That night the demo re-sparked, but in the form of a skateboard dance circle. No one could resist but to stop and gaze at the moves of Frank, Koston, Carroll, and Howard. Frank's feet would tic-tac, but from the waist up he was all Rerun: Part freestyle, part breakdance, and one-hundred-percent marvelous. But it was Rick who brought the house down with his human bowling butt-slides down the vert ramp, sweeping all unsuspecting legs in his path.
We wrapped the trip up after that night.
It was almost nothing like our cruise up the Northwest coast of the US three years ago; only the players remained the same. Did it have the magic of that first trip? No chance, but maybe just enough juice to keep chasing that dragon. See you next time.
CPH KRONER COME UP
As a team, the 187 posse racked up quite the coin:
$13,800 US Dollars, and 2,100 Danish Kroner.
Pfanner--$4,500 USD for a massive backside 180
T-Mo--600 DK for a back lip over the fish tank
Malto--800 DK for a perfect run, and $6,000 USD for 3rd place
Trujillo--200 DK for a back lip over the rainbow rail, $1,800 US for 8th place
Robbie--$1,500 USD for worst slam
Smyth--500 DK from the bookie: 250 on Torey puking, and 250 on Trujillo landing a switch trick in his run