Sarasota is pretty fun, but Tampa is the definition of awesome, so I left early the next morning. And 41 was awesome the entire ride up.

For some reason, there is a huge (almost an entire other lane!) median from Sarasota to Tampa. I could really relax as cars flew by at 55+ mph. So I kinda looked around a bit on the ride up and took it all in.

When I pulled into the Skatepark of Tampa later that day kids couldn’t believe that I had ridden there from Naples. It just made no sense to one kid, who wanted to know why I just didn’t take a bus. Good question, really.

After peddalling a good 50 miles, I had just about the best skate session anyone could ask for. The Skatepark of Tampa has by far the coolest scene of people who hang out and skate. Every day it’s going off, and no one is really into that whole “gotta go pro” scene. Just fun.

I was exhausted by 9:00, though, and I got on my bike and made the last 10 miles to my friend Billy’s house in the dark. Then slept.

I ended up staying a week in Tampa. Everyone was so nice and hospitable that I just couldn’t leave right away.

On the day before I left, though, there was a best trick competition for two plane tickets to Barcelona at the Skatepark. I didn’t really think I had a chance against the SPOT locals, but I gave it a shot anyways.

I came out and tried a 360 shuv-it and would have landed it first try. But someone had fallen just below the stairs and I couldn’t stay on. Boneless frontside fingerflip over a stair set was the first trick I landed. Not bad. It got me into the round to do the big gap to bank…

Where I proceded to fall apart. I had landed a bluntslide to fakie earlier that day on it, and figured I could pull it again. No such luck. Oh well, guess I won’t be flying to Barcelona anytime soon.

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“He was convinced that, left to himself he would have long since achieved nirvana… dived into his belly button and disappeared from view, like those Hindu jokers. Why couldn’t they leave a man alone?”
- Stranger in a Strange Land
The next day there was a party, of course. I was with my close friends, and when you’re with friends there’s always a reason for celebration. They started drinking at 2:00 PM with a keg and a whole lot of hard liquor. I decided I would supervise, and make sure no one got into trouble. I also didn’t want to get on my bike hungover the next morning and die from heatstroke and Florida drivers.

So they partied and I watched and ate a lot of food. Quinn’s dad is from New Zealand and is always talking about New Zealand oysters. I have to admit, those little green guys are damn good, if a little intimidating. We threw horseshoes and I went swimming in the canal behind their house. I guess there was red tide, because there was more than one dead fish floating by with a swolen belly.
Nightime came and went, and it was time for me to leave in the morning. I got off to a quick start, but then realised I made a wrong turn. I went about 5 miles in the wrong direction. Turned around and ate at a pizza place for breakfast. Bad idea, it was an instant stomachache.

But I pedalled on, and by 5 o’clock I was in Sarasota, at the big mall. I had to pee so bad that it felt like I was going to puke. I ran into the mall, didn’t even lock up my bike, and searched frantically for the bathroom. It didn’t help that I didn’t have my contacts in, and couldn’t really see at all, and that I smelled and looked like pure hell. I walked by some department girl who had that Paris Hilton look, probably six feet tall, and she gave me the look. On any other occasion I woulda turned right around and started into the routine, but god, I had to piss more than I needed to think about any looks.

So I found the bathroom, found the truest meaning of relief, and then ran back out to my bike and called Zack. He gave me directions to the skatepark and to his house.

The Sarasota skatepark is rediculous. Team Pain is always building massive concrete skateparks, designed to save your soul every time you step on a skateboard. The park’s central features were a 10′ pool and a megahuge bowl with walrides everywhere and a 10′ elbow with pool coping and oververt. Pure death, in other words.

The locals are the park were cool though. It’s always a flip of the coin when you come to a new park, whether the locals or cool, or just a bunch of little kids (under 12) pushing around. These guys were just having fun, doing benihana flyouts and just rocking and skating, the way it should be. No shit talking, just shredding.

It got dark and I peddalled a quick 6 miles to Zack’s house. He was lounging in the jacuzzi when I pulled up. Hell yea. Perfect way to end the day. Jacuzzi soak and then a pizza and a movie. Next day back in the saddle. Thanks Zack.

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