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General Discussion => WHATEVER => Topic started by: HenryChinaski on October 14, 2006, 04:51:08 AM

Title: Crazy White Boy
Post by: HenryChinaski on October 14, 2006, 04:51:08 AM
My circadian rhythm is all screwed up. I have gotten myself into this really bad sleeping schedule where I am completely nocturnal. Actually, it has been that way for a while, from when I was working a second job at night. Anyway, I was up all night last night, and at about 5 am I got the urge to go skateboarding. There isn’t too much to skate here on the island of St. Kitts other then flat ground, and I had noticed this apartment complex down the street had parking blocks out front. I wanted to wax one up to do grind and slide tricks on, because the only other thing I have to grind are little yellow curbs, which are great for slappies, but bad for back tails. I had scoped it out the last time I was out skating, and knew that I was going to have to sweep out the sand first. (It’s right near the beach.) I figured early in the morning would be a good time to do it without anyone bothering me. So, I watched “PJ Ladd’s Wonderful Horrible Life”  and drank a cup of coffee to get hyped, and I was out the door, broom, candles, and bottle of water in hand, and the new Lillingtons album on my headphones. The sun was just rising, so it was still relatively cool out, and I felt good cruising down the street and olling the speed bumps. I reached the spot, and had just begun sweeping up when I noticed a local in tan overalls approaching. He looked like a janitor or something. I just kept sweeping. He got to about five feet away from me, and just stopped, staring at me intensely. “Hello.” I said politely, nodding at him. He just stared. I kept sweeping, hoping he would see I wasn’t doing anything bad, and leave. Nope, he just stood and stared. “Nice morning, huh?” I said, sweeping up a storm. He stared harder. I pulled down my head phones and asked “Is something wrong?” “What are you doing?” he asked in a demanding tone. “Sweeping.” I replied. “Why? Why do you do that?” he wanted to know. “I have OCD.” “WHAT YOU SAY?” he said, his eyes wide, looking as if I had said “I have HIV” or something. “Obsessive compulsive disorder.” I explained with a grin. “I have to clean everything, I can’t stand dirt!” “Well… you… you cannot do that here!” He said, pointing at the curb. “What? Clean?” “No- no you cannot!” “OK.” I laughed and gathered my stuff, thinking I would just come back later to wax the curb. He stood there with his hands on his hips watching me leave, and as I was walking away I heard him mutter “Crazy white boy!” Ha ha! So I went out to the road for my usual flatland session/practice where I do sets of five of each trick, unless I land the first two in a row, then I move on to the next one. (Maybe I really do have OCD!) After a couple of tricks I noticed the same local watching me from over the fence in front of the apartment complex. He looked confused, as if he had never seen skateboarding before, which is quite possible here. It was funny. I’m going to go back later today wax the curb, and learn kickflip back nosegrinds to pop out.