Taste the River, Tito

I am a witness. Technically there were nine of us...the witnesses. I'm assuming that I'll be the only one reporting on the action, so anyone reading will have to trust that this article contains the truth.

I'll bring this whole thing up to speed...

We were skating last night at the bowl. It was a good session with a good mix of heads...including some that I haven't seen in far too long. There was only a few skaters left skating. I was posted up in corner with O-town and Seber. We nursed our injuries with ice cold beer.

Being the last skaters on such nights can be a chore...it's as though sometimes you are the entertainment for the drunks on deck who want you to keep skating so that they are not left staring at an empty bowl. Tito felt no pressure from the mob, skating freely into the night with a crowd and slurry encouragement rubbing him.

Tito took run after run as the crowd called out for more. Finally, he was apparently done skating. He tossed his board into the night lit bush. He threw up his arms and claimed "I'm done". Then, from the shallow end deck side, he did a one handed hand spring into the flat area of the bowl off of the love seat. It happened pretty quickly and quite honestly I was very impressed with his cat-like agility. He landed on his feet,facing away from the benches, did a quick ninety degree turn whilst launching himself into a round off cart-wheel that happened so fast that when he flipped over and landed onto his feet, the fucking back flip that followed happened in pure slow motion. My jaw was open and chins hit the floor! What the hell is going on here? This dude just got done skating by himself (for our enjoyment) in the heat of the summer night and he tops it off with a trio of gymnastics in the flat bottom? Look a him! He's doing a fucking head-high back flip!

Gravity finally kicked in and Tito's flight had ended. He landed with might onto both feet and immediately started complaining of a bruised heel, and we all felt slight guilt for loving his shenanigans so much. We threw beer cans into the bowl and hand fulls of stone.

As of late, when someone pulls off stunt wood maneuvers of great difficulty, it has become a sort of ritual to through stones into the bowl; to show utmost appreciation for their dedication and commitment. You can sort of smell the irony. 'Dude just gets done landing something that he's been trying all night and his fans immediately toss aggregate into the bowl that basically makes the bowl unskateable for the rest of his run. This is a cruel sort of encouragement brainstormed by none other that O-town Wilson. -Now even if someone is getting closer and closer to landing a big trick, we will begin to sift the stones with our hands and feet and it creates an eerie sound that may even hinder the skater from ultimate commitment...like "do I really want to land this now? These assholes are going to through STONES into the bowl if I do?". So far, the skaters involved have liked the stoning...well maybe, I don't know...I think Doug was kind of pissed. Oh well...fuck him. Anyhow, Tito breaks out a back flip off the flat bottom, so we stoned his ass.

Now 'Teets' is sitting deck side shoeless, rubbing his feet and nearly crying about a very badly bruised heel. We all tried to sooth him verbally by telling him that his shoes were cool, but basically they were pieces of shit. Telling him that "Your shoes suck" surely helped ease the pain. Vans are cool shoes, but the support system is a little less than friendly.

Tito now stands up and grabs a 'zip zinger' style board (this is a board with a sort of banana shape and narrow trucks, which are loosely fashioned for amazing steering capabilities). He starts rolling around the deck, and from no where, just rolls into the stone and beer can filled bowl. I don't know if anyone reading this can really picture what I'm talking about...the bowl is made of concrete...it's littered with 3/4" stones and an assortment of beer cans. Everyone in the world has a story about trying to ride a skateboard and then getting tossed off of it due to hitting a stone or a crack and GENERALLY most try to avoid such situations for lifetimes...Tito is charging this shit shoeless on a novelty board, with a bruised heel.

We were fascinted and delighted to no end with Tito's dance with death. We annointed his skating with more empty beer cans and very profane flattery. Some one even offered a cylinder shaped cooler to the bowl's litter. The cooler was red and white. It measured approximately 22 inches high and 12 inches in diameter. Tito charged the concrete walls and rammed the cooler out of his way, sending the cooler itself up the transitions and to the coping, where the cooler did a rock-to-fakie as Tito and stones rounded the corner. Tito held the strings...he commanded respect and called the shots.

Brian leans into me and says "He didn't come here the whole way from Puerto Rico for NOTHING!"
"Indeed" I say "This kid has a story to tell"

We watched this sweaty Puerto Rican Magician make history in front of our very eyes. The sound coming from the bowl was like nothing I'd ever heard before. Cans crunched and skidded. The stones danced up the walls, out of danger's way and then rattled down again into the danger zone. Sometimes the stones would get caught under his wheels and protested loudly that the board stop immediately, but none such action occured. The odd 'stopping' sound echoed into the night, and our hero carved victoriously. The nose of the zip zinger pelted a red and white cooler up the walls and above lip, performing a variety of tricks while master rounded with prevailing urethane humming under his bruised bare feet.

"Best ride I seen...I especially liked the flip of the cooler"

I was star struck with Tito's existence. I hailed his name. He punched me in the chest and smiled. "Fucking right, you sidewalk-makin-mother-fucker"-is what he said to me. I was flattered that he aknowleged me and grabbed another cold round for myself and O-town Wilson.

Tito became bored with the littered terrain and began scooping stone and can mixture with a plastic dust pan while skating. He the grabbed a push broom and rolled even faster around the structure, carving high and shoving dust, stone and trash above the deck with swift motions of a stiff bristled push broom.

Occasionally Tito would wreck, but he fixed himself quickly with the light of a 8 inch long Newport. We called his name and he delivered.

Eventually he walked away. There were no protests from the witnesses. There was nothing left for us to say...not that just anyone would understand. I was scared and afraid I was so alone. We're Neurotic! I've had it.

Thank you Tito. Taste the River! There's a Q in our name. It stands for quality boards, and a quest for fun in every run.