Oct 30

Autobiography: The Sequel

Archive - Andrew's JunkAuthor: Andrew Traweek

So where did we leave off last? Oh yes, Halloween. That was a crappy article, wasn’t it? But seeing as I was up for some Coaster Editorial Award, I had to release something to keep me fresh in people’s minds. It’s the same thing Hollywood does when they re-release a film shortly before the Academy Awards.

So lately I’ve been on this kick recalling silly portions of my life. A lot of stupid stuff happened to me as a child, as we’ve already covered in previous articles. In a way, this series started at the very beginning of Andrew’s Junk, with the Dysfunctional Park series. Now, while I was working at Santa’s Village, I was still in High School. So it goes to reason that the insanity did not restrain itself within park borders.

My first year up here in the boonies was a hard one. Not only was I a lowly freshman, but I was also the new kid in school. My breaks were spent wandering around the school because I simply felt that I did not fit in with the social scene in the cafeteria. I’d stop to play hackey sack with a few people, then move on. Every day, I would count down the minutes until my next class. Lunch was boring. I only felt a part of the group in class.

I can still recite my class schedule from my freshman year like it was yesterday.

First Period: English I: Writing
Second Period/Homeroom: Spanish I
Nutrition: Dumb name for ‘Snack’
Third Period: World History
Fourth Period: CAD
Lunch
Fifth Period: Algebra 1A
Sixth Period: Advanced Art II.

As you can tell, I was placed in some advanced classes that were generally reserved for Juniors and Seniors. So I was stuck with people older than me, who were already engrained in the social structure of the student body. So I spent the second semester of my Freshman year being the “Quiet Guy.”

I somehow survived my Freshman year, and moved on to summer. I used to rollerblade a lot down the hill, but rollerblading up here sucked ass. So, I bought my first custom complete skateboard. A crappy Alien Workshop deck sitting atop Grind King G5 trucks, some Shorty’s bearings, and Blind 44mm wheels. This is when I started skating every day after school, progressively getting better at it.

It wasn’t too long after I started skating that I landed my first technical trick. I didn’t even know the name of it, but I knew I could do it consistently. I knew it was like a varial heelflip, so that’s what I called it. It was only until a few weeks later that a few of my skater friends saw me land it that I knew what it was. Guys who had been skating years went bonkers, because this “new kid” was landing big fat Inward Heelflips over the 3 foot grind rail. That did wonders for me.

When I went back to school, I had my friends. So I was now allowed to be a part of the social scene in the cafeteria. To tell you the truth, it got me in a lot more trouble than it was worth.

I had been targeted by the SS (our security force) as a punk kid who they could pick on any chance they got. Well, one day I walked into the Ala Carte line as usual to get my Roundtable Pizza, and a Sprite. Next thing I know, I have Big Dick (the oldest security guard) poking me in the chest telling me to take off my belt, because it hung too low. He said it was a sign of gang affiliation. Okay, in a community where the school population is 99.99% white rich kids, I can see their need for “Gang Watch ‘95″.

But he had poked me in the chest. Big no-no. I fought back. Not with fists, but with words. This got me in hot water, and was dragged to the Dean of Discipline’s office. R.C. Cox. What a dumbass name! I knew his nephew. I played football with him when I was going to Mission Viejo High. He also knew that I had made a promise to play ball for them as a personal favor to my coach. Needless to say, I did not agree with the structure of the team, and the way they interacted, (stupid Nazis) so I decided not to play for Rim. Cox didn’t like that one bit, so he was riding me.

He called my parents in and told them that their kid was being “militant” and that he wanted to see them in his office in an hour. Typical guy with his head up his ass barking orders at my parents. I was only militant because Big Dick touched me. I knew the law, and he was in the wrong.

I was told to go to my next class, and that everything would be taken care of. Well, needless to say, I did not go to my next class. I waited out front for my dad to show up, so that I could give him my side of the story. I even showed him the bruise on my chest.

Only then did I go back to class. No longer than 10 minutes in my seat, a call slip came in for me. I reluctantly walked to the Security Office. When I opened the door, all I saw was my dad. with Big Dick pushed up against a wall, poking his finger into his chest.

“You may be ex-Navy and ex-CHP, but I’m a pissed off ex-Marine. How do you like it when I poke you in the damn chest, huh?”

He punctuated every syllable with an increasingly harder poke. “If you ever mess with my kid again, I’ll be back down here. And next time, things won’t be so civil!”

That’s when my dad turned to walk out, and saw me. As he walked past, he just said, “It’s been taken care of. Mr. Cox wants to see you.”

Funny thing was, my dad has never defended any of us kids before. He’s never been mad enough to do anything. He usually just sits there like a bump on a log, and takes what’s given to him. But this time, he had every security guard in that office looking on in sheer amazement.

So anyway, Cox copped his usual attitude, and said things were “resolved”, but that I should watch my actions. Pffft. Your nephew was a pansy, and so are you.

That was my first brush with trouble, but it wouldn’t be the last. I was constantly in and out of the Counselor’s office. I never kept my schedule for more than a week. They kept jockeying me around.

That’s how I ended up in my second semester of Auto CAD class. Now, this class downright OWNED. We never designed a damn thing. Since it was an ROP class, they just needed butts in the seats to get their money. They didn’t care what we did. So we did everything.

Every day was spent playing Wolfenstein 3D, Leisure Suit Larry, and some porno game called “Cobra City.” Every once in a while, we’d bust out some massive crash replay action on NASCAR. Mr. Chenail didn’t care one bit.

Now, since this class was in the workshop area of the school, we had like, five fire extinguishers in the room. One day, we decided to have a fire extinguisher fight. Now let me tell you, that crap is COLD! We completely discharged four of the five extinguishers in one period alone. We had to open the door just to breathe, which made things worse. The white cloud could be seen from across campus. Total hilarity.

One of the reasons Mr. Chenail was so cool was the fact that he cussed like a sailor. He’d get so pissed off at us for pulling stupid stunts that you’d see all these nasty veins popping up in his forehead. One time, he yelled at us for having porn on the computer screens when one of the ROP Administrators came into the room. He actually threw a stool into a wall. That was pretty cool.

So we decided that it was our American duty to put some of the foulest hardcore porn ever on every single workstation, including the teacher’s. Well, you see, the plan kinda backfired when a female TA walked into the teacher’s office to work on the computer there. If I recall correctly, we had a picture of some hermaphrodite doing something really nasty set as the desktop.

I swear, I have never seen anyone run out of a room that fast in my life. Evidently, she ran all the way to the Principal’s office too, which is a good 400 meters. Not good. We removed all evidence before we could be detected. Chenail got his ass chewed for that, then disappeared. A few days later, we had a permanent substitute. He said that Chenail had a heart attack. Ooops. So we did the only thing Chenail would’ve wanted us to do. play games and stuff.

So summer rolls around again. By this time, we had hijacked an abandoned restaurant, and built our own skate park in the parking lot. We had a four-foot quarterpipe, a nine foot quarterpipe with a 2 foot vert section, a 3 foot funbox, my grind rail, and a few other things.

By now, I had lots of skater buds. One of them was the funniest guy I’d ever met. As girls would walk by, he would yell at them, “HEY! Can I pee in your butt?”

Most would keep on walking, showing some unreasonable amounts of disdain with our laughter. But one day, some royally skeezy chick actually said yes! From that day forward, she fluttered around that area like a disease-filled barfly. She only left after our next caper.

There was this really small kid, about fourteen years old that would hang out there because we were cool. He had some sort of job walking dogs for people. Well, one day, he brought this pitbull by. Now, being the innovative boneheads my friends were, they decided that it would be cool to see it attack someone. So Mike (yes, the same guy from Santa’s Village) decides to kick this dog in the nuts until it gets pissed off and attacks him.

Well, the plan backfired. The dog got really horny, and started running around humping people’s legs. We were laughing like maniacs, and running for our lives. Unfortunately, the kid wasn’t as fast as we were. The dog jumped up on him, and started dry-humping his butt! We were a bit frightened at first, until we heard the kid laughing. The dog was going at it like there was no tomorrow. Fortunately, one guy had a camera, because he was shooting a skate video. He got the whole thing on tape. We were laughing so hard that we were on the ground. My stomach felt like it was going to explode.

Well, finally, the dog did his “thing” on the kid’s leg, and laid down. Now the sickest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. The kid says “I’ll do it again for $20.”

While it was funny the first time, no one was prepared to pay to see it. After all, this other dude had it on tape. But yeah, back to the point. the skeezy chick left after that. I guess even that was too much for her to handle.

Later that summer, this group came in and bought the place. Some drug rehab center for teens. They actually let us stay because we were a positive influence on the kids. There was this one 17 year old chick that was a good influence on me. she’d show her goods to anyone that asked. She was also a bit suicidal, and was constantly running away.

One day, she tried to run away when one of the other girls got pissed at her. She said, “Oh no you don’t! That’s my sweater you’re wearing!” and proceeds to run her down. Then came the most glorious sight I had ever seen. This girl says, “FINE!” and rips the sweatshirt off. She had nothing on underneath. Oh glorious day!

She ran away, completely topless. I don’t know what the point this part of the story makes, but the place was shut down a few months later when word got out that the owner was boofing the boys. Sicko. No wonder he let us stay.

Oh yeah, I had now lost my touch with the Inward Heelflips. Just thought you should know.

So yeah. The child molester got kicked out, the kids were shipped up to Big Bear, and they left the big trampoline. That thing was awesome! We’d spend our breaks from skating over there ripping some tricks on the tramp.

By now, I was a smoker. You know, it’s the “cool” thing to do. Plus that, everyone in my family smokes except for my mom. I figured if I’m going to die from lung disease, I’ll do it on my terms.

So I was over there smoking. Since I felt the need to show off, I decided to smoke an entire cigarette in one drag. Now, the funny thing about smoke is that it has little to no oxygen in it. This makes you dizzy. I was not aware of that.

So I go off and do a Rodeo Flip on the trampoline. I blacked out mid-air, and woke up on the ground. I got up, and instantly started vomiting. Strange.

Blah, blah, blah. I had a massive concussion. I blew chunks all over my bathroom when I got home. Then I tried to clean it up with a toilet brush instead of the mop. Wow. I was legally retarded for a couple hours!

About a week later, I was good to go again. I headed back over to the skate park, and started grinding. I had been there less than five minutes, and I had my second major accident at the place. I dropped in off the 8-foot quarterpipe, had a lot of speed going. I went to do a frontside railslide on the rail. All I know is that I ended up eating pavement. Literally. I got up, and laughed. Wasn’t too bad, I thought.

My friend’s laughter reinforced that thought. But the laughter quickly turned to curses. I had split my chin open to the bone. No big deal, I felt nothing. So I tried to stop the bleeding, and proceeded to skate. I’d have to stop every now and then to split the wound open to show somebody my jawbone, and go about my business.

Then it started hurting. I called my dad to come pick me up to take me to the emergency room. He chewed me out the whole way. Hell, it was only 10 stitches, and it only cost us like, $5.

A week later, I had 14 staples in my elbow from grinding that same rail. Did I stop skating? No. I skated so much (and slammed myself hard doing so), that the staples had been driven deeper into the elbow. The doctor almost needed a crowbar to get them out.

So yeah, I survived high School, graduated on time (how did that happen?), and began living my life as a freelance video producer and professional bum.

The moral of this story? Um. let’s see if I can come up with one. oh yeah, don’t be a Giants fan.

-Andrew