Blog post: The story of my keychain: part 3- Fart lighting and Oklahoma honeymoons
At the end of the last post about the 1986 Tulsa AFA Masters contest, I was riding from the airport to the hotel in the back of the Haro freestyle team van. That happened because I met some East Coast kid named Joe Johnson in the airport. Yeah, Joe turned out to be one hell of a rider, but I didn't know that in the van. He was some quiet kid I met in the airport, who happened to be a new Haro rider. Jon Peterson, the Haro assistant team manager started talking to me in the van, and I told him FREESTYLIN' magazine editor Andy Jenkins had tapped me to cover the contest for the magazine.
At that point, I had been into BMX riding for nearly 4 years, and serious about the emerging sport of BMX freestyle for two years. That whole time, most of it spent in Boise, Idaho, I had been dreaming of becoming a big time pro rider, going on tour, having fun, and, mostly, meeting girls. I did local shows in Boise with Jay Bickel for about a year. Then my family moved to San Jose, and I started my first zine, and became a part of the NorCal/Golden Gate Park scene. I had met a couple of girls because of my riding. But the whole, "go on tour and get crazy" thing that a lot of teen and 20-something guys had as a goal, was still a pipe dream.
Then, somehow, I was suddenly riding in the back of the smelly Haro tour van with crazy driver and vert pro, Ron Wilkerson, at the wheel. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I felt like I had won some sort of BMX freestyle lottery. We got to the hotel, I followed the guys in, and dropped my stuff in one of the Haro rooms. It was a Holiday Inn Holidome hotel, a big "U" shape, with the middle of the "U" under roof, and a two story wall of windows in the open end of the "U". Inside that big open area was a large swimming pool, a few miniature golf holes, and two levels of open space by the big windows, with couches and pool table. Everywhere there were the riders I'd seen in magazines for the past four years: Ron Wilkerson, Woody Itson, Brian Blyther, Mike Dominguez, Tony Murray, and several others. Jon Peterson introduced me to some of the guys, and gave me some ideas on covering the contest.
He went off to take care of some things, and I followed someone into another rider's room. Right as I walked in, a factory rider walked over to a chair in the corner, sat down, lifted a leg, and ripped a huge fart. "I'm marking my territory," he said, "that's my chair, nobody steal it." Then he walked out to get a Coke from the machine or something. After that, I witnessed my first fart lighting exhibition, something I'd never tried or seen performed before. I'm not even sure I knew lighting farts was even possible then. But two or three riders laid down on the bed and someone else, another rider, I can't remember who, but an experienced fart lighter, took the Bic lighter and the dangerous duty of making ass flames happen. Another guy explained in detail about the time he had a friend light his fart while naked, and the serious burns that ensued. Lesson learned, never light farts in the nude. I didn't want to ask why he was hanging out with another dude nude. I was overwhelmed. Suddenly I was hanging out with a bunch of the craziest guys I'd ever seen, in a hotel, far from home, with no supervision. It was like I stepped into my freestyle dreams, minus the hot and horny women.
I followed another guy out of that room, and we wound up going into Brian Blyther and Mike Dominguez' room. Mike and Brian both had rooms paid for by their sponsors, but decided to get their own room to hang in, since they were good friends. The hotel was only about half full, so there were plenty of empty rooms. They didn't pay for the room, someone distracted the guy at the front desk while one of them, Mike I think, reached over the counter and grabbed a random room key. Hotels had actual brass keys then, usually hung on numbered pegs behind the front counter. But I didn't know that had "borrowed" and unused room at the time.
I think there were three of us chillin' in their room, talking to Mike Dominguez, as he put his bike together. That alone was pretty amazing to me, I was hanging with Mike-freakin' Dominguez! I kept thinking, "that mellow dude does ten foot airs." As if that wasn't crazy enough, Brian walked out of the shower with a towel around him, and looked for some clothes in his suitcase. Suddenly we heard the door latch click, and Mike and Brian shouted, "Grab everything and get out!"
The rooms at Holiday Inn holidomes had one main door that came from the hallway, and another door, on the opposite side of the room, that opened into the big holidome area. I didn't know what was going on, but I grabbed a suitcase and dragged a bike box out the door facing the holidome. We all ran down the narrow walkway, Byther still in his towel, and someone shut the door to the room. We quickly dragged all the stuff into some random rider's room to hide. I wasn't sure what we were hiding from. It was only then that I learned they had "borrowed" the room key. There was a quick informal meeting, and somehow it was decided that, since I was the most normal looking guy, with no bike company T-shirt or anything, I should be the one to go down to the front desk, and see if the guy who actually rented that room saw any of us, and if someone was going to get kicked out of the hotel.
Nervous as hell, but not wanting to let down vert pros Dominguez and Blyther, I walked down to the front desk, and waited behind a young couple. My story was that I just needed another pillow for my room. As I stood there waiting, I heard the story of this young couple, on their honeymoon, who had just driven from their wedding reception. The guy yelling at the front desk guy had walked up to the room they rented, and the door had the chain on, and he heard people in the room, it sounded like a few guys. He left his brand new bride in the hallway, and walked all the way around to the Holidome entrance for the room. The couple's hotel room was a mess, someone had taken a shower, the bed sheets were pulled open, there were towels on the floor, and it smelled like someone had been smoking weed.
I stood there trying to keep a straight face, as the young groom, who was starting his married life by taking his new bride to a Holiday Inn (OK, it was Oklahoma) for their wedding night romp, found the room they rented was a mess. The guy yelled at the poor front desk clerk, who had absolutely no idea what was going on. The clerk gave them a discount or something, and gave them a new room key, apologizing the whole time. The young couple calmed down, and finally went off to their new room.
I did everything I could to keep from laughing as I asked the hotel clerk for an extra pillow, and showed him my room key (for the Haro room). I then went back to the room where Brian and Mike were camped out, and reported the whole story, which had everyone laughing like crazy. What were the odds that the room Mike and Brian "borrowed" would be given to a couple on their honeymoon? I guess that's Murphy's Law, Oklahoma style.
By that time, an Oklahoma thunderstorm was rolling in, and we got a big light show through the wall of windows in the holidome. Haro rider Rick Moliterno said he needed to run to the store, to get some trash bags and duct tape, because the cap on his pick-up leaked. He asked if anyone wanted to go help him, and me and Billy Hop, the Haro team manager, rode along. We stopped at the first mini mart he saw, as the thunderstorm pelted the truck with rain. Under the roof over the gas pumps, Billy and me helped Rick duct tape trash bags over the gap between his pick-up cab and the cap on the bed of his truck, to waterproof it as much as possible. I rode back to the hotel with them, and spent much of the night hanging with the riders and industry guys, who played pool and goofed around, as the storm raged outside.
Woody Itson was flat out ruling the pool table, and played for over an, hour without losing. He beat nearly everyone there, proving skills on the table comparable to his flatland prowess. Finally my turn came. I was "the new guy" by that point, that no one really knew. Being incredibly shy by nature, and totally out of my element, I had been sitting there, pretty quietly, listening to everyone else talk and joke around. While I'm in no way a pool playing ace, I did play a lot of pool in high school with my friends, ranging from regular 8 ball to finese bumper pool, to a three man game we called Cutthroat. So I gave Woody a pretty good game. I had one ball left to hit in, and Woody was lining up on the 8 ball. I was about to be another victim to Woody's pool skills. But Woody Itson scratched on the 8 ball. It was a technicality, but I won, and took Woody off the pool table, and a whole bunch of the guys hooted and hollered as Woody sat down, mostly the guys he beat in the previous 10 games or so.
I managed to win one or two games, and then Woody came back for a rematch, beat me soundly, and took over the pool table again. I wound up back in the a Haro room, where I took my pillow and a blanket, and fell asleep on the floor, amazed by the events of my first day in the BMX freestyle industry. I didn't dream that night, because the whole afternoon and evening already seemed like a dream to me. .
The rooms at Holiday Inn holidomes had one main door that came from the hallway, and another door, on the opposite side of the room, that opened into the big holidome area. I didn't know what was going on, but I grabbed a suitcase and dragged a bike box out the door facing the holidome. We all ran down the narrow walkway, Byther still in his towel, and someone shut the door to the room. We quickly dragged all the stuff into some random rider's room to hide. I wasn't sure what we were hiding from. It was only then that I learned they had "borrowed" the room key. There was a quick informal meeting, and somehow it was decided that, since I was the most normal looking guy, with no bike company T-shirt or anything, I should be the one to go down to the front desk, and see if the guy who actually rented that room saw any of us, and if someone was going to get kicked out of the hotel.
Nervous as hell, but not wanting to let down vert pros Dominguez and Blyther, I walked down to the front desk, and waited behind a young couple. My story was that I just needed another pillow for my room. As I stood there waiting, I heard the story of this young couple, on their honeymoon, who had just driven from their wedding reception. The guy yelling at the front desk guy had walked up to the room they rented, and the door had the chain on, and he heard people in the room, it sounded like a few guys. He left his brand new bride in the hallway, and walked all the way around to the Holidome entrance for the room. The couple's hotel room was a mess, someone had taken a shower, the bed sheets were pulled open, there were towels on the floor, and it smelled like someone had been smoking weed.
I stood there trying to keep a straight face, as the young groom, who was starting his married life by taking his new bride to a Holiday Inn (OK, it was Oklahoma) for their wedding night romp, found the room they rented was a mess. The guy yelled at the poor front desk clerk, who had absolutely no idea what was going on. The clerk gave them a discount or something, and gave them a new room key, apologizing the whole time. The young couple calmed down, and finally went off to their new room.
I did everything I could to keep from laughing as I asked the hotel clerk for an extra pillow, and showed him my room key (for the Haro room). I then went back to the room where Brian and Mike were camped out, and reported the whole story, which had everyone laughing like crazy. What were the odds that the room Mike and Brian "borrowed" would be given to a couple on their honeymoon? I guess that's Murphy's Law, Oklahoma style.
By that time, an Oklahoma thunderstorm was rolling in, and we got a big light show through the wall of windows in the holidome. Haro rider Rick Moliterno said he needed to run to the store, to get some trash bags and duct tape, because the cap on his pick-up leaked. He asked if anyone wanted to go help him, and me and Billy Hop, the Haro team manager, rode along. We stopped at the first mini mart he saw, as the thunderstorm pelted the truck with rain. Under the roof over the gas pumps, Billy and me helped Rick duct tape trash bags over the gap between his pick-up cab and the cap on the bed of his truck, to waterproof it as much as possible. I rode back to the hotel with them, and spent much of the night hanging with the riders and industry guys, who played pool and goofed around, as the storm raged outside.
Woody Itson was flat out ruling the pool table, and played for over an, hour without losing. He beat nearly everyone there, proving skills on the table comparable to his flatland prowess. Finally my turn came. I was "the new guy" by that point, that no one really knew. Being incredibly shy by nature, and totally out of my element, I had been sitting there, pretty quietly, listening to everyone else talk and joke around. While I'm in no way a pool playing ace, I did play a lot of pool in high school with my friends, ranging from regular 8 ball to finese bumper pool, to a three man game we called Cutthroat. So I gave Woody a pretty good game. I had one ball left to hit in, and Woody was lining up on the 8 ball. I was about to be another victim to Woody's pool skills. But Woody Itson scratched on the 8 ball. It was a technicality, but I won, and took Woody off the pool table, and a whole bunch of the guys hooted and hollered as Woody sat down, mostly the guys he beat in the previous 10 games or so.
I managed to win one or two games, and then Woody came back for a rematch, beat me soundly, and took over the pool table again. I wound up back in the a Haro room, where I took my pillow and a blanket, and fell asleep on the floor, amazed by the events of my first day in the BMX freestyle industry. I didn't dream that night, because the whole afternoon and evening already seemed like a dream to me. .
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