There I was, chillin’, maxin’ out, “lurkin’ hard” in a limo, drinking a Red Bull Vodka on my way with the Red Bull Sacramento Crew to swoop up some of the nastiest local skateboarders in the 916. I knew it was going to be ill. I mean, shit, we’re in a limo, so I sat back and waited for the madness to ensue.
We pulled up to the old Flatspot skate shop downtown and saw a dozen or so sweating kids skating flat ground awaiting our arrival. The limo driver, we’ll call him Dan, got out of his driver seat and opened the door, allowing everyone in. “Beer me” someone exclaimed, as an ice-cold one got tossed into his hands. “Do you have any CDs?” I replied to the dude clutching the beer and almost before I’m finished I get a sarcastic reply, “Yeah”¦see deeze nuts!” I should’ve known not to give him such a golden opportunity. After a few quick laughs we all saddled up, cameras and lights chillin’ in the back, and headed over to the first spot: Granite Skate Park off Power Inn Road. Although there was nothing NSA about skating the biggest park in all of Northern Cali—our crew just needed to warm up and get their bones loose on their home turf.
So we pulled up to Granite like straight pimps. Everyone piled out of the limo to skate the park and immediately everything was getting destroyed. These skateboarders were killing this park, literally, name a trick and it was laced. After about an hour of the park, a few flip tricks over the double set courtesy of Kyle Duval, and stenciling all the local groms’ decks (www.redbullskateboarding.com), we jumped back in the fly mobile (Dan’s limo) and headed to some gnarly 11 stair at a school in Fair Oaks, Calif.
We pulled up to this handrail, and it was pitch black. As soon as Danny Boy let us out, I realized we were in the fuckin’ suburbs somewhere and we were being mad loud. I gave it 15 minutes before the cops showed up. With this in mind, we quickly set up the lights, and they got to work. After a few warmup ollies, things started getting dope. This little man, Blue Turner, was destroying it: backside smith grinds like it was his day job. Then next thing you know, Rob Mason barreled through and started trying to backlip the damn thing. It was dope; the Lurk Hard homies were representing.
After another hour or so, we jumped back in the limo and headed over to Ink in Midtown for some grub and drinks. An hour or two, a few drinks, and a chunky meal later, we were ready to peace out.
All in all, the night was an unforgettable experience. Big ups to Armain Austin, everyone at Red Bull, Lurk Hard and everyone who was along for the ride”¦thanks for a dope evening! And remember, NSA is only a state of mind.
By Brandon Brown
Photos Courtesy of Joe Poinski