In the words of Madonna (when in doubt, always quote Madonna), "Je Suis Désolé. Lo Siento. Ik ben droevig." Guys, I am ending this blog.
I'm pretty sure that this is the part where I tell you how great longboarding has been, or where I try to convince those of you who were interested in longboarding to do so, but I'm not going to do that.
"Sono spicacente."
I believe in endings and all, but this really won't be the end for my longboarding or my blogging. They may become separated, and even divorce entirely in a few years, but ultimately, the two concepts had a good run together and have influenced one another in a way that cannot easily be erased from my life and potentially even yours, dear reader.
I could give you a heartfelt map of my blogging over the years, starting with high school ramblings on a now socially dead website - xanga - up to my undergraduate studies at a major university, writing about concepts that flowed in and out of my mind and secretly questioning the increasing connection of internet blogs and the media and what that means to me in the future (seriously, almost every popular artist keeps a blog, for their fans, and the humor section of bookstores now carry a variety of blogs-turned-into-paperbacks). But...I'm not gonna do that either. (Probably because I'm lazy, since that seems like a pretty interesting topic that I would otherwise persue). "Perdóname".
What I am going to do, is encourage you to continue to cruise the internet for great and exciting things. Red vs. Blue, Kelly's "Shoes", Nuklearpower, PostSecret, Omgblog - the things that make you laugh or give you something interesting to talk about at work tomorrow. This blog may be ending, but I'll probably continue to blog about other things, throwing pebbles of thought into the lake of the world, and watching the ripples vibrate out forever, or disappating only a few feet away.
I won't say that I'm sorry. You have heard it all before.
-Andy
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Yes Mom
Don't talk to strangers. Eat all of your food; there are starving children in Africa. Do your homework. Go to bed. Don't sit so close to the TV. Have you washed the dishes yet?
My mom earned a degree in these and similar quotes by the time I was 7, and returned to the University of Parenthood for her Masters by the time I turned 14. Don't stay out too late, she'd warn. You need a haircut. Take out the trash. Go to school.
Most common: Clean your room.
Most annoying: Go outside and play.
Most archaic: Don't eat breakfast foods for dinner.
Seriously, what's wrong with a little cereal with the Late Show (besides watching "the Late Show")? Why wait until midnight for the a.m. go ahead to munch down on some Reeses Pieces when it's only 2 hours away anyway? There are starving children in Africa - what should it matter what type of food I'm eating as long as I'm eating at all, right?
But I digress. I've been holding on to that argument since 10th grade.
The reason for this post lies with another one of my mom's frequent chastisements. Wear reflective gear at night. This became a bigger and bigger issue as I began to pick up jogging as a way to lose weight and to relieve stress. In a typical Floridian summer, I wouldn't so much as run to the mailbox in fear of heat exhaustion, let alone 'round the neighborhood a couple of times, so waiting for the comfortable warmth of evening became a ritual for me. The sun would set, I would dawn my jogging sneakers, and out the door I would go. But this - like my uncanny ability to leave my clothes in the dryer all afternoon - drove my mother crazy. She would try to get me to wear a neon yellow jogger's vest, the kind that you could tell almost instantly someone was wearing because their mother had forced them to, and I simply wasn't having it. I would wait for her to fall asleep after dinner and take my jog then. I would "forget" to toss it on in my mad rush out the door.
Yeah, teenagers my age were sneaking out of the house for the most classic of reasons (sex, drugs, or rock and roll), and I was the dirty rebel who tip toed out of the house for a good cardio workout. Judge me all you want. Just know that my calves are sexier than yours.
But now, I've finally found something reasonably cool that can keep me visible late at night while I'm out longboarding. Check this out:
They come in different colors too. Red, green, yellow, blue, orange, etc, etc, and you can place more than one on your board. I want to get a pair that flash a mixture of colors so my board can look like a 12 mile per hour techno/rave party. My mom would take one look and say, "wow, that's very pretty. Now where's your helmet?"
-Andy
My mom earned a degree in these and similar quotes by the time I was 7, and returned to the University of Parenthood for her Masters by the time I turned 14. Don't stay out too late, she'd warn. You need a haircut. Take out the trash. Go to school.
Most common: Clean your room.
Most annoying: Go outside and play.
Most archaic: Don't eat breakfast foods for dinner.
Seriously, what's wrong with a little cereal with the Late Show (besides watching "the Late Show")? Why wait until midnight for the a.m. go ahead to munch down on some Reeses Pieces when it's only 2 hours away anyway? There are starving children in Africa - what should it matter what type of food I'm eating as long as I'm eating at all, right?
But I digress. I've been holding on to that argument since 10th grade.
The reason for this post lies with another one of my mom's frequent chastisements. Wear reflective gear at night. This became a bigger and bigger issue as I began to pick up jogging as a way to lose weight and to relieve stress. In a typical Floridian summer, I wouldn't so much as run to the mailbox in fear of heat exhaustion, let alone 'round the neighborhood a couple of times, so waiting for the comfortable warmth of evening became a ritual for me. The sun would set, I would dawn my jogging sneakers, and out the door I would go. But this - like my uncanny ability to leave my clothes in the dryer all afternoon - drove my mother crazy. She would try to get me to wear a neon yellow jogger's vest, the kind that you could tell almost instantly someone was wearing because their mother had forced them to, and I simply wasn't having it. I would wait for her to fall asleep after dinner and take my jog then. I would "forget" to toss it on in my mad rush out the door.
Yeah, teenagers my age were sneaking out of the house for the most classic of reasons (sex, drugs, or rock and roll), and I was the dirty rebel who tip toed out of the house for a good cardio workout. Judge me all you want. Just know that my calves are sexier than yours.
But now, I've finally found something reasonably cool that can keep me visible late at night while I'm out longboarding. Check this out:
They come in different colors too. Red, green, yellow, blue, orange, etc, etc, and you can place more than one on your board. I want to get a pair that flash a mixture of colors so my board can look like a 12 mile per hour techno/rave party. My mom would take one look and say, "wow, that's very pretty. Now where's your helmet?"
-Andy
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Dead End
Florida has its own culture. You don't really realize it until you move down here, and you start to avoid going to the beach in January because "it's too cold", or you drive to your friend's house just down the road because "it's too hot" to walk, and your ideal footwear never requires laces.
Along with this goes those things that most people actually consider culture - a Spanish influence in architecture, a whole host of country radio stations that you can pick up the second you leave any major city, etc, etc. But there's something else that I have (so far at least) found distinctly Floridian: the vanishing sidewalk.
The sign says "welcome", but what I think it meant to say was "get out".
What's with this? Do they suppose that you just decided that you've come far enough and are insinuating that you should turn back now? Or that maybe you've had your fill of sidewalk luxury and should start walking in the street from here on out? Nothing is more frustrating than trying to get somewhere, only to discover that your path has been terminated for you.
Ok, so in reality, there has to be a technical reason for this. Like, the local government deemed a certain area not "developed" enough for a sidewalk, or something. Or maybe, it's up to the people who own the property to install a sidewalk and some people just aren't that willing. Granted. But, what happens when a sidewalk goes out into the middle of nowhere and just stops?
.....?
That one is on campus, at USF, near the gym. Did they change their mind mid-construction or something? Whatever the reason, it's a little frustrating and confusing for the pedestrian. For me. Sometimes, like in the case of this one, you can tell before you branch off onto this path that it leads nowhere, so you don't take this way. But sometimes, you don't know until you've made it halfway down the street that the sidewalk ends (in my "hometown", on the other side of Florida, sidewalks end at telephone posts, or street lamps) abruptly, in the middle of nowhere, leaving you no other place to go but the road, or a ditch.
Whether cities want them to or not, these kinds of sidewalks (or rather, blatant lack thereof) send out a pretty negative message. They say "we don't care about you, or your safety after this point". They say "we don't want your exercising kind here". Roads do the same sort of thing, but at least they have a sign stating that you're turning onto a dead end. I wonder if they'd consider making signs like these for pedestrians? (....."sidewalk dead ends"....."dip in sidewalk"....."yield to crossing lizards".....)
But that's not the way it is. Instead, sidewalks just mystically end. It's like they expect us to just disappear along with the pavement. I don't recall ever finding this sort of thing in any other state, although I'm sure it might exist. I just think that if newspapers want to continue to call us all an obese nation, and that health care reform is making a gigantic splash on TV, that we should at least be provided a cheap but safe way to exercise (and travel) without getting run over.
-Andy
P.S. The best sign ever would be a "do not walk on the grass" sign at the end of every sidewalk that does this.
Along with this goes those things that most people actually consider culture - a Spanish influence in architecture, a whole host of country radio stations that you can pick up the second you leave any major city, etc, etc. But there's something else that I have (so far at least) found distinctly Floridian: the vanishing sidewalk.
The sign says "welcome", but what I think it meant to say was "get out".What's with this? Do they suppose that you just decided that you've come far enough and are insinuating that you should turn back now? Or that maybe you've had your fill of sidewalk luxury and should start walking in the street from here on out? Nothing is more frustrating than trying to get somewhere, only to discover that your path has been terminated for you.
Ok, so in reality, there has to be a technical reason for this. Like, the local government deemed a certain area not "developed" enough for a sidewalk, or something. Or maybe, it's up to the people who own the property to install a sidewalk and some people just aren't that willing. Granted. But, what happens when a sidewalk goes out into the middle of nowhere and just stops?
.....?That one is on campus, at USF, near the gym. Did they change their mind mid-construction or something? Whatever the reason, it's a little frustrating and confusing for the pedestrian. For me. Sometimes, like in the case of this one, you can tell before you branch off onto this path that it leads nowhere, so you don't take this way. But sometimes, you don't know until you've made it halfway down the street that the sidewalk ends (in my "hometown", on the other side of Florida, sidewalks end at telephone posts, or street lamps) abruptly, in the middle of nowhere, leaving you no other place to go but the road, or a ditch.
Whether cities want them to or not, these kinds of sidewalks (or rather, blatant lack thereof) send out a pretty negative message. They say "we don't care about you, or your safety after this point". They say "we don't want your exercising kind here". Roads do the same sort of thing, but at least they have a sign stating that you're turning onto a dead end. I wonder if they'd consider making signs like these for pedestrians? (....."sidewalk dead ends"....."dip in sidewalk"....."yield to crossing lizards".....)
But that's not the way it is. Instead, sidewalks just mystically end. It's like they expect us to just disappear along with the pavement. I don't recall ever finding this sort of thing in any other state, although I'm sure it might exist. I just think that if newspapers want to continue to call us all an obese nation, and that health care reform is making a gigantic splash on TV, that we should at least be provided a cheap but safe way to exercise (and travel) without getting run over.
-Andy
P.S. The best sign ever would be a "do not walk on the grass" sign at the end of every sidewalk that does this.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
For When Phil Collins Goes Blind
I didn't die, I just got stuck on some of these:
Most of us can recognize these things instantly. Some of us even know that they're there to help the visually impaired know that they're about to walk out into the street.
They're called truncated domes, in case you were wondering. And they've had an oddly complicated past that you can read about in the Americans with Disabilities Act's report. (The gist being that they were required, then studies showed that people who are blind or visually impaired have been using other cues to come to the conclusion that they were crossing the street and therefore these were not really effective and were no longer required, but are now required again because the ADA has made it so). In theory, these things are wonderful. They add an extra sense of awareness to your day. Even if people who can hardly see don't really need them because they had their own methods of not walking in front of moving traffic before the ADA intervened in the early 1990s (hmm, imagine that), I happen to like these truncated domes as a pedestrian because I don't always pay attention.
This is me we're talking about. The guy who spent over an hour looking for his car keys when they were in his jacket pocket - the jacket that he was wearing the entire time he was looking for them? Yeah. I'm not always paying attention to what I'm doing. I've got my other stuff to worry about, like whether or not I'll get accepted into a graduate school, if there'll be any form of social security for me when I retire, and why that guy I just walked past was wearing stripes with plaids (I truly believe it's a guy's way of saying "I'm single, and clearly available"). Those truncated domes are a reminder for me to pay attention and make sure no cars are coming before I cross the street. But on a longboard, these things are a completely different story.
On wheels, truncated domes act like brakes. One time they stopped my longboard dead in its tracks while I, still coursing with momentum, was propelled out into the middle of the street, (thank God nothing was coming, or else I would have made the news - "Safety Measure Kills Amateur Skateboarder". My mother would not have been pleased.) so, they're quite dangerous to the right kind of crowd.
The same could be said about life, you know. When you come to the end of an era, you relish the fact that it will all be over soon. The warning signs, the transition phase, the truncated domes are there to say "hey, pay attention; some things are about to change here." But sometimes, you don't want the warning. The warning is an inevitable notice that the way things were going before is about to come to an end. This can really work against you sometimes.
That is where I am now. School is almost over for me, and I am standing on those truncated domes about to cross the street into something new. Will there be a job waiting out there for me? Will I find a graduate school that will take me? Will some Volkswagen run me over on its way to the Strawberry Festival?
I don't know. I can't say. But change is definitely in the air tonight. Oh Lord.
-Andy
Most of us can recognize these things instantly. Some of us even know that they're there to help the visually impaired know that they're about to walk out into the street.
They're called truncated domes, in case you were wondering. And they've had an oddly complicated past that you can read about in the Americans with Disabilities Act's report. (The gist being that they were required, then studies showed that people who are blind or visually impaired have been using other cues to come to the conclusion that they were crossing the street and therefore these were not really effective and were no longer required, but are now required again because the ADA has made it so). In theory, these things are wonderful. They add an extra sense of awareness to your day. Even if people who can hardly see don't really need them because they had their own methods of not walking in front of moving traffic before the ADA intervened in the early 1990s (hmm, imagine that), I happen to like these truncated domes as a pedestrian because I don't always pay attention.
This is me we're talking about. The guy who spent over an hour looking for his car keys when they were in his jacket pocket - the jacket that he was wearing the entire time he was looking for them? Yeah. I'm not always paying attention to what I'm doing. I've got my other stuff to worry about, like whether or not I'll get accepted into a graduate school, if there'll be any form of social security for me when I retire, and why that guy I just walked past was wearing stripes with plaids (I truly believe it's a guy's way of saying "I'm single, and clearly available"). Those truncated domes are a reminder for me to pay attention and make sure no cars are coming before I cross the street. But on a longboard, these things are a completely different story.
On wheels, truncated domes act like brakes. One time they stopped my longboard dead in its tracks while I, still coursing with momentum, was propelled out into the middle of the street, (thank God nothing was coming, or else I would have made the news - "Safety Measure Kills Amateur Skateboarder". My mother would not have been pleased.) so, they're quite dangerous to the right kind of crowd.
The same could be said about life, you know. When you come to the end of an era, you relish the fact that it will all be over soon. The warning signs, the transition phase, the truncated domes are there to say "hey, pay attention; some things are about to change here." But sometimes, you don't want the warning. The warning is an inevitable notice that the way things were going before is about to come to an end. This can really work against you sometimes.
That is where I am now. School is almost over for me, and I am standing on those truncated domes about to cross the street into something new. Will there be a job waiting out there for me? Will I find a graduate school that will take me? Will some Volkswagen run me over on its way to the Strawberry Festival?
I don't know. I can't say. But change is definitely in the air tonight. Oh Lord.
-Andy
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Not a Bad Romance
I know that no one is really excited to talk shop, especially during a recession - I mean, why talk nuts and bolts when you can synthesize about whatchamacallits and doohickeypoppers? - but the time has come to compare longboards across the board, in the most general way I know how.
Mine is the best. End of post.
Ok, ok, so really. Follow me through this link to "Soulboards". Longboards are relatively expensive, so when you decide to get one, make sure that you like what you see. In fact, for this reason, I would even suggest that you pick some favorites or potential favorites online and then go to a local store that sells them to test it out before you buy.
What you will see through the link are a host of different longboards. Note number 1: not all longboards are the same. Skateboards are relatively the same length, so it becomes a matter of favorite design and (if you're really into skateboards) construction materials. Longboards also have a veritable plethora of designs and construction materials, with the added complication of differing shapes and lengths.
I'll address shape first, because ultimately, Note number 2: shape generally does not matter. You can choose a rounder, more skateboard reminescent shape, or you can choose a thinner plank of wood type shape. It's like the hairbow on Lady Gaga's head - oddly intriguing, yet ultimately unimportant to her music style. Unless she's got a bow that plays the bass now. There is not enough coffee in the world to prepare me for that. The only notable difference that shape gives is the curve of the board. Some are precisely flat for more rider control while downhill boarding, while others are slightly more "U" shaped to lock the feet in when just cruising down the street.
And now for the very defining definition of a longboard. Note number 3: size does matter. Stop snickering, I'm serious. The 27 inch long Hesher does not ride the same way that the 56 inch long Bombardier B56 Bomber would. A shorter board will give you more control in turns and in tricks, but a longer longboard will provide for a more steady ride over long distances. It all depends on the rider's needs or preferences.
In fact, if the rider prefers, they could get their hands on the handmade Texas Rolling Thunder. Soulboards states of this southern marvel:
But ultimately, my favorite aspect of a longboard is its give, or flex. This is the experience of jumping on a board, feeling it sink beneath your weight, and then bouncing back to its regular position. Some boards have a great deal of flex, and others do not - the former being for more relaxed rides and the latter being for more high speed models. For a beginner, I would recommend a board with a moderate amount of give/flex because as you begin boarding, you will discover that jumping up and down on your board does act as a bit of a breaking method.
I personally ride the Retrofish Rasta Beach longboard, which has the "U" shape and a moderate amount of flex, which is more indicative of a laid-back sidewalk riding experience. I chose it because it was one of the longest ones in the shop that I went to, but I feel as though it was a really good choice for me. When you're choosing the one that's right for you, consider the length and give (or flex) of the board, and what you plan on doing with it. Eventually, you'll find one and bond.
Awww, longboard. True love.
-Andy
Mine is the best. End of post.
Ok, ok, so really. Follow me through this link to "Soulboards". Longboards are relatively expensive, so when you decide to get one, make sure that you like what you see. In fact, for this reason, I would even suggest that you pick some favorites or potential favorites online and then go to a local store that sells them to test it out before you buy.
What you will see through the link are a host of different longboards. Note number 1: not all longboards are the same. Skateboards are relatively the same length, so it becomes a matter of favorite design and (if you're really into skateboards) construction materials. Longboards also have a veritable plethora of designs and construction materials, with the added complication of differing shapes and lengths.
I'll address shape first, because ultimately, Note number 2: shape generally does not matter. You can choose a rounder, more skateboard reminescent shape, or you can choose a thinner plank of wood type shape. It's like the hairbow on Lady Gaga's head - oddly intriguing, yet ultimately unimportant to her music style. Unless she's got a bow that plays the bass now. There is not enough coffee in the world to prepare me for that. The only notable difference that shape gives is the curve of the board. Some are precisely flat for more rider control while downhill boarding, while others are slightly more "U" shaped to lock the feet in when just cruising down the street.
And now for the very defining definition of a longboard. Note number 3: size does matter. Stop snickering, I'm serious. The 27 inch long Hesher does not ride the same way that the 56 inch long Bombardier B56 Bomber would. A shorter board will give you more control in turns and in tricks, but a longer longboard will provide for a more steady ride over long distances. It all depends on the rider's needs or preferences.
In fact, if the rider prefers, they could get their hands on the handmade Texas Rolling Thunder. Soulboards states of this southern marvel:
The Rolling Thunder really is the longest longboard in the world. Anyone who feels the need to get this is either really going for a socio-political comment, or is overcompensating for something. You be the judge.Introducing the world's Largest Longboard 'Texas Rolling Thunder.' A massive solid wood juggernaut - 80" Long with dual tandem trucks Titanium bearings. Rock steady on downhill rolls. Comes complete with custom soul kryptonic wheels. Try this one on for size. Totally handmade. Call with questions.
But ultimately, my favorite aspect of a longboard is its give, or flex. This is the experience of jumping on a board, feeling it sink beneath your weight, and then bouncing back to its regular position. Some boards have a great deal of flex, and others do not - the former being for more relaxed rides and the latter being for more high speed models. For a beginner, I would recommend a board with a moderate amount of give/flex because as you begin boarding, you will discover that jumping up and down on your board does act as a bit of a breaking method.
I personally ride the Retrofish Rasta Beach longboard, which has the "U" shape and a moderate amount of flex, which is more indicative of a laid-back sidewalk riding experience. I chose it because it was one of the longest ones in the shop that I went to, but I feel as though it was a really good choice for me. When you're choosing the one that's right for you, consider the length and give (or flex) of the board, and what you plan on doing with it. Eventually, you'll find one and bond.
Awww, longboard. True love.
-Andy
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Sidewalk Hazard - Fallen Signs
Ummm......that's not normal, right?
Still, I had to give it the "roll over" test.
Survey says....no.
The best part about it was reading the little white sticker on the back of the sign that says something to the effect of "hey, don't mess with this sign".
Hmmm...does moving the sign off the sidewalk constitute a form of tampering?
Keats has a theory of negative capability in which he suggests that a person should be comfortable with the fact that they can't know everything. Yeah, I guess that's cool. After all, year after year I learn something new, and I have to accept that year after year I was naive and foolish. But, there are times - like coming across this sign - when I don't have a logical explanation and I can't even deduce one from the aftermath. Why was this cut down and not stolen? How long has this been lying here? Who do you call to take care of this? Signbusters?
I wouldn't consider myself to have a type A personality in much of anything really. When you've lived on Oahu for three years and you've watched tourists come and go, the same as the tradewinds and typhoons, you come to accept that life pretty much goes on at the same pace as it did before, even if you've closed your eyes for a little afternoon nap. Work will still be work. Flowers will still blossom and perish. This kind of island mentality really affected me. But there are still issues out there - issues that you obviously can't just roll over. We've all got 'em. So the real concern begins to be, how are you going to handle them? Will you stop the presses and throw a tantrum (as I did when I took this photo? It was right before lunch - if you ever want to see an island boy angry, don't feed him), or will you find a way to carry on to more pleasing sights and sounds?
Valentine's Day is a holiday dedicated to love. So, love your partner. Love your friends. And love yourself. Try to bring a little cheer into their lives and yours by picking the latter option - by choosing negative capability, and carrying on with your life. And most of all, don't make this a one-time-a-year kind of deal. Signs of love always leave the best impression when they fall on the most unimportant dates of the year.
-Andy
Thursday, February 11, 2010
The Longest Sidewalk in the World
On the corner of Bayshore and Bay to Bay is a little unpaved parking lot dedicated to joggers, rollerbladers, boarders, and power-walking super moms whose strollers often parody their SUVs in size, amenities, and torque capacity. It's free to park, and therefore amazing. That is where I started my journey to traverse the world's longest continuous sidewalk. It is a fairly wide path lining the Tampa Bay (technically this is the Hillsborough Bay, but unless you're cramming for a geographical version of Jeopardy...) that goes along Bayshore Boulevard.
Here is the majestic Bayshore Blvd, to give you some idea of the length of it.
Here's a picture from "A". I'm on the left. "B" is downtown, on the right. The faaaar right.
From my car, I crossed the street and headed south to the beginning of the sidewalk/park. Most
believe that the sidewalk park starts at Gandy Blvd, which is true for giving directions, but the actual non-stop sidewalk starts a few 100 feet from Gandy, after you cross the private entrance to some super expensive looking condos in a gated community. Ah, to be rich and famous.
Bayshore is truly picturesque, and knowing this they've built a lot of rest areas into the seawall, so people can stop and have a chat, or maybe just enjoy a lovely sunny afternoon, or what have you, provided they don't die crossing Bayshore Boulevard itself. I am not joking. Close to 5 miles and not a single major crosswalk for pedestrians.
Clearly the Tampa Bay County Commissioners were not big fans of the Beatles.
Still, there are really positive aspects of Bayshore. For example, this is where Tampa holds the infamous Gasparilla Pirate Festival. I didn't go this year, but I caught the help taking down the bleachers.
Also to consider is the amazing architecture. I am something of an architectural fanatic.
I once wanted to walk around downtown Philadelphia with a big foam finger and point and cheer at all of the structural marvels. For some reason, the rest of my family wanted to stay in that day. But Tampa architecture is really quite unique because of our Cuban heritage (after all, we used to be very well known for our cigar companies, some of which still stand) which hearkens back to a more Mediterranean style. This is why when you come to Tampa, you tend to see porches with arcades (several rolls of arches) mixed in with the more colonial houses. The climate also really favors these Italian and Spanish appearing homes. I can't imagine how much this particular house cost, but considering its size and location, I bet it cost a pretty penny. I digress.
Ok, this is something that I frankly did not get. Like, why is there this cascading staircase that leads out into the water and rolls in towards the wall? I'm sure that it has some kind of actual use like docking some bejeweled paddleboat for the rich people who live in the house above, but every time I see these stairs, I picture Katherine Hepburn or Vivian Leigh rushing down in a giant petticoated dress searching the bay for their long lost love, which is not very realistic.
But alas, like these women's careers, my journey must come to an end, and it does at the bridge connecting Bayshore to the Davis Islands.
In truth, my ventures didn't end here, like the sidewalk did. I continued on into downtown, with the intent of checking out the new art museum, but the art director or whoever stands by the staircase entryway looked at me and my longboard like I was pimple on prom night, so I pretended to read the prices and meandered on back outside. Feeling a little let down, I continued on to Moxie's, but they were full and looked incredibly professional - not at all like the laid-back attitude of frequent student hangout, Kaleisia, in North Tampa, so I gave this a pass as well.
Two strikes, and nothing else to do for the rest of the afternoon, I decided to size up the opposition at the University of Tampa. Strike Three. There are no photos of UT, because UT sucks and I have zero intention of trying to mask this. It was an awful experience. I felt singled out and as if everyone was staring at me, and when I stopped in their cafeteria (which, through amazing mood lighting, felt more like an upscale parlor that required more sophisticated conversation where you dropped old language names and phrases like Le Corbusier and Il Cognescenti) to use the restroom, I could have sworn that the two Abercrombie and Fitch models taking a piss were about to start doing coke off each other, or perhaps trade Louis Vuitton shades to see if their girlfriends "noticed". Either way you cut it, I felt largely out of place and I just went home afterwards.
The reason I mention UT though, is because I noticed something while I was there. I was the only person with a longboard on campus during my 15 minute rendezvous. I didn't even see a skateboard. This was very odd to me because ever since I decided to start blogging about longboarding, I've noticed several longboards and skateboards on campus at USF. As a matter of fact, not a single day goes by that I don't see someone with one - it's so commonplace that I usually just tune it out. Perhaps having a longboard is showing something of my social status (since UT is full of children with...what we shall call a disposable income). Perhaps its more of a social group marker, as I'm the kind of guy who would rather shop at Hot Topic than at Hollister (I don't do either, in case you're wondering. Most of my t-shirts are from Threadless, which I believe offers a creative alternative to mainstream department stores). Whatever it is, it's palpable. I set out last week to discover a new side of Tampa. And I suppose you could say that I did just that.
-Andy
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