Pull Qoutes: Enjoi’s more like a boy band-we’re not really friends and the first time we ever really met or said anything to each other was at the audition callback.
Me, Marc, and Louie are at my house. All of a sudden, my house turns into a beached whale and Louie turns into Clyde Singleton.
The more you’ve gone through in your life, the more jaded you are, and the more ridiculous and shocking you need to be to entertain yourself.
Another God-Forsaken Tour
I’ll take the me, me, me perspective on this. I was in a shitty mood the whole trip. For some reason there’re always weird vibes between Americans and the Euros. We’re in the same van for hours, but we’re segregated and they skate against us at our demos. I hate tension and vibing. I played the part of the distracted eccentric, so the Euros who drove us around quickly came to understand I’m socially retarded, and avoided talking to me for most of the trip. It takes the pressure off, you know?
Um, I’m trying to remember the trip. There was the bomb-shelter demo, and this one spot with a bump in front of a road barrier. This guy Esa, who was driving with us, nailed 347 flip tricks over the damn thing before any of us did our first one. Most of his were first or second try. Lou almost late big-spinned it, but rolled his ankle. Jerry switch pop-shoved it, and after about an hour, I backside nollie heelflipped it. Fun stuff. Hey, hey.
If I’m going to be truthful, I’d have to say that this tour was the lamest I’ve ever witnessed. When you stuff dudes in a van for two weeks and deprive them of female contact (except Louie, that guy rakes them in like wet leaves), it gets worse and worse. Especially when certain riders from the Enjoi team are on such a tour. Some people just like to see how bad they can freak you out. I personally like to make people uncomfortable, especially when I’m bored. It’s my caustic and mean side. The more you’ve gone through in your life, the more jaded you are, and the more ridiculous and shocking you need to be to entertain yourself. The majority of Enjoi is the same way. Not Rodney Mullen, Dave Mayhew, Chris Dobstaff, Clark, Josà‡ Rojo, Chris Cole, Jerry Hsu, or Bobby Puleo-just me and Louie. Or just Louie and I are mean to people that way. Rodney can be very mean, but most people aren’t smart enough to see when he does it. That’s the best.
The tour was raucous with laughter. We got wheeled on a party boat that sailed from Sweden to Helsinki, Finland. After das boot (that means the boat), the next day I woke up standing in line at a fast-food restaurant. I was blacked out and trying to order a burger or something. The tour guide was asking me something and I guess we’d already been introduced, but of course I didn’t know that. I remember looking at him and saying, “Wait a minute. Who the hell are you?” Ah, sweet mystery of life.
There was another demo in a place that had fluorescent-tube lighting, the same kind that you find in going-out-of-business department stores like Kmart, Roses, or Big Lots. The lighting was like an Emerica ad, all green-except the handrails. I can’t remember that particular demo because I was hypnotized by the frequency of the bulb flicker. It was gross. I skated vert at that demo. Back-to-back McTwists with an ice cream in my hand-my grabbing hand, no less. Yes, my griptape was weird after that. Everything was weird after that. Nothing was ever the same.
I’m going to stop typing after the next few words. Look at the photos and stuff. No one gives a damn about anything anymore anyway. Our tricks aren’t that crazy, I know, but we had a fun time, I think. Maybe Jerry and Louie will write a more informative rendition of the craze. I can’t get it up right now, you know? It comes and goes like that. I’ll see you around.-Marc Johnson
So, I’m on my way to the zoo when my cellular cancer box rings and it’s Corporate Johnson. “Great, probably another god-forsaaken Enjoi tour,” I think to myself. And it’s just my luck. He drones on and on about this and that when finally he tells me where we’re going, who’ll be attending, and hangs up. It’s me, Corporate Kojak, Louie, Seu, Chris Avery, and Dwindle’s brown guy on the inside: Tony “E-mail” Rodriguez.
You might think these tours are just fun with your friends, but it’s really just work, work, work.
Enjoi’s more like a boy band-we’re not really friends and the first time we ever really met or said anything to each other was at the audition callback. I actually kind of hate those guys.
So we hop on the Dwindle jet at LAX and arrive in Sweden in about an hour. Now I’ll skip Sweden and move right along to Finland. Actually, I don’t feel like talking about Sweden or Finland. I’m going to talk about this dream I had last night.
Me, Marc, and Louie are at my house. All of a sudden, my house turns into a beached whale and Louie turns into Clyde Singleton. So me, Marc, and Clyde decide to go outside. We walk out of the beached whale and it’s just my street again. Now I’m wearing a plaid button-up shirt with only the very top button fastened and a crushed Coke can is taped over my right eye like an eye patch. There’s a flea market on my street and the only people around are these old, retired gangbangers, like Edward James Olmos. They’re all laughing at me and pointing. That was my dream.-Jerry Hsu
All in the golden afternoon full leisurely we glide-for both of our oars, with little skill, by little arms are plied, while little hands make vain pretense are wonderings to guide. Ah, cool three! In such an hour, beneath such dreamy weather, to beg a tale of breath too weak to stir the tiniest feather! Yet, what can one poor voice avail against three tongues (brave Enjoi souls)? Alas to sudden silence one, in fancy they pursue the dream children moving through a land of wonders wild and new, in friendly chat with bird or beast-in hath believe it’s true. And ever, as the story drained the wells of fancy dry, in faintly strove the weary one to put the subject by, “The rest next time … it is the next time!” the happy voices cried. So here grew the tale of our wonderland; thus, slowly one by one our quaint events were hammered out, and now the tale is done, and home we steer, a merry crew, be the setting sun.
And here at last let this be heard: thanks need be given to Louis for showing us around Sweden; the vessel of self-destruction of which, only Chris Avery came out as the victor; Marc as the fallen angel-simply referred to as the boat; and thanks to everyone in Finland: Johanna, Esa Jaeke and the rest of the Numero magazine crew who were kind enough to baby sit us throughout our voyage. And to the goddess Chelsea for surrendering her sirens.-Louie Barletta