Mucklecrapshoot

Carbon Footprint

Took a ride to the Muckleshoot Reservation skatepark this morning. It's a bit of a jaunt from Seattle, but for whatever reason I feel compelled to get in my car and drive to some far-flung park most mornings. I'd say it's about freedom, but sometimes it almost feels like I'm forced to take the ride! It sounds like a gay extreme sports thing to say, but I mean it more in the actual metaphorical sense: the fire won't burn without the stoke. Now--to transfer some of the appreciation and enthusiasm for skateboarding into other of life's pursuits... and vice versa.

When I arrived at the park after about an hour's drive (with traffic) the chain link fence was locked. Fuck. The first time I ever went to Muckleshoot I towed the line. Like today, the gate was locked that day, so I scrambled all over the reservation trying to find the appropriate person to talk to about letting me into the park. I had after all, driven "all the way from Seattle", a phrase that would for better or worse, become my mantra while dealing with Muckleshoot's peculiar infrastructure.

Anyway, I finally ended up at the general information kiosk in the main hall of the reservation's pseudo-city hall building. Nothing primitive about the architecture--quite the opposite. The vast hall seemed disproportionate to the reservation's civic needs, but what the hell do I know, I'm just here for the grinds.

"Stay away from the skatepark, Carol Anne."

So there was this very short receptionist at the kiosk. She looked like Zelda Rubinstein, the clairvoyant in The Poltergeist. The lady was fuckin' weird and she knew it and she knew that I knew it. She was listening to and singing along with "    Iko Iko" (I chose the Cyndi Lauper version for the link because the lady had a certain Lauper-ish quality to her, I'd have to say. Not anything that I can really put my finger on, but in the same way Cyndi Lauper has always kind of reminded me of a bag lady, the lady at the desk struck me as having a twinge of the Lauper to her vibe.)
"Hi!" I said to her.
No response, she just kept a rockin... "Is the skatepark open today?" I queried. "I just drove down from Seattle and I see that the gate is locked and I don't understand why..."
"My flag boy and your flag boy..." she was actually singing along to the Madri Gras Indians anthem, right in my face.

"Can I have a paper bag?"

"The skatepark is closed for repairs", I finally got out of her, after she made three or four phone calls and eventually got the Reservation Sheriff to physically arrive and confirm her ludicrous statement.
"Well I've been over at the skatepark and I can tell you that there's nothing wrong with it" I pleaded my case.
There was some trash scattered about, which is what the "repairs" turned out to be. I offered to pick up all the trash if they'd let me skate.
"The repairs have been scheduled", Zelda Lauper scorned me.
I left without skateboarding that day.

The next time I went down there I hopped the fence and skated the park without incident.

Muckleshoot Skatepark: Drink it in. No, really. Drink it in.

Today I hopped the fence as well but eventually security showed up. I skated there by myself for awhile and suddenly felt like wearing my helmet. Lame? Maybe, but I was illegally skating by myself on a somewhat eerie Federal Indian Reservation. I wasn't trying to get knocked out.

So there I am riding, helmet on the noggin when the security dude showed up.
I've been reading this book called The Art Of Happiness by His Holiness the Dali Lama, and part of it talks about compassion. It's a trip. That is to say I've been tripping out on it. It's like a little game that I'm playing with myself these days--I'm trying to zap all these fools with my compassion rays--breaking relationships down to universal similarities rather than arbitrary differences.

RIP Yauch

Anyhow when the Reservation security guy showed up I zapped him.
"What's up man, how are you?" I asked tentatively.
"So you're down here trespassing on my property..."
"Aw man, I meant you absolutely disrespect. I just drove down from Seattle and I had to skate! Kid in a candy store I guess..."
"Well I understand that," he said. "We keep it locked when it's wet and dangerous, but it looks pretty dry today..."
"It's riding great!" I enthusiastically assured him.
The fellow sheepishly wished me a good morning and split. The park was unlocked, and I kept skating. Compassion, dude. Compassion.