Thrasher Magazine

What could be so exciting that would cause a grown man to have a “nocturnal emission” in the middle of a 14-hour international flight? We won’t name names, but it might’ve happened to a certain East Coast Italian-American plaza skater. We can’t make this shit up. Maybe it was the fantasy of a three-country tour through Asia with Jacuzzi Unlimited that triggered his involuntary in-flight ejection. How would I know? I don’t even know how the dumbest team in skateboarding planned this trip to begin with—together we’ve got the combined IQ of a microwaved marshmallow. Luckily, we touched down in Beijing without any more messy situations onboard. But once we got to the gate, airport security immediately swarmed our filmer Adam, inquiring about his absurd amount of SteelStik. All of this is to say, we had a warm welcome at our first stop in China.



Just 'cause you didn't get a seat in the Fuck You bus, doesn't mean you can't catch every hectic clip from their whirlwind tour

Security said to leave, so he listened. Switch heel-o by Dilo on the way out

A First-Class Fuck You!
Once on Chinese soil, we got our first good omen of the trip: a man in a XXXL leather jacket, pants that would make Big Boys look like Kr3w slims and a head tattoo. His name was Black, and he would be our spirit guide for the rest of the trip. With our dripped-out new friend, we couldn’t be seen rolling around Beijing in a base-model Econoline. Don’t let our cute and unserious demeanor fool you, we are all business. We are The Wolf of Wall Street over here. Our mode of transportation? A private bus and driver, of course. While your favorite team is crammed in a 2008 Prius circling the same blown-out blocks of house spots, Jacuzzi is getting chauffeured around China in a luxury bus that screams nothing short of a metaphorical Fuck You!

You're our boy, Black

Throwback to Osiris per diem

All aboard

Who are the VIPs in this first-class whip? We got big-timers John Dilo, Louie Barletta, Tony Latham, Zander Mitchell and Joey Marrone. Like I said, we’re all business, so it’s straight to the streets. First spot, a giant gap to hill bomb that probably nobody besides Tone should even be looking at. We’re not exactly Jacuz1000 over here. But lo and behold, our resident tech dog John Dilo treks to the top of this mountain and just starts tossing his carcass. Yeah, the fucking “manual pad” guy, just spilling blood for the love. John is a different beast than the calculated dude you knew a year ago. After moving to SF, he’s become psychotic and manic—like a true Jordan Belfort screaming, “I ain’t going nowhere!” After Zander and Tony got their licks and Joey lost his shirt—a bathroom complication, don’t ask—we were on our way with our first clips in the can.



The ledges in China still live up to their reputation; they’re beautiful. A dream for Zander, who rifled off trick after trick with complete ease, damn near asleep—poetically mocking all the other companies that slept on him over the years. After days of successful missions, the boys got rewarded with lavish dinners of carved duck and other fancy stuff with names we forgot. Did you know you can make soup with duck’s blood?



Tone puts his mark on the Red Wall of China

DJ Dilo handled the aux, pumping tunes more fucked than that Papa Roach song he skated to. The playlist wasn’t the only thing bringin’ the hits. Just a few days in, Adam’s hand was getting tired from marking the piling mountain of clips. What better sign to take our asses to Taiwan?

Pulled from the OG’s playbook, Tony goes noseblunt finger flip on China’s smoothest slant

The Land of 7-Elevens
Parting ways with the Fuck You Bus obviously threatened morale. All good, we were welcomed in Taiwan with open arms and a new Hellride-approved van filled with camping chairs. You can’t appreciate first class if you haven’t whiffed a fart in coach.
       Taiwan, for those who don’t know, is the global leader of 7-Eleven density. That might not be true, but you can stand in front of one while clocking another two down the same block—a truly beautiful sight and another marker of America’s decline. Brain-dead trip jargon immediately took root with new names and acronyms for our go-to staples. A “tuna triangle” (onigiri) hates to see us roll up and get washed down with a “BMW” (beer, Monster, water). In these streets, we were gonna be just fine outside the shine of Michelin Stars.



Fueled up and lightly buzzed, it was back to business. Got the pin to an immaculate mosaic quaterpipe? Say less. Tony Latham tossed out a Sal flip for the OGs, before the actual OG Louie Barletta backed him up with an on-brand blunt airwalk worthy of an article opener. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks and you don’t need to. Still, Louie couldn’t quit with the clips, so he headed straight from the session to a barber for what he calls a “mystery haircut.” And no, that’s not a new name for a bowl cut.

Foot-LOUsey Barletta gets his kicks in Taiwan with a blunt airwalk

Now, for as fucked as we come off, we like to think Jacuzzi Unlimited is for the children. We still do the wholesome shit, like bringing the pros to the people. Even in Taiwan, crowds amassed, kids were stoked, and after every poster was signed, we were feelin’ pretty good about actually doing our job… until Joey put a hole in the local skatepark trying a fuckin’ footplant. Feeling the spirit of our boy Black, we saw the park’s fresh wound for what it was: an omen to get movin’.

Canadian and kinky, Zander “The Total Package” Mitchell crooks down some gorgeous Taiwanese granite




Tuna Triangle: Onigiri or rice balls with different kinds of fish that you can get at any convenience store in Asia. They were our life support.

Nocturnal Emission: An involuntary ejaculation that occurs while sleeping, usually happens to pubescent boys, but as we learned, also full-grown dudes from Jersey.

Duck Blood Soup: Exactly what it sounds like.

Mystery Haircut: Google Translate “Can I get the same haircut as the last customer?” and roll with it.


Joey’s Lacquer: The seven cans of clear coat Joey got ordered to the spot, only to not skate said spot.

7-Eleven Bar Crawl: You walk to 7-Eleven and buy a single beer, drink it out front. Once finished, walk to a different 7-Eleven down the block and repeat. Do this until it’s time for bed.

Bubbles: Joey’s long lost Chinese twin.


BMW: Beer, Monster, Water—the ultimate hydration pack.

Dumpos: Dumplings of any kind, preferably eaten at the spot.

Kompai: “Cheers” in Japanese. There were a lot of kompais, except when Akai went down.

Claimboarding: In the late hours, you start claiming tricks for the next day that you absolutely will not be performing.





NIGHTMARE FUEL OR FANTASY
From one island to another, it’s off to beautiful Japan to see our friends Yuumac and local flow dude Aiki. Was there another wet dream incident on the flight over? No. Could dry jeans be a sign of tough times ahead? Maybe. Either way, we ended up soaked. The weather spirits were against us as rain poured all week. We looked to the sky asking, “Black, what the fuck did we do wrong? Did we eat too many tuna triangles? What about asking for one more try when it was really ten? Or was it ’cause Joey Marrone didn’t drink the duck blood soup?” Like all gods and spirits, he got real cagey when we asked for a straight-up favor—clear skies. Still, there was no stopping us. We skated through by catching storm breaks, and finally found ourselves at the top of a giant handrail in the countryside of Chiba. Time to test the new dude!



Aiki is one-of-one and we’re stoked he’s with us. We thought he might’ve been claimboarding when talking about his spots. But after a night of screaming the lyrics to “Take On Me” with his shirt off at the bar, Aiki approached the steel behemoth with ease, warming up like it was one of LA’s yellow-park rails. But never forget the Old Man’s adage about what skateboarding owes you. It wasn’t wheelbite in the rain this time, but a hang up on the rail that left our poor friend splayed across the landing with a broken finger and cracked skull. This would be game over for anyone, nothing to do but lay down and wait for the paramedics. But, Jesus Christ, if this little psycho didn’t miraculously resurrect and start walking back up the stairs for one more! We talked him off the ledge and explained that he should roll up to the hospital, not a handrail. And that’s where he went. But Aiki’s cut from a different cloth, and our guy was back in the van after they cleaned him up and cleared his MRI’s. With manual guys huckin’ and flow dudes breakin’ bones, we might be gnarlier than we thought. Is it time to rebrand?

Off the slant to the steel, Joey locks into the weirdest lookin’ back overcook of his life. Fuck, that’s a front Smith

If the bloodshed and honest-to-God ripping threatened our reputation as an unserious band of idiots, the wrap party in the hotel lobby quickly got us back on brand. We can’t tell you what we consumed, ’cause we can’t remember. It might’ve been another five-star meal, but probably just a lot of the first ingredient in a BMW. As we looked over the hotel lobby with our lovely new Japanese friends, scanning our faces in the printer and recalling all of the events of our adventure, we couldn’t help wondering, Was any of this real? Or was is it all just a dream that prompted that fateful first nocturnal emission? We’d ask Joey, but he’s sleeping and we might not like the answer when he wakes up.



Flow dude got somethin’ to prove. Aiki kickflips over the rubbish heap and into his home crust. If only this was the end of the story