Red Bull Origin sent skaters to various areas in Venice, California's influential skateboard motherland.
Large crowds gathered each day, and the main event at Windward Plaza was no exception.
With notable faces everywhere, from Bryce Wettstein to Jamie Foy.
All while the judges sat up above like emperors staring down into the Colosseum.
And, as one would expect, Venice brought out a colorful cast of characters.
As I pulled up, I saw an old lady stroll in from the hot concrete toward cheers and music at the beach's edge.
She snuck between the onlookers, observing the youthful performances on slim wooden stages lathered in the signature Dogtown graffiti style.
When she had enough, she turned and cackled wildly like a devious witch before returning to society.
Thirst and Big L
She was almost instantly replaced by a man wearing three jackets, who ran down the grassy embankment with three skateboards and a bicycle.
One backpack pocket was jammed with a small bushel of bananas.
Strolling the dividing barrier where TJ Rogers made a massacre of the grind boxes, Red Bull girls, outside their natural habitat of college campuses/bars, pestered if anyone needed to be "refreshed."
The crowd members' hands reached out like arms through prison bars, begging for water to cool them in the hot sun.
But when the reps reached into their bags, producing Red Bulls, the hands drew back, disgusted by the very offer.
As Zion Wright pressed on beyond an earlier beating, proving how he's truly made of metal, I thought I would catch a beating by a man beside me wearing a shirtless shirt held together only by the sleeves.
Unable to see his face beneath the large motorcycle helmet, I heard him intensely stretch his glove-clad hands and grunt as if preparing to shoot a fireball my way.
And then, the music of Big L slowly began to fall away (much to my dismay).
The Drunk and the Truck
Awkwardly, the booth up above asked for everyone to clear the floor.
When the music didn't continue, it became clear that someone refused the request.
All skaters stopped so the crowd could see a drunk man in a green beanie struggling to keep himself upright as he pushed around on his board.
After asking him repeatedly to leave, Gary Rogers began to roast the intruder before security guided him out.
Soon, the Best Trick section arrived, and Red Bull surprised the crowd by driving in a pickup truck decked out with a box and bar in the bed.
A constant barrage of skaters gunned toward the truck, each needing to clear their board and body for the next participant hot on their heels.
During this, I stood with a group of Andy Anderson stans (helmets excluded, however), calling out and cheering every time his board hit the floor.
After many minutes of this, one of them commented that if Anderson heard them, he'd "probably think it's his parents."
Words by Chuck Harp | Writer