Here's how Erin and I became a couple of those faceless blurry ovals.
Friday. Baltimore, MD.
While skating the bowl in Hampden with Todd, a fourteen-year-old kid from Florida mentions the Dew Tour to me and is shocked to discover that I'd never heard of the event before. In fact, my naiveté caused me to assume the "Dew" was spelled D-O, which I thought was a ridiculous name for a skate tour ... until I found out it was D-E-W as in Mountain Dew ... then I thought "Do" was a much better choice.
Saturday. DC to OC.
After the final Ophelia performance at C.H.A.W., Erin and I drive to Ocean City.
Sunday. Ocean City, MD (birthplace of tasseled sleeveless half-shirts and red Solo cups).
Erin and I find out that the Dew Tour bowl finals are taking place that day... and better yet--the event is FREE. So we take the bus down to the pier to check it out.
Sunday. Grounds of the Dew Tour.
Erin and I find the bowl competition area, but there's a line for standing room only, and it's not moving. We stand around anyway with a handful of other dummies. Eventually, the line gets super long, and we realize that we're pretty close to the front, so we may actually have a shot a getting in.
While waiting, three girls semi-cut in line to chat up the boys who are in line ahead of us. They're flipping their hair, laughing, and being so cool and nonchalant, but everyone in line behind them knows they're just trying to cut.
THEN
One of the sweet bros from the Orwellian Mountain Dew Security Force announces that there's room for ten more people in the standing room area. The girls start easing their way into the mix, but ERIN EXTENDS HER ARM AND BLOCKS THE GIRLS FROM CUTTING IN LINE, saying to the closest girl, "Sorry, Sweetie, but y'all ain't getting in here--you need to go to the back of the line."
THIS WAS THE SINGLE GREATEST MOMENT OF THE DEW TOUR, I'm sure.
Okay, so here's a shot of Bucky from the depths of the Internet.
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