We pull up in the parking lot of the convention we are playing at. It's not one of the outdoor ones with a black-top. It's one of the ten story ones. You know, the ones that if you yell at the bottom floor you hear it at the top? Not to mention we got the roof, so we're ten stories high. I'm glad I brought my skateboard. I pull it out of the trunk and grab my mic. Seeming how i'm the singer, I carry the least. Well maybe Sam carries the least. All she has are her drumsticks.
"See ya'!" Is all I say before I hop on the board and skate down it. This way, I'll get down there fast enough so that I can get at least two cigs in my system before the show.
The ramps only do nothing but allow me to pick up speed. So maybe three cigs. I'm only on the downramp on P-Level 8, and i at least have to be going thirty-five. At downramp 7 I'm still increasing in speed. Downramp six, I'm soaring and probably going faster than the legal limit of the street outside the building. At downramp five, I feel like a plane soaring through the blue skies. Every smoke and smog from the car mufflers are the closest thing I'll ever feel to flying through clouds, wich is a childhood dream of mine. Next thing I know, I'm on downramp one, wich means I'm heading to the basement. Then, my plane crashes.
I try to stop by leaning on the tail of my board, bad idea. If I try to to do that at this speed, I'll for sure land on my skull. Shit, the floor is covered in glass and pebbles. In case you don't know, pebbles are a skaters worst nightmare. I roll my sleaves down to my wrists, because my only savior now is hopping of the side of the board. My E.T.A. of hitting the floor is three... two... one...
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Crashing Planes
AcakMeet Heather, the lead singer in an up and coming band heading to New York. Something happens on the way the Big Apple between Ohio and there. She meets an eerie persona. Not only does she keep seeing him, over and over again. The man gives her some...
