A Wordless Contract: Interactions of the Skate Community

Pulling up to the parking lot my car blends against those visiting the drive through ATM at the
shopping center bank. A few scattered cars filled a few spaces throughout the lot. Luckily, none
that interfered with my plans that evening.

As I removed my board from the car I heard the faint sound of trucks slapping against the cart
corral curbs. As I kicked off I saw a man coming back around, preparing for the next attempt. In
the night’s silence we waved at a distance. A mutual respect between us, but careful not to
intrude on one another’s session.

What may not be understandable to the outside world, this is not disrespectful. It’s not rude.
Especially when gathering clips is on the agenda. This is a session hello.

There’s something almost sacred about the silent respect amongst skaters. A feeling of comradery
amongst the anonymous, even when nothing is said between them. Of course there are
conversations at parks and spots. The general public is so used to the comradery of skating as it
is shown in T.V. and movies. Groups of people gathered together sharing drinks and cigs, all
discussing the same thing in a vernacular unknown to most. This is a major way friends are made
and the community continues to grow. But these limited interactions are more frequent than one
may think.

Even if we could’ve gone on never having acknowledged one another at all.

If anything, I think this is what separates skating from everything else. It’s different than fans
huddled together in stands or chugging beers in the parking lot. It’s not even what I imagine
powerlifters experience in the gym, as they spot one another. Though I’d never know myself.

This shows comfortability. A trusting in our ranks. We’re thrilled to see someone else out and
ready to rip. As if we’re all animals having escaped from the zoo. Sure, a quick greeting is
common. But there are plenty of instances when a wave or nod might be all you get. Even with
no names exchanged, this unspoken code of community rests in the open space between every
board.

We’re all in this shit together. Glad you made it out.

I continued on my street-lamp-session. Circling over and over beside the other curb-focused
skater, but never entering each other’s space. Like we were swimming the same channel, but
catching different currents. Kick, attempt, circle, repeat.

Every so often I’d look over and watch him throw himself into every trick. When he landed I’d
clack my board. When he missed it, I egged him on in quiet monk-like support.

Later, I heard doors closing and a car fire up. Looking over, I saw the stranger throw me a wave
from the driver side window as he began to pull away toward the exit. Reciprocating, I managed
to hear a faint goodbye as he drove away, leaving me alone with the blacktop all to myself.