By Joel Warner
By Michael Roberts
By Alan Prendergast
By Michael Roberts
By Michael Roberts
By Amber Taufen
By Patricia Calhoun
By William Breathes
Get wet with Dave Davis: I always say that I'm the redheaded stepchild of the Wetboys. That's why I call myself "The Dry Girl." I met Styles years ago, when he first moved here from Arizona, but I also knew Trevor and Saba before that. Just hanging out, drinking with them, skating. I've had these open warrants on me for the past four years, so I haven't been able to skate anywhere but the skatepark. But now I got them cleared up, so I can start hitting up the streets again.
They don't give a fuck, and that's good, because I don't give a fuck. It's the way we live life, day by day. It was just a bunch of kids that didn't give a fuck about life. I don't think I had to do an official initiation, but I've definitely been intoxicated a few times and gotten wet as fuck. Made out a while ago with Gordy and other fools. I crashed at a few of the Wethouses. I had a room at the one on Capitol Hill; it was gnarly. You'd wake up wondering who the hell is sleeping next to you. Who the hell is this girl, and where did she come from?
The filthy bathroom was the worst thing. The downstairs one was clogged and had shit overflowing for like a year. Shit on the floor. We just shut the door and never went in. I swear there was a shit monster living in there. I heard it breathing once. It just sat in there and ate shit.
I got a clean bathroom now. I got my own place with my girlfriend, who I've been with for nine months. It's nice. It sucks not having a Wethouse, but now it's like when you see one of the dudes, you're almost more stoked because you haven't been living on top of them for the past month. But I'm over it. I'm going to be thirty in a few years.
A cigarette clutched in his left hand, Saba wipes the water off a block of marble with his right. It's a gray day, right after a spring snowstorm. Businesspeople are walking by Skyline Park wearing scarves and knit caps.
"Are you going to try to slide the rail?" Trevor asks.
Saba shakes his head and looks over at his girlfriend, a timid little thing hidden behind bangs and a bike rack on the sidewalk. They've known each other about a year and a half. She comes out with him "sometimes, when he asks," she says, but admits that it can get pretty boring watching them try to land skateboard tricks after the thirtieth-ish try. Saba works not far from here, at an upscale Mexican restaurant catering to yuppies and yuppie wannabes. He makes sure the beer and wine are stocked, the kegs full. He doesn't have to talk to anyone. It's the greatest job he's ever had.
He stands on one end of a long cement block, then hops on his board and ollies over the rail, attempting to ride down some stairs on the opposite end. But his board pops too high and flies ten feet into the chilly sky, nearly landing on some pantsuit-wearing professional women, who flash him an angry look.
Mark Spencer is here with his video camera. He adjusts the lens and gets back into position. The Wetboys' entry for the 2007 Way of the Warriors contest wasn't up to par with the previous year's submission. Maybe the prizes weren't as good, but it's never been about the prizes. It's about pride. Street cred, the only currency that should matter. And right now, for whatever reason — pursuing personal ambitions, pursuing the bottom of a bottle — the Wetboys are no longer the Way of the Warriors champions. But dudes can't skate every day, all day. They get tired of being broke and hung over. They get jobs and girlfriends and apartments with clean towels. Reilly has stopped skateboarding. Jay is in prison for assault. Gordie is moving to California to work for a skateboard company. Thomas is leaving for Maine next week.
The Warriors title has passed on to a different crew.
Spencer is trying to get some footage for the reality-show pilot, which will also include old Wetboys video. His own experience with the reality show has been "bipolar," the 27-year-old says, and frowns. "They say they want to show our world. I'm hoping they'll get as far away from the reality-show formula as possible."
Life of Ryan, MTV's current reality show based on seventeen-year-old pro-skateboarder Ryan Sheckler, gives him nightmares. "It's exactly the representation of skateboarding that I don't want," Spencer says. Rich kids driving around Southern California McMansions in SUVs complaining about how they can't get girlfriends and win contests. Unlike a Wetboys video, the Sheckler show does not make you want to run out and skateboard. Run out to the mall, maybe, where you can buy a Sheckler T-shirt, but not go skateboarding.
A show that captures the Wetboys honestly could be an antidote. But Micah wonders if this is even possible. The producers "want the Wetboys in 2003 that they'd heard about to be on the show now, when a lot of people have changed or whatever," he says. Can you ever go back to the way things were, like grown-up Peter Pan, and recapture the magic, the fun, the pure love between boys? Can you grow up without growing up?