Driving. I’m driving to the airport in El Paso, where I will board a plane (and another and another) and make my way back to Kingston, Jamaica. The darkness of the morning seems to foreshadow the changes to come, yet I am not fully cognizant as to understand it significance at this time. The Pro Impact Stunt Team (PIST) has been invited back to Jamaica for a day of demos following the Easter holiday. Although we did 2 full days of shows last year , we have returned for a shorter, yet more far reaching effort this time around. This year’s team features BMX riders Billy Gawrych and Ommar Estrada along with skateboarders Jeff Ferris, Benji Galloway and myself, Bill Robertson aka Dr. Skateboard.

From El Paso, I made it to Dallas where I met up with Billy and Ommar. We then jet off to meet up with Jeff and Benji, who flew out of LA earlier on the same day. Once on the plane in Dallas, Billy, Ommar and myself (along with the other passengers) found ourselves sitting on the runway due to a weather delay in Miami. At the time, we knew this would make our connection to the Jamaica flight next to impossible, but we enjoyed the time on the runway watching movies and hanging out.

As we arrived in Miami, it was too close to call, as we ran from out gate towards our connecting flight, all the time communicating with each other via cell phone (including Jeff and Benji, who were running interference for us on the ground), and trying our best to make it to the plane before it headed off to Kingston. We were aware that this could pose unique problems, but we stepped up the pace into a full blown hustle through the airport. The gate, of course, laid at the extreme other end of the terminal some 50-60 gates away. While we ran with our carry-on bags, Jeff and Benji engaged in a heated exchange with the ground crew to keep our options open and cover our backsides. Well, with sweat and purpose, we made it to the plane and headed off to Kingston. As we plane took off, a sinking feeling that our bags might not be as swift crossed our collective conscience, but we let that all go as we flew toward Jamaica.

Gazing out the window as we passed over Cuba, the sun setting in the west as the clouds reflected a tranquility of rose and blue hues, I found myself at peace and began to look forward in earnest to this adventure. In the preceding weeks, the gig almost didn’t happen for us all for a number of reasons, but as the plane descended into the heart of the Caribbean, all those anxieties went out the window, and the overwhelming hope of a profound opportunity filled us all.

In Kingston, we were once again detained by immigration, as 5 extreme athletes entering the country warrant suspicion and a need of investigation at every turn. After an eternity (or what seemed to be one), we were properly processed and sent on our way, once, of course, we had paid the necessary tariffs and admission fees. As it turned out, our fleeting suspicions concerning our baggage proved to be correct, as the luggage from the Dallas to Miami flight had not made it, and this was a real drag. Both Billy’s and Ommar’s bikes were missing at this time. Without the bikes, there was really no show, but we still held to that fact that we had a few days before our demos in order to work this all out.

We made our way to the Chrystar Villas, our home base once again in Kingston. After dumping off our bags, we visited a house party and reunited with friends from the trip last year. For me, last year I was overwhelmed by the sights, smells and sounds of Jamiaca, but this year, I knew what to expect and instead began to recognize faces as they recognized me. The stuntmen were back in Jamaica in full force, and the vibe wad kicking into high gear. There was nothing left to do but set it up and get ready to throw it down.

Driving. I’m in a van with the team and we are driving through Kingston on the way out to the country. The demos on Monday will be in Clarendon at Hadley Hall, and they promised to be part of a huge event. The promoters, Gibbons productions, had arranged for the shows to be broadcast live throughout the Caribbean, and we knew the importance of having the show area and the ramps set up and functional. We were assured that “the ramps were already built”, but we remained skeptical as to their completed status. After an hour on the road, we arrived in Clarendon and saw constructed but not functional ramps.

After a bit of observation and discussion, we determined that our most effective course of action was to completely pull apart all the ramps and recut all the transitions. Although this sounds relatively simple, it was a time consuming and inherently laborious process. Couple that with one saw and 2 drills totals, and we knew that it would take a good effort to get it all done by show time. Although the ramps were show not functional, the highlight was watching Benji (in Birkenstocks no less) drop into the quarter pipe with a full four feet of vert. The reconstruction process got into high gear, when Linvol motioned to me, Ommar and Billy to head back to the Kingston airport in search of bikes and our bags.

Driving. I’m in the van driving with Ommar and Billy (with Teddy at the wheel) as we careened toward the airport in search of bikes and bags. Upon arrival once again, we scurried through security (we were in a foreign country, remember?), and got into the baggage claim area. With great anticipation, we awaited the bags, and breathed a collective sigh of relief when Ommar’s bike and bag emerged on the carousel. Yet, with each passing moment, it became clear that both my bag and Billy’s bike and gear weren’t going to be coming out at this time. Bummed (me and Billy) and elated (Ommar), we headed back to the hotel to drop off Ommar and let him build his bike.

Driving. I’m back in the van with Billy and heading through a series of tumultuous neighborhoods, criss-crossing the island to get back to the airport. The familiar scenery, including the cement factory, streamed by once again as we saddled up to the all familiar fates and immigration doorways. We again came away empty handed, and the frustration that had permeated Ommar’s day yesterday was beginning to show up in Billy. No bike meant no show and a whole lot more for him, as he was heading from Jamaica directly on the road with GT. We circumnavigated the gated areas once again, this time with an authorized note from the customs agent that we now knew on a first dame basis. Alas, the baggage claim area was empty for us again, and dejected and frustrated (but not without hope), we silently drove back to the hotel as the sun set on our first full day in Jamaica.

At the hotel, a beaming Ommar having come back from a session with his beloved Lamborghini was stoked. Jeff and Benji showed up burned in the skin, yet high in the spirit, having spearheaded the reconstruction of the ramps in the hot Jamaican sun. After a brief dinner and some pool time to reflect on the day, we all set out for an evening at the local pub within the confines of our hotel, to hoist a few and have some friendly conversation. With one day left ot prepare for the shows, we knew things would be tight, but we kept our faith and stayed focused on working together. We knew we were destined for success.

Driving. I’m back in the van with Billy, yet now we won’t be heading to the airport right away. We spent the day wandering the extremities of Jamaica, as we waited for the afternoon and the opportunity to once again try and find the bags at the airport. The other guys (Jeff, Benji and Ommar) headed out to the demo site to finish the reconstruction project earlier in the AM. We would have much rather been with them, but we feel resolved to do the task in front of us. So, with that mindset intact (“Good to go, Mon!), we wandered from shanty town to shanty town, crisscrossing the island as we made our way up to Yallas and the surrounding countryside.

(CONTINUED - CLICK HERE FOR PAGE 2!)