Karma is a Cliche, and Taipei is Weird

RMJ met me out at the amphitheater. Before he got there, I saw a star in the sky that was moving slower than an airplane, but was brighter than Mars. It faded after about a minute, like a satellite. Surely if China needs photos of missile targets in Taipei, the gangsters can just take some from the ground (more on that later). 

The session was good, but the surface is shitty. It's pebble dash, so it's exhausting. As we bombed the 2 km hill back home (it's a steady walking pace, all the way down), I did a trick in front of two girls who were mall grabbing new set ups at a cross walk. They responded with suitable amazement. I'm glad I'm learning Mandarin.

RMJ and I got outside some beers and then rolled back by his house. We went around a corner and I was innocently reminded of why I love Taipei: two trucks, parked end to end, where frantically offloading halves of pigs, in the middle of the street behind the Chinese tourist nightmarket! Why, what fun! How foreigner these foreigners are! I took out my camera to take a photograph and document their exotic customs, and they freaked the fucking fuck out. Fleeing, it dawned on me that this were either $3,000,000 NTD worth of stolen pork, or it was illegal pork to start with, almost certainly on health grounds, destined for the nightmarket. It is only a small consolation that American pork is illegal here, so maybe it was smuggled in from Georgia. 

RMJ has to work in the morning, but I felt irresponsible, so I wandered east, beer in hand. Several hours, beers, and new spots later, I slammed so hard that security guard came out to see if I was OK. I hadn't even noticed that there was one. I landed on my right shoulder and left palm, somehow. Now, my neck won't turn to the right. Also, I scrapped some hair off my head. I got back up as the astounded security guard held onto the gate with both hands and an open mouth, and I landed it next try, before the hurt arrived. As I skated away down the empty highway, I looked back and he was now standing in the middle of the road, watching me leave, like he had just seen an alien or a cowboy in a flying saucer. 

Here is where the karma comes in: having criticized anyone who doesn't skate to the spot, I was now one hour skate from home, and that was the last time my neck or upper body could turn to look over my shoulder. Idiot blog in mind, I beered up and kept skating. I stocked up on beer and instant meals at Fami. I might call out of work tomorrow. This was the second hardest slam in many years.