The Top 10 Worst Skate Spots in New York City

June 24th, 2006 | 3:45 am | Features & Interviews | No Comments

Through all walks of life, we, as people, encounter many other individuals on their own path of existence. Some of these people we will appreciate, while most usually incite a feeling of indifference, or pure hatred on the basis of them spitting when they talk, their political beliefs or a tendency to say “nigga” all the time when they lack the necessary melanin to be granted such a privilege would be several examples of sources of dislike. When such a person happens to come within our circle of human interaction, we try our best to avoid them, although commonly, it grows to be an impossibility – whether you have a friend who buys PCP off of that given person or female friend thinks this person’s rub-on tanned face and spiked, bleached hair goes well with the XS Armani shirt from the children’s department that the given asshole may be wearing – it is not possible for one to simply surround themselves with those who they approve of. In a similar fashion, skateboarding happens to sprout numerous associations with inanimate objects known as spots, and while it is simple to merely avoid a given hellhole [most likely on Avenue A and 9th Street] when you are journeying throughout the cool summer night on your own four wheels with no one else around you, one’s associates commonly drag opposing parties via excuses like “We’ll only be there for five minutes” or “I just need to give something to someone real quick” and wind up breaking the agreement. This is a guide to the top ten places within the city’s five boroughs [although strangely enough, all ten are located within the borough that spells “unproductive” when you look at it through a mirror] that you should avoid if you are looking to avoid several hours of relentless torment.

10. Lincoln Center

Ok, now getting off to an immediate turn away from what you once perceived as a bad spot, which most would identify as a set of stairs with a crack before it, a ledge that doesn’t grind or a spot that’s polluted by goth kids wearing UFOs, it’s important to illustrate the point that the best spot in the city, can wind up being far and away one of the worst. Lincoln Center could be best compared to some beautiful big booty ho that you once knew that was also a conceited bitch. Not only that, but she also had a parade of Haitians following her around at all times, blowing whistles at you whenever you happen to step near her. While parades of angry Haitians ultimately wind up being a detractor from any relationship, most have grown conscious of the fact that it is best to stay away from this place, making it the smallest threat on the list.

9. Up Rails

Remember that Master P song, “Killer Pussy?” No? Well it had a skit in the beginning that is very relevant to the location at hand…
Master P: Yo Ann, what’s up?
Ann: What’s up?
Master P: Shiiiiiiiitttttt girl, you know you got it goin’ on and the whole thing, but it’s like this here: How come every nigga you fool wit, shit, wind up gettin’ shot or killed, what’s up with that?
Ann: Maaaaaan, nigga that shit ain’t true.
Master P: Yeah? Well, what about Mike, what happened to him?
Ann: Oh…ummm….that nigga…..they found that motherfucker in a ditch somewhere.
Master P: Well what about that other nigga….Joe [who] you used to fool with, what happened to him?
Ann: Maaaan, Joe was trippin’ man. You know, he owed some nigga some money, and, you know, if you don’t pay up, you just get got.
Master P: Uhhh…what about your baby daddy, what he did?
Ann: That motherfucker was trying to sell dope and smoke it at the same fuckin’ time. Ignorant ass motherfucker. I’m glad he gone.
Master P: So, you don’t think your pussy be like…yankin’ niggas? Know what I’m saying?

Up Rail’s pussy has been “yankin’ niggas” ever since it came it came to light as a spot several years back. It took three people completely out of commission during it’s first week of existence, and currently stands at the number one threat from a health perspective in regards to the city’s precious resource of skaters who leave the TF. It isn’t nearly as threatening as the other spots listed here, granted the fact that it does take a certain amount of heart in managing to overcome this massive hunk of metal that really is a “killer pussy” at heart. It tends to bring about an identical sense of resentment as that of a woman whose vaginal cavity tends to be cursed and she just can’t seem to explain why whenever the inquiry comes forth.

8. Indoor Ten

Possibly the final spot that could be considered “good” by superficial standards on this list, Indoor Ten is best compared to everything you could ever want in a beautiful woman, smooth ground, no cracks in the wrong places, perfect size, well lit and a solid landing. Now take those things, and imagine that she has a massive crab problem. Except the crabs come in the form of 1) Spanish people getting off the 7 train from Jackson Heights 2) People in suits and 3) the super crabs of the bunch, which are the police officers who come over and beat you up against the wall with nightsticks when they catch you skating….or invading their territory.

7. Chinatown Banks

Every once in a while, it is common to undergo a task that you really don’t feel comfortable doing. This task often comes in the form of a fat woman with rough, cobblestone bumps all over her body and a crusty lip. The Chinatown Banks should be approached in the same manner. While executing this task may be no cakewalk, it is however, somewhat necessary to accomplish it in order to provide a distinction between you and everyone else. “Yeah, I had sex with Roseanne” and “I managed to do a trick on the Chinatown Banks” both ring in the same rhythm, and while both actions may lack a certain pleasantness which we wish to have in all of our daily activities, they require a good old fashioned pat on the back, whether or not it induces a cringe of the heart and soul. The distinction and separation from the crowd are what count.

6. The Front of Union Square

Union is a congregation for all the confused and conflicted individuals who are unsure of their next step in life. Call it a directory of sexual fetish websites if you will, but there is no other place in the city that provokes the Goths to climb out of the sewers, put on their black lipstick and run to skate a curved curb or a four-stair while holding their World Industries board by the trucks as much as Union does. On the contrary end of things, there is also no other place so friendly to the kids in their fake Evisus and Jordans asking every person in sight to teach them how to ollie on their new board with plastic trucks. Combine this perverse directory of psychos with an ensemble of cabs on a mission to run over your board if you just so happen to slip out and you have this wonderful location here.

5. The Island Across from Union Square

It is bad enough that Union is the melting pot of sick, perverted fetishists that it is, but its neighboring island of concrete is for those who just so happen to be sick enough to get exiled from the initial, much larger center of sexual perversion. This island is like one of those people who you avoid on the basis of them having a sick reputation behind them. Like the pretty girl who everyone knows is notorious for shitting on peoples’ chests, or some dude who all the girls are afraid to talk to even though his Dunks match his hat because he unexpectedly peed on his last three girlfriends.

4. Union Square “Bank” to “Ledge”

Following the trend of its neighbors, this place may be the most vile perpetrator of the 14th Street region. While the other two culprits have redeeming qualities in the sense that they still somehow manage to follow the path which God sent them on in life [e.g. wearing pants], even though they may indulge in fulfilling their perverse tendencies at the expense of others in the bedroom. Even Union itself couldn’t be considered “the cross-dresser of spots,” which is exactly what this spot is. Who the hell decided that a piece of sidewalk that elevates at a five-degree angle from even ground into a perpendicular metal ledge and then crashes into a wall is a spot? Even more so, how the hell is it called a “bank to ledge?” Perhaps in the same way that you consider that thing with hairy legs you paid five dollars to give you a “massage” at Hunt’s Point last weekend a “woman.” Good luck sleeping at night.

3. 9th street, in between avenue a and first avenue

One’s voyage to the TF could be best described as the daily routine of a chronic masturbator. This block long strip, that usually seems endless when you seem to be crashing and burning down it, could easily be compared to the long spiral of torment the given culprit undergoes when he is battling the urge to do what he loves best: sit on a bench and occasionally get up to wait in line so that he may do a boardslide on a flatbar. Like the masturbator, the skateboarder knows he or she is not going to receive the real feeling behind doing the heart of his activity, so in other words, no skateboarding actually happens at the TF, in the same way that no love-making happens behind the screen at the given pornography website of choice. This strip is the person’s last chance to avoid the torment of the worst spot in New York City, yet it is still guilty and well-deserving of its position provided that once someone is on 9th, rarely does he ever turn back and re-evaluate what he is doing.

2. Tompkin’s Square Park Deli

This stage could be best viewed as the black hole one enters when they are about to reach the core of their vice. In the same way a skateboarder would buy a nice bag of chips and fifty cent soda so that they may settle down and wallow in the pool of hellish unproductiveness across the street, the masturbator spends hours looking for the perfect scat fetish website that suits his needs, so he/she may feel genuinely comfortable with themselves when they insult the time God has granted them on this wonderful world of ours.

1. The TF

There is almost nothing left to say. Only tears to be shed for those who willingly subject themselves to the torment bestowed upon them by this awful hell of thirteen-year-old Spanish hood rats from the Avenue D projects, kids throwing bottles and hipster doofuses checking to make sure that everyone can see the new SBs on their feet and allow the phrase “Whoa dude! He’s skating in some totally exclusive shoes! He must totally not like care and stuff!” to float throughout their heads. Truly, the words “spot” and “TF” are a mismatch made in heaven, but it is much too difficult to allow its years of torment on the innocent population of skateboarders in our city go unrecognized. Trap or die.

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