One Shit Wonders

Remember the Boomtown Rats? I do, but not because their lone hit "I don't like Mondays" ever made a dent in Kasey Kasem's Top 40. I remember this New Wave novelty because their frontman was the first coddled pop star on my rock radar who used his stardom and influence to do something positive for mankind. I remember Boomtown Bob's Live Aid concert because it was the same day I scraped human shit off a naked teenager's back.

For everyone who hasn't seen the VH1 documentary, Live Aid was a transatlantic music festival broadcasted live from London's Wembley Stadium and Veteran's Stadium in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Bob Geldof earned a KBE from the Queen of England for using this event to raise funds and awareness for the helpless citizens of  a starving nation. I was in Philadelphia managing a BMX team the night Geldof, his Boomtown Rats and dozens of other pop stars made history. The stars in my stunt squad were Mike Buff, Ceppie Maes and a new kid named Dizz Hicks. 

Buff was the veteran of the CW Trick Team, and at 21 he was the oldest and highest-paid performer on the bill. Ceppie Maes was an innovative flatland rider and my roommate. Dizz was a 19-year-old heavy metal maniac from NorCal with nothing to lose and everything to prove. Ceppie, Buff and I met the third man in our trick team trio less than a month earlier, so pecking order was still under construction when we pulled into the Philly Super 8 Motel.

Of course, tickets for Live Aid were scarce in The City of Brotherly Love, so I ordered hotel pay-per-view and the four of us watched Bruce Springsteen sing "Karma Chameleon" with Boy George over room service pizza. No speed metal bands were on the Live Aid bill, so Dizz finished his dinner and called dibs on the bathroom. Before he could tear the sanitary seal off the crapper, Buff bolted from his bed, blocked the bathroom door and offered this disturbing challenge:

"Hey Dizz—I'll give you 50 dollars if you let me shit on your back!"

"Fifty dollars—are you serious?"

Hell yeah—it'll be rad!"

"Fuck that," I screamed to no one in particular. "I wouldn't let someone shit on me for any less than a hundred."

"OK," Buff, replied, "one hundred dollars!"

Ceppie finished his pizza, turned down the TV and calmly offered his take on Buff's sucker bet."Don't do it, Dizz—I've seen Buff pay dudes way more than a hundred bucks to do stupid shit, and they didn't even have to get naked."

"Who said anything about gettin' naked?" Dizz recoiled.

Buff responded, quite seriously, "I wouldn't let someone shit on MY back with my pants on!"

Dizz seemed confused by Buff's lowbrow challenge, but the wheels were turning beneath the platinum blonde curls exploding from his naive head.

"Tell you what, fucker—gimme 200 and buy me a new pair of jeans and you're on!"

"Make it 180 and you don't have to pay for the pants I already bought you…"


With that, Dizz peeled off his Spandex jeans and leopard-print bikini briefs and laid naked on the motel floor. In a frantic tone barely audible through the pillow between his face and the filthy carpet, Dizz begged Buff to drop the load so he could jump up and take a shower. Buff complied, but not before stripping naked himself to avoid shitting into his own Jimmy'z beach jams.

Facing Dizz's feet with his freckled package dangling inches above the small of his back, Buff squatted low over Dizz's shoulder blades and strained in silent concentration. Shrieks of mock disgust sliced through the hotel walls as Ceppie clenched a bony hand over his animated face to hold back the bile brewing in his retching maw. The room fell silent when the first inch of Buff's toilet turtle poked out its stinking brow, but exploded in chaos when, by tiptoeing forward over Dizz's writhing torso, Mike pinched two, five and eventually nine inches of steaming feces on Dizz's spine.

"Ged ehd auf! Ed's hauwd… ged ehd auf!" Dizz screamed into his pillow, but no one could comprehend his request.

"'Get it off, it's hot,' he's sayin'," Ceppie deciphered, so I grabbed the ice bucket and dragged it across Dizz's back. On first pass my handiwork smeared shit into the nooks and crannies of Dizz's back like fudge frosting on a sponge cake. I scraped again, but after three swipes there were no more clean edges left on my shit shaper. When I turned around to throw the poop-covered putty knife into the motel parking lot, Buff and Dizz bolted for the shower. Neither man was willing to concede first ablutions to the other, so they jumped in together and lathered up. Meanwhile, Cep was still retching uncontrollably and jumping between the beds like a spider monkey.

In the end, Buff got his kicks, Dizz got his 180 bucks and everyone got along. As our first tour progressed, many outlandish challenges followed, and none of us were immune to the toxic lure of cheap laughs and easy money. For Ceppie, it was naked upside-down push-ups. My day came in the shape of a rubber sex toy. Dizz sprinted naked from a downtown savings & loan through our hotel lobby for another free pair of pants. Hell—even the wily vet Mike Buff cashed in his dignity for a free lunch at McDonald's now and then. What the CW Trick Team lacked in skill and daring they compensated for with energy and brotherhood. Those were fun times for everyone, and none of us will ever forget them.

After our first and last freestyle tour in '85, Buff and I never saw each other again. Ceppie and I have stayed in touch for 23 years, but regrettably, his efforts in that regard are more consistent than mine. Dizz had a rough patch after his glory days, but seemed no worse for wear when the three of us celebrated the twentieth anniversary of our first tour at Large Ray's BMX reunion in 2005.

When I look at creepy photos of old drunks who are 20 years past their prime, I ask myself…

Will today's freestyle stars feel the same way about the other guys in this photo when they look at it in 2028?

Probably not.


1 comment:

Neckdeep said...

This will make a wonderful companion piece to the newly released FREESTYLIN' book. I'm going to print this out and place it inside the Dizz spread....right after I wash out my mouth.

I just puked a little bit.

.: Chris