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I used to skate
Hey Ho!
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Hey Ho! is much like those traditional Russian dolls. It’s a skater bar, yes, but when you twist it open there’s a radical punk inside, the kind that shuns nearly everything and spits on façades and your new bambas. Pull that doll into two and Hey Ho! is home to skate mag and brand events where young whippersnappers take a challenge then three shots before dropping into the bar’s modest half-bowl while wearing a dress or, perhaps, nothing at all.
Keep peeling the onion and you find a hardcore bar at Raval’s lowest, most forgotten corner, the stomping grounds of ye old quinta flota, the American Marines that gave so many young girls a bit of coin if not the dreams they grew up on. When owners, Sol, Maxi and Ramón scraped layer after layer of paint off of the wall they found plenty of Lolas carved into what used to be their changing room. Now it’s just a place to have a friendly beer at an affordable price and watch with satisfaction as the aforementioned young whippersnappers show they’re rightfully pissed off, that the system is complete shite, and that they couldn’t give a rat’s fucking ass about your new Ray Bans.
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