I was 14 years old. Me and my 2 friends started to pick up catching tags with markers in the street, due to bordom; and the slight adrenaline rush before and after catching a tag was a good enough reason for three smart asses to be entertained. I was still nervous about the blaintenly breaking the law to pass time. My friends were less worried. They wanted to do bigger and better things with our new hobby.

It never really occured to me that people take grafitti seriously. They wanted to bomb the 18th to 23rd street subway tunnel on the 1/9 train line. We studied the tunnel for weeks as we passed my via train before we made plans. I deffinatly didn't want to do it. But I didn't want to seem trepid infront of my two older friends. They made all the arangments, I just tagged along. The plan was to do white paint rollers on the dirty, coroded, concrete walls of the tunnel. They would be visable from the trains as they passed through. We were armed with two buckets up premium Rustolium paint, a paintroller, and a dish for the paint.

As 3:30 am rolled around, we got prepared. Dressed in black, backpacks with supplies, we were ready. It was a feeling we had never felt before; the eagerness to voluntaraly break the law in an unsafe enviornment, when every other freshman in school was probably at home and asleep. We approached the turnstyle, and hopped it. My friends did not seem nervous at all. Meanwhile, I was about to crap my pants. As we approached the tunnel, I hesitated.

"Come on you pussy" said my friend. I realized they were going in weather I was or not, so I followed them in. We passed through the Do Not Enter sign like we didn't even see it. We were in. My anxiety wore off a little bit. It was easy to see, hear, an feel the trains about a half minute before they even got close. It was even easier to not be seen.

I looked out for my two friends as they as they anxiously tried how to figure out how to put some style into they paintrolled tags. Eventually it was my turn. It took about 10 minutes. It looked like crap. But it was fun. They read out in big letters, CHIEF PRONE CRAS, and we were proud of ourselves. We accomplished our goal.

There is no better feeling than steppimg out of the tunnel, and hopping up to the the platform. The thrill of breaking the law in a unique manor, and getting away with it. I stepped out of the station and walked home to the sunrise. I thought to myself, I could do this more often.

The beginning....

The First Time

The first time I remember listening to hip-hop was at my 5th year of age. In other words, my birthday. Raised in a spanish household with a very spanish father, you would have never thought that he would be the one to spark my interest in hip-hop music. It opened my mind and disabled me from being small minded. My father pulled out a vinyl record and put it on the record player. For something that has been out for over 10 years, It was new. The beat caught my attention from the moment the record started playing. The lyrics were original, and like nothing live ever heard. Ever since that day, I thank my father for the gift which he and my mother gave me. They did not know at the time that it would become part of my life. The gift that my father gave me was that the gift that his father gave him, which was my love for hip-hop music in all of its forms.