Interning at the Cheapest Place on Earth

By Chris "C4" Rice

BIKE Mag interns ride bikes, drink crunk, meet rappers, and cavort with all that is plastic and surreal in Southern California. This could be you.

Interning at Bike Magazine doesn’t pay, literally. But to say the intern’s job goes uncompensated would be dead wrong. Some things are more valuable than money

Whether it’s bright red oversized t-shirts or college credit, there’s generally something an intern can take home after a long day at the office. At work, being the intern means doing a wide variety of fun tasks including filing, shipping, fact-checking and making coffee runs. On the road, however is a different story. That’s where the biggest perks come from. Traveling with the magazine staff means exciting opportunities to attend events that people like me normally never see.

My first experience traveling with the staff was to Las Vegas for Interbike, the bike industry’s annual carnival. It’s like a giant toy store with everything a bike enthusiast would ever want, plus a whole bunch of stuff nobody cares about.

I’d seen pictures of Interbike before, but they couldn’t quite prepare me for what the show was really like. Imagine 15-acres of bikes, bike gear and bike gadgets with 20,000 bike people crammed into the Sands Expo center. It’s easy to get confused and overwhelmed. Everywhere I went there were people, and surprisingly they were all friendly. From the racers, to the businessmen all the way down to our fellow media folk, everyone was cool. I don’t think I’ve ever met such sociable and polite strangers. Maybe that’s because they remember me from the first night at the Dirt Demo Dustoff pumping free Fat Tire Ale. Anyway, the Interbike attendees get two thumbs up.

Next was Hollywood. I was fortunate enough to make the invite list to Oakley’s launch party for their new Thump 2 sunglasses. I’m from Fessenden, North Dakota, I’ve never been to Hollywood before. I wasn’t sure what to expect. At the Oakley party, there were celebrities and pro athletes. We were just postin’ up with the likes of Shannon Elizabeth, Ricky Carmichael, Michael Andretti and the showstopper, the King of Crunk!!!, Lil Jon. As expected, the Crunk!!! Juice flowed freely. I also learned being in Hollywood at an invite only VIP party means a person still has to wait in line forever to get a drink. Only this line is different. Instead of being behind a long crowd of people, there is a shorter line with pretty-boy bartenders who think they can earn a larger tip by tossing bottles around like clowns juggling bowling pins. But the drinks were still free, and terrible too. A vodka and Crunk!!! tasted like neither of the ingredients. But it was still free until they ran out (they were then able to make all their money back from me by selling $6 Tiger beers).

Although, I’m not much a fan of Lil Jon or the Ying Yang Twins, watching them perform live was straight dope, as they say. I’ve heard “Get Low” a few too many times, but it was still pretty impressive live. Lil Jon seemed like a cool dude, too. He was giving high fives and chatting with people in the crowd the whole time. I hoped the night would never end, but it did with me driving home from Hollywood at 3 a.m. with three passed out magazine editors.

My next outing was to the inaugural Red Bull Road Rage at Tuna Canyon in Malibu. Just so you know, it was another invite only event. The Tuna Canyon road was built in World War II times as a way to get supplies and troops to the coast if the Japanese invaded and bombed the other roads. As it sits today, the road is one-way going down for the people who live at the top of the canyon. The race was a kind of experimental downhill event.

Considering it was the first time anything like this was attempted, I would say the race went pretty smooth. As expected, there was an invite-only event at the Key Club in Hollywood after the invite-only event in Malibu. This party didn’t have free booze, but there was free food. At the Key Club I was exposed to something I have never seen before—psychobilly music, which is basically punk music with a standing bass and 50’s clothing.

So anyway, after all is said and done I’ll have my precious credits that I need to graduate college and my wallet will be much lighter, but I’ll have some good experiences. Best of all, my stories will be better than any of my friends back in North Dakota.

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