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Called a bad surfer an asshole and felt pretty good about it–still do!

November 15, 2015
I called this clueless woman an asshole the other day. And I felt pretty good about it. This woman who looks like a wooden puppet that has been left out in the rain, and has a hollow laugh that echoes in her waterlogged wooden head. SHe can;t surf for poop, and jumps up and down on her board like she’s trying to shake a turn loose from her butt, and applauds herself. In the water she talks to everybody, then when a wave comes paddles around them and tries to snake their wave. There’s not one guy or woman who regularly surfs the place who can stand her. When I hear her stupid laugh, part of a good day dies. She is usually laughing as she paddles back out after she has snaked someone.
I sit outside for the set waves. And Madame Chucklehead paddles out to my left anytime she sees me moving or senses an outside wave. She doesn;t sit out there and wait for them. So she gets far to my left to snake the wave through the foam, instead of taking off at the peak.
I start paddling and I hear her say, “I’m going right, not left.”
Now, she’s telling me what to do! I kept paddling, she naglerd her board across mine and kept going as I said, “You’re an asshole.” She shook her head. “You’re an asshole.” She shook her head. “You’re an asshole.”:
Then she paddles back out, and starts talking to all the other people just like her. The one thing about morons, they all know each other, it gives them a sense of belonging.
She can say what she wants, but she didn’t get to my left again for the rest of the day. They just hate being called on their behavior.But from this day forward, she does not exist out there. She’s jusy a piece of kelp in a wetsuit.
And I could care less. I go out there to surf, and I adapt, and if I have to bark, it ends there.
When surfing first got stupid in Santa Cruz, it was partial fallout from thye tech boom, who blew apart the beach houses, raised rents, and drove locals out of surf spots and their clubs, and replaced them with McMansions, permit parking, surf classes, contests, and fundraisers to make themselves look cool without sacrificing their income and lifestyle. Now, there’s a second round, these are the children of the first group of idiots, who are paddling out there with their parents, so it’s Kooks Squared,
It’s funny. The first people surfing were surfers and very few women surfers (mainly because the women wanted nothing to do with guys who seemed to be going nowhere in their careers.), then as the tech thing happened and lawyers and doctors paddled out, the women followed (“Women in Waves”—ooh, like that’s different, but that’s considered politically correct in Santa Cruz, but “Men in Waves” is sexist, I guess.), and then, their kids, and the beach chairs, etc. And surprise, then they’re the ones who start setting up rules and regulations. Of course, the rules that justify them.Now the peop[le who were there first are in the way, but they can’t raise our rent or fire us from the water, so they attempt to bring their rules in the water.
Another time, two guys I know are standing at the stairway by The Hook. A woman comes by on a waveform foan board and says, “WHat’s the best way to get down to the spot?”
A guy says, “Actually, it’s a higher tide, I wouldn’t recommend going down those stairs.”
She brushes him off and snaps, “I can handle myself. I kow what I’m doing.”
And if she did, why did she have to ask how to get down to the surf spot.
They didn’t want to admit what they don’t know, and could care less.
Well, so does the ocean–and every other person in the world, the only ones who agree with them are between every other person who the other person doesn’t want to deal with.
I might get less waves. I might not like the people. But there still are some good ones. And cancer almost took surfing and this life away from me. IU still leave with a smile and a laugh. And say, “I’m not complaining, I’m narrating.” The stokeless can’t find a way inside me. They don’t know what stoke is. I’ve avoided these people in my private life, dealt and lost to many of them in professional fields, but I never became one of them–they’re stuck with themselves and hanging out with others. They will never be cool. They will have all the toys and will never be cool.
So I’m still paddling out and their rules don;t apply to me–ever.
Like the ocean, there are some things that are eternal. But sometimes, I guess, even eternity can be overrated.


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