Loc: HB
Crew: Solo
Time:
1600-1700
Conditions:
2-3 FT, occasional plus sets, high tide, inconsistent, light onshore, empty.
A week ago Bri said that her friends from
Oregon were coming to town and that she wanted me to meet them. Usually, I’m
not “big” on meeting “the friends,” especially parents. I guess that means I’ve
always been a piece of shit boyfriend. Let’s put it this way. . . . In the past
I’ve met “the friends,” smiled, nodded my head in agreement, acted cordial, but
it was like pulling teeth for me the whole time. When it comes to parents? . .
. “Don’t even get me started, brah” (Lost
Atlas 2011). Anyway, I’ve introduced Bri to a solid handful of my friends,
so being that this is a relationship, it’s only fair for me to meet Sam and
Shawna as well.
#
Their flight arrives at Long Beach airport
at 1415. Bri gets a text from them that they landed, but we’re barely passed
the IKEA, going 405 S. As we’re pulling up to the terminal, I get the anxiety.
Bri is from Oregon. I’m not sure how her friends will take to a dark, surf
monkey like myself, but I do my best to play my part, step out the car, and
greet them when they approach.
I’m not prepared for the Amazonian
onslaught that I’m faced with. Sam is light skinned with dark hair, and Shawna
is a brown-skinned Filipina; they are both tall as hell.
“Hi, I’m Matt. I’ve heard so much about
you,” I say as I extend my hand for each platonic, asexual handshake. So far
they seem nice. I apologize for the surfboard and junk in the back which leaves
them squashed in the middle and passenger seat. They say they are hungry, so I
drive us to Gyu Kaku in HB, where there’s a good happy hour and decent food.
Bri and her friends catch up, while I
systematically chime in between natural pauses in their conversation. I go to
the bathroom to take a piss and take my time so that they have a chance to get
solo girl time without the boyfriend at the table. When I come back, they are
all looking at me with an awkward silence.
“I just told them about our camping trip,”
says Bri.
“Yeah,” I say, “we had the tent shaking in
broad daylight.”
Sam and Shawna laugh.
“Nah, I’m just joking.” I know I’m not
joking.
#
They need a ride up to Glendale, but first
we take them to see the beach, so I drive us to my favorite HB surf spot. When
we arrive, I’m so surprised at how calm the wind is. There’s a strange overcast
of dark clouds in the distance, but the air is still warm. The water is clean
for an early evening sesh, but the tide’s a little high. However, despite the
swampy conditions a set breaks on the outside, a mooshy but lined-up three
feet.
I tell Bri that I’m going for a short
paddle out, as she and her friends set up a beach blanket to sit on. Back at
the car, I change into my shorts and wetsuit jacket. I hope to score some waves
to myself.
When I paddle out, I’m nervous. Bri’s never
watched me surf from the sand before, and I want to put on a good show. The
coolness of the water isn’t so bad, but halfway to the break, my stomach cramps
a little from the food and beer. I turn around and wave. Bri waves back.
#
I know the surf was good earlier before the
tide came up. I can tell from the way that it’s breaking. Sure, it’s swampy,
but occasional sets are still breaking through. Only if there was a foot less
of tide, this would be a turn fest.
My first left feels good. It’s one of those
last-second pitchy waves that give a fast drop. I pump down the line and see
the section about to close out. I bottom turn and force a front-side snap, but
I go too high, and I don’t have enough rail in the face, so I stall and fall on
the lip as it comes down. The rest of the waves are similar. I try to set up
carves with bottom turns, but the waves are closing out by the time I climb the
face.
I’m burning up. I paddle in and hand my
wetsuit top to Bri. I feel awkward because my bare, man-breasts are exposed for
her friends to see, so I get back in the water as fast as I can. The lulls get
longer. The outside sets that I saw earlier aren’t breaking because the tide
has come up even higher. I catch a closeout in and head back to the girl party.
Again, I feel weird standing there, dripping wet in my shorts with stiff
nipples. I make sure to use my board to shield my penis’ showing through my
shorts. As I’m walking away, Bri stops me and says, “But how was it though? Did
you have fun? I saw you wipeout a couple times.”
“Ummm, yeah. It was all right.” I face
them, giving only a second of a frontal glimpse. “The shape was kind of messed
up, but I’m still glad I paddled out.”
#
As we leave the state parking lot, it
starts raining. We have a long, brutal drive to Glendale. Before we get on the
freeway I ask if anyone has to take a shit. They say no. It takes hours on the
55 and the 5. I’m so tired. Bri thanks me over and over for doing this with her.
When we drop Sam and Shawna off, Sam gives me twenty bucks for gas. They have a
mansion party in Hollywood tonight. “Be careful,” I tell them. “Watch out for
horndogs and perverts, and don’t leave your drink unattended. Keep an eye on
it.”
Bri and I drive back home. Too bad the surf
sucked, but it was still worth it. And as far as Sam and Shawna, I definitely
got the hottest one out of “the friends.” I have work this weekend, but next
week I hope to get on some of this south swell.
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