Loc: Rosecrans
Time: 0700-0845
Conditions:
glassy, clean, 1-3 FT, crowded.
I wake up at 0600. Checking my phone, I see
that I missed a text from Rick. It reads: “Do you
want to do Rosecrans w/ me?” And then it hits me. It’s fucking Father’s
Day, a holiday that’s never meant much to me, but at the same time I feel
awfully late for something important. I look at the text again, and I feel
terrible for leaving him hanging.
I shoot him a text back, jump out of bed,
kiss Bri on the forehead, and tell her that I’m off to surf with Rick.
The Porto lot isn’t too packed, and I’m not
surprised since the South Bay isn’t getting much surf. I park at the south end
of the lot, searching for Rick’s van in the process. I don’t see it.
Running out to the water, I scan all the
heads in the lineup, scanning for a bald-headed shredding goofy footer in a
Hurley wetsuit. I walk all the way to the 34th Street Tower. Maybe I
missed him?
I paddle out anyway. The tide is low, and
the conditions are clean. Surfline had called for tiny conditions, but the
Rosecrans area is working well. I catch a clean two footer, expecting it to
moosh out from its softness, but it’s actually rippable. I get one turn before
it closes out.
Paddling through the Rosecrans lineup, the
set waves are even better at three feet, but the crowd here is thicker. No sign
of Rick. He could be all the way by 45th Street, but I didn’t see
his van in the lot, so I decide to just stay where I’m at.
The session is better than expected, and I
pick off some small lefts and rights, even scoring on a big right that allows
me a decent backhand snap.
Back at the car, I check my phone. Rick’s
at Blue Butterfly. I tell him I’ll meet him there.
When I see him, he says that he had started
at Rosecrans, but he paddled over to 42nd Street. Figures. But I’m
not butt hurt that I missed him this morning. It’s Father’s Day, and I’m stoked
to at least meet up with him. I offer to spring for coffee because of the
occasion, but he insists that he buys me not only coffee but breakfast too. We
fight over who’s gonna pay until the cashier gives us an annoying look, so I
give in.
My dad’s a deadbeat. I’ve said it before.
The only thing taught me is to not be like him, so if the time ever comes for
me to be a father, I know I’ll be a good one. Although, I don’t plan on it.
I grew up looking up to my friends’
fathers, but none of them set good examples. When it comes to Rick, he was my squad
leader in the National Guard. He had taught me how to surf after our deployment
together back in 2001. He spoils the hell out of me, even though I try to
refuse. Anyway, so I missed the session with him, but I’m so glad to be here
right now, sharing a bagel sandwich and sipping a cup of coffee with him. I’ve
never had much to celebrate for Father’s Day. Right now I have Rick.
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