Loc:
Manhattan Beach
Crew: Bri,
Klaude, Mel, Nicky
Time:
0700-1000
Conditions:
Sunny, crowded, consistent, clean, 2-3 FT.
There isn’t supposed to be surf in the
South Bay, but when Bri and I pass the beach to park, we see that there are
some clean little peaks rolling in. Miraculously, we catch Klaude and his
roommate Mel changing in the parking lot on the way down to the surf.
While yesterday was overcast and gloomy up
north, today Manhattan Beach has classic all-time summer conditions. The beach
is ridiculously crowded, both with the local Ohana and seasonal summer surfers.
The water’s so inviting that the need to paddle out and be in it far succeeds
the need for a wave.
When we’re out there, we have to let a lot
of waves go. The longboarders are out, but we know most of them: Miles, Bruce,
Orlando. It’s nice to see these familiar faces. Amidst all the different places
that I’ve been surfing lately, my heart is still here at this beach.
Despite the crowd, the surf is consistent
enough to make a buffet out of it. Everyone gets waves. Klaude, with his new
and improved eye sight, goes frontside right (since he’s a regular foot) and
gets a cutback carve, throwing some water out the back, a slashing maneuver. He
looks good.
On my Motorboat Too, I milk some long
lefts, not getting the most gouging turns, but some little checks going down
the line, much more than I had expected.
The wind grows a little more onshore into
the late morning, but the conditions are still surfable. To the south, a
helicopter’s blades chop the air. There are sirens. The fire department is on
the strand. Lifeguard trucks race towards the pier. Two fishing boats linger on
the north side of the pier. People start chiming in in the water. Everyone’s an
expert, and the word “shark” gets tossed around like volleyball. But none of us
know what happened for sure.
Leaving the surf, a lifeguard truck
transports a man who’s lying down on a spinal board. The situation looks urgent
but not life threatening. People crowd the stairs leading up from the beach. I
hear more mumbles. “Neck injury” is what’s conjuring from the crowd now.
It’s not until I get various texts within the
next half hour that I hear about the shark attack. Klaude later tells me that
the lifeguards cleared the beach right after Bri and I left. Manny A. had told
me that it’s only a matter of time before there’s an attack. Well, it finally
happened.
#
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| Guests of honor: Cheryl the birthday girl, Fransauce, and Alex. |
 |
| Khang and Melly Mel, going over the intricacies of having long hair |
Last night, Bri and I celebrated the fourth
of July with my best friend and his wife and a bunch of other friends. Today,
we have a birthday lunch for Cheryl in Venice. A few hours later, Francis and
his homie Alex fly in. I haven’t seen Francis in two years. From there, the
holiday weekend lives up to its true value. We have another party at Klaude’s.
He’s faded, but man is he just cranking out homemade pizzas, one after the
other, until we are full. I’m still not fully recovered from my lack of sleep,
but I can’t help but go with the flow.
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| When small get togethers outgrow their expectations. Thanks for hosting, KK. |
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| KK, the pizza master. |
By 2330 we’re in Klaude’s backyard,
everyone’s a familiar face, legit friends who I cannot be awkward with if I
tried. What I mean to say is that I’m so fortunate to have all of these people
in my life. It’s the perfect get together, not with random people who stand
with their own clicks, disassociated.
Silverton, Cheryl’s husband, throws up.
That’s when I know that the party has really reached full crunked status. Bri
throws up. She can’t talk straight. We leave.
Bri throws up on the curb before we leave
Klaude’s. She throws up when we go home. She wakes up in the middle of the
night, vomiting beside our bed. I try to get her up, but nothing else exists in
her world but the muscular functions of upchucking. I put a plastic bag by her
mouth and go back to sleep.
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