It was an unusually hot day even by the coast. I had sought to cool myself with a glass of expensive but colorful tourist drink and was in the middle of taking a refreshing gulp when a man carrying an oversized surfboard nudged me. It was so forceful it threw me off my seat causing me to spill the colorful concoction on my white shirt. One moment I was a tourist wannabe and the next I was wearing the tie-dyed colors of a rabid Grateful Dead fan.
“Hey Bud, what’s your problem? Careful with the board!, That was completely bogus”, he said indignantly while inspecting his board. “This schlong cost me some pretty righteous bucks and it had better make it to the Banzai Pipeline before it gets a gnarly gash on it”.
Rich is one of those freaks of nature that happens unexpectedly and with such force. The last time I saw him, he was a Mafia Don with a thick Italian accent serving me with a slice of pizza. This time he is a Southern California Surfer Dude in the mold of Jeff Spicolli from the movie Fast Times at Ridgemont High. He came out of the ocean wearing dark shades with a strap and wholly the recipient of one of two distinct possibilities. He either started a buzz way too early in the morning or too many waves crashed on his skull. Either way, he didn’t recognize me.
“Rich, it’s me”. I said. “Duuuuude it’s you. Right on! Sorry ‘bout going agg on you dude. I’m still amped because I took off on this killer wave that went Niagara Falls. It dropped me in a real bitchin’ Maytag that just owned me. I ended up with a hillbelly, a sand facial and a Neptune cocktail all at the same time. It was totally gnarly! That was about an hour ago and I still can’t feel my face”. He took off his shades. I didn’t say anything but I noticed that his eyes were very badly crossed, which explained why he didn’t recognize me.
“What’s with the surfer pose, man?”, I asked. He smiled at me and said. “I am in search of the ultimate wave – a Betty, an Emma, a Babelini by the name of Nina. I want to get close to her and whisper softly in her ears – hey baby, let’s party. And I want to take her to the most exotic surf spots on earth so we can go tandem on a longboard together. Before I can do that, I have got to be able to hang with Laird Hamilton on a big wave. And to be honest with you, I don’t know how much more of this I can take. See the Achilles of my left foot? One time, I ate it on this ginormous wave and somehow my foot got attached to the back of my head. When the white water cleared, I was like some messed up Yogi in a pretzel sitting on the beach unable to stand up”.
“Do you know the difference between a big wave rider and just a regular surfer”, he asked me. “No, I don’t”, I replied. “The difference is passion, he said. "There is nothing that I will not do to finally end up with my Nina".
I looked behind us and saw a long line on the sand left by the huge surfboard that Rich was dragging behind him. I can tell he had a rough day on the waves. The line was wavy, almost certainly done by a man who was walking drunk. I’m not sure if he was drunk because of the pounding that he got from the waves or that he was drunk from the infatuation he had for Nina. But, the situation I was facing was getting more and more troubling because judging from the direction we were heading we’ll certainly be sitting in a local surfer’s watering hole just up the beach. In his condition, if Rich got any more drunk, he’ll end up more than a messed up Yogi. I'll be looking at some Rajneesh wearing his surfboard around his neck.
