“There’s no way he isn’t watching for me,” I thought. But he wasn’t.” Photo: Marcus Paladino
“It’s going to be a good year,” I thought. Start if off with a solid surf like this? Yes, it’s going to be a good year. I’ve got a big future, and this is the year I start to succeed. All my hard work will have finally culminated into 2015. This is the year I become somebody. My breakout year.
Seriously, I’d done seven cutbacks, four frontside snaps, five backside snaps, two roundhouse carves and nine floaters. That meant I only needed three more cutbacks, a frontside snap, and a floater to hit my quota for the session. That’s right, I have a quota now. I’m structured; regimented. Years later, I’ll be conducting a powerpoint speech in front of five hundred people describing my recipe for greatness. And it all started with this session. Just need three more cutbacks, a snap, and a floater to be on track to becoming a success.
I spun for a wave, glowing with confidence, certain I was going to flare out for everyone watching. And if they weren’t watching? Well, they were missing out on the next big thing. Just as I got to my feet I noticed a dark shadow out of the corner of my eye. Some bozo was about to drop in on me! I didn’t bother calling him off or alerting him to my claim.“There’s no way he isn’t watching for me,” I thought. But he wasn’t. He never even looked back once. Not even after he ran right into me and sent me down for my first wipeout of the session.
I emerged from the water crying and screaming with outrage. I created a whirlpool as I frantically searched for my assailant. The coward was surely running to his car already.
“THIS WAS NOT PART OF THE PLAN!” I hollered to everybody and nobody in particular.
But no one came to see if I was alright. They just continued on with their average lives while a public attack on their nation’s next big hope occurred right under their noses. But then I calmed myself. If a tree falls with no one to hear it crash, then it never made a sound. I hadn’t failed. I was still a success. 2015 was still a good year.
As I watched the next wave stretch out towards me, my smile extended just as far from one ear to the other. This was going to be a good one. I could see the water welling up and ready to unload, and I was in just the right position. Well, isn’t the ocean lucky I’m the one who should honor this wave? But, as I was pulling my feet underneath me, I felt my stomach clench into a knot. Another shadowy figure was looming in my path. As I was pummeled by a familiar shoulder, I struggled to remember if this was Groundhog Day or New Year’s Day.
Amidst the rolling turmoil underwater, I gave in to the chaos. I knew I was breaking one of my resolutions already, to avoid raging outbreaks, but it felt too good. I grabbed the body that accompanied me in our synchronized bail and clawed at his unfortunate face.
“Hahaha dude, don’t pet my nose, I’m ticklish there!” the ruffian laughed. I’d forgotten my claws were sheathed in 5mm gloves and in reality, I’d just been aggressively picking his nose. I pulled away in disgust.
“Listen Kramer, watch who you burst in on out here, okay!” I quickly stammered, trying to regain my status.
“Kramer? No man, my name’s Eric,” Eric corrected, “but you can call me Andre if you’d like. It’s my last name, but since it’s also a first name, it sounds cool too you know? Actually, I guess Kramer is a first name too, so you can call me that if you’re already used to it.”
I could scarcely listen to this nonsense through the steam blowing out my ears. “Listen Eric Andre, how about you just make it a New Year’s resolution to stop dropping in on me, okay?”
The reply came out of Eric’s mouth slowly, I’m certain due to the delay of his brain function. “But… I don’t get it. What’s the problem?” he asked, clearly stumped.
The nerve of this guy. “The problem Eric, is you dropping in on me twice!” I fumed. He had me shaking. I had also resolved to stop shaking. Look what this idiot was making me succumb to.
“Well you should make that your resolution then,” he assured me. “You gotta see bro. How can I make a resolution if I don’t have a problem? I love party waves!” And with that, he began paddling back out, whistling the tune to Hawaii Five-O.
I hated him. I wish I could’ve let him go on his separate way, and then imagined him being devoured by a gigantic squid in my focus group for higher mental acuity later tonight, but everything about this guy rubbed me the wrong way. I refused to let this guy go thinking I was the problem. How dare he?
I chased the wake left by his trailing dreadlocks and eventually caught up to huff out, “you’re seriously going to tell me you don’t have a single problem that needs fixing?”
He took a second, as if trying to remember who I was. “Ah you eh! Yup, I’m sweet bro. Cheers though,” he pleasantly offered. It made me sick.
I attempted to calm my breath, but began to choke on the words clogging my throat. I ended up blurting everything out at once. “How can that be? How can you refuse to see any need for resolutions whatsoever? Not for fitness, not for a diverse vocabulary–do you even read?–not for meeting girls, not for obtaining a wetsuit without holes–do you even have a job to pay for that?–not even for a better haircut? Nothing at all occurs to you to resolve to reach for a higher standard of yourself?” I was exasperated. I’m not sure I had the energy to withstand whatever gibberish this baboon was about to babble out.
He didn’t seem to be in attendance. “What’s your problem, bro?” he asked, his gaze still affixed to a seagull floating overhead.
“Oh come on. How clear do I have to make it that you’re my prob-“
“Nah brah,” he interrupted, “I mean, what’s your problems that you’re solving?”
Ugh, I knew I shouldn’t have gotten involved in this. That said, despite Eric Andre not being my target audience, I didn’t mind any platform to boast of my destiny. “Well, since you’re pushing… I’m on my way to being a star. I’m not there yet, but I’m clearly looking at the light at the end of the barrel,” I paused to laugh at the clever pun. Right on the spot, too. That display of genius excited me to amp up my bragging. “I’m resolving to read and write a lot more to prepare for the upcoming book deals. I’ve resolved to start researching some real estate, as well, so that I know the market for my first mansion. And I’m also currently practicing surfing in various wetsuit brands so I can make an educated decision as to what company I’d like to be sponsored by when they start offering, which should be any day now.” I was just about to look up from listing my goals on my fingers when I recalled another one. “Oh, and my mom is making me resolve to get good marks again for the last half of tenth grade. Those are just the first few, anyway.”
Eric Andre looked stunned. I’d got him at long last. I had won. Yes sir, 2015 was going to be a winning year for Timothy Strait. I took this opportunity to gloat as I asked, “so you seriously don’t have anything that you can think of to resolve to do better at? Not even some resolution for improved surfing?”
Eric Andre’s look of shock finally wore off into a grin. But his answer wasn’t what I was expecting. “Dude, just relax. You’ve got resolutions for problems you don’t have. Don’t worry, be happy bro, all your troubles will be fine.”
I resolved to give it one last shot. “Come on,” I asked. “You don’t even want a better cutback?”
Eric Andre was the one who was bristling himself with confidence now. “Bro, you gotta look at things with more positivity. Stop thinking so negatively. It’ll just bring you down, man. The man was the one who invented cutbacks, the man wants to bring you down. So you gotta change you’re mind, man. Stop thinking of them as cutbacks and start looking at them with positive eyes, bro. Cutforward is what you gotta call it. That’s better than a cutback.”
I knew I was crazy for fighting his crazy, but fight fire with fire, I reasoned. “So what, then? Are snaps, carves and gouges all bad as well then?” I asked sarcastically.
Eric Andre didn’t pick up on it. “Bro, why all the hate? You gotta just love the wave man, be happy with the wave. Would you snap at something you’re happy with? Would you carve up or gouge something you want to befriend and work together with? Nah brah, you’re going at this all wrong. Call them high fives, belly bumps and fist pumps. That’s how you ride a wave, bro. So you know what? If you’re so stuck on a resolution bro, resolve to be happy. Be surfing, be happy. That’s all you need.”
I paddled in. Eric Andre had ruined my session. I never achieved my quota. I failed my resolutions. 2015 was a write off. I ended up having a good session that afternoon but I still couldn’t help thinking of myself as a disappointment. I couldn’t quite remember why I thought that, but I just remember Eric Andre was to blame. He was my only real problem. Next year, I’ll resolve to avoid him at all costs. Maybe then that will be the year for me.
