Not a good end.
I sat there brooding in my living room in front of the television. A surf movie was on but I was hardly paying it any attention. I do this when I’m upset. I watch surf movies. It’s also what I do when I’m happy. It’s pretty much all I do besides surf. Occasionally I’ll read too, but surf magazines are always a quick read when you just look at the pictures.
My deep despair was interrupted by the front door creaking open–strange, because nobody ever visits me. Most people can’t stand the surf eternity that I’m surrounded by. Except for Will. Will is the single soul who can go toe-to-toe with me when it comes to surf obsession. And that’s why we’re best friends. Fact is, we really don’t have that much in common besides surfing, but then again all we do is surf, so I guess it could also be said that we have a lot in common. Thus, we also normally have an extreme enthusiasm to everything we do.
But that’s why my curiosity was aroused now. Will is normally bursting down the front door with said enthusiasm and stoke, so much so that I’ve considered removing it all together. I peered around the corner so as to see who was loitering at the steps.
“Whose there?” I croaked out, my throat still sore from my episode of yelling earlier today.
After a long delay a voice choked out, “…me.”
Even in its most inarticulate state, I can always distinguish Will’s voice. “Well, hell dude, what’s wrong with you?”
It wasn’t just his voice. He looked terrible. I understand that might sound like a basic description of a surfer for some people, but it was different this time. His hair, normally matted down by residual salt, was stuck out in bunches everywhere. His outfits, while never dressed to the nines, was at least usually above the sweatpants and sweatshirt combo he was sporting. Most telling, though, was his eyes. Regularly, Will had red eyes from the salt and sun, but today they sagged with a great weight as if he had just finished crying himself out of tears. And the bucket of ice cream he was carrying removed any remaining doubt as to his state of emotions.
He sat down beside me without taking his eyes off his tub of Mint Chocolate Chip. It was only after extensive prodding that I managed to pry something from his green stained lips.
“Parker, I just had the worst experience of my life,” he muttered.
“Don’t tell me you broke your new board?!” I could feel my stomach clench at the thought. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with that serious a predicament.
“No bro,” he answered. “It was worse than that.”
I sat there for a while, stumped. I tried to think of a scenario that could be deemed more damaging than that. My intrigue surpassed my ego though, so I relented and asked for the answer.
Will sighed deeply before speaking, as if what he was about to say demanded a great courage on his behalf, “do you remember those two girls we met the other day? The ones we said we would take surfing?”
I flinched at their mention. It appeared we shared the same pain too. However, having already come to terms with my own disastrous outcome, I was all too ready to leave it in the past. “You know, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
A quizzical look flashed over Will’s face, and he called my bluff. “Yours didn’t fare too well either?” he asked, almost hopefully. I suppose every good captain wants a shipmate or two to go down with him.
“Dude, I had the worst surf date possible,” I said. “Whatever you’re miserable over, I assure you, I can top it.”
But the look of interest faded from Will’s eyes to be replaced once again by pure depression. “No Parker,” he replied, “you can’t.”
The nerve. I could feel my sorrow growing into anger at the thought of his sadness outdoing mine. Despite my hesitation of reliving my ordeal, I knew that once I even briefly outlined my horrid date, he would instantaneously retract his statement. I went through hell and back during my date and there’s no going deeper than that.
“Watch me,” I challenged. “It all started well, which only makes it worse later on, I guess. The sour is never as sour without the sweet–or something like that–anyway, she looked sweet. Cute, blonde, and a bubbly personality. She was just like a kid on Christmas at the thought of going surfing. From when I picked her up to when we arrived at the beach, she couldn’t stop gushing over how nice a guy I was, how she’s dreamed of doing this forever. And you know how much I like getting complimented, so I was just beaming and blushing while never once asking her to stop.”
Will was staring off into space. I was certain he was already feeling stupid for provoking me, but at this point, I wasn’t going to pull back.
“Even when we first got to the beach, things were going swell. Fun little waves were playing out front of us and the sun was shining enough that I could talk to her with my wetsuit top down and pretend like I was just overheating. But then we got into demonstrating the technique. That was my first indication that things might not go perfectly. My gosh, for such a smoking body she wasn’t the slightest form of athletic. She was so uncoordinated, I’m surprised she could tie her shoes. I decided to bank on beginner’s luck working for her and cut the dryland short. Not short enough, though. Just as we were about to walk down to the water, who should show up, but the bronze god of surfing, Laird Hamilton.”
Even Will, in his vegetative state, had to snort at the mention of Laird.
“Of course, today was the day the pro decided to surf at the beginner beach,” I continued. “And here he was walking down to the beach in board shorts! In February, the man who has more sponsors than NASCAR, can’t find a single piece of clothing to wear? Good grief. I tried to distract her by pointing at some seagulls, but in some ominously prophetic moment, they flew towards Laird and alas, so too did her gaze.”
Will opened his mouth expecting the story to end there, but I shook my finger to ward him off. The story could have ended there easily enough. While speaking has never been a strong suit for Laird, his olive skin and blonde hair, both accentuated by the sun–and aided by his refusal to surf in anything but board shorts–has never left him short of his share of suitors. I wish the story had ended there, but fate had more humiliation in store for me.
“Well, eventually I pried her eyes off the megastar by “accidentally” squirting some sunscreen in her eyes. Even then I had to drag her by the leash to the water. It wasn’t until the cool Pacific licked her toes that she returned to her senses. And what does she do then? Well, she decides to inform me that she can’t swim. Not even doggy paddle. This, coming from the girl who has dreamed of surfing her whole life.”
I hesitated, expecting Will’s pupils to dilate upon enlightenment of this piece of information, but still his eyes retained their ghostly stare.
“But my eyes were on the prize,” I continued, “so I lied and said ‘most surfers can’t, and that it’s just a good incentive to avoid falling.’ She was only half sold, though, and wanted to stay in waist deep water. I pushed her into a few tiny ripples, and despite her lack of success, she seemed to be enjoying herself. Her smile was enough encouragement for me. However, even a beautiful smile like that has its limits on a guy. After an hour of push, fall, rinse and repeat, I suggested she might want to head in to the beach for a rest and try to learn by watching me surf a while. She didn’t like that idea too much. As I was trying to backtrack out of an argument, the shirtless superhero Laird comes over sensing some damsel in distress. The jerk. And what does he do? Nothing, nothing but regurgitate his main sponsor’s slogan to her. ‘Just do it’ he says. And what does she do? She stands up, of course.”
Will seemed to be in his own world, but a small grunt assured me he was still listening. I took a sip of water to clear my throat. I was just getting into it.
“Next thing I know, my girl, the one I got the gear for, drove out and taught on the beach, is thanking Hercules over there for his sage wisdom and advice. I wasn’t about to give up that easily though. No, I booked it straight out the back and began surfing my brains out. It did good to vanquish my frustration, but I also noticed that for a moment she took her eyes off his bleached hair and watched real surfing done by me. It was just the break I needed to swoop in and retrieve my girl from his grasp. Defeated by a lesser mortal, Laird took off for his own waves.”
“Sounds like a terrible date, dude,” Will blurted out, tears beginning to well in his eyes again.
“All seemed right again,” I agreed, as the first smile in a long time showed on my face, no matter its sinister intentions, “until, that is, I pushed her into the next wave. Problem was, now that he wasn’t saying his three magic words, she couldn’t stand up again. For the life of me, I tried every slogan I’d heard, from ‘impossible is nothing’ to ‘protect this house.’ It was no use. Somewhere between L’Oreal’s ‘because I’m worth it’ and KFC’s ‘finger licking’ good’, she lost interest and started to dangerously roam her eyes again. Lo and behold, she alighted upon Laird shredding through any chance I had left of getting with her. She just lay there on her board, completely unaware to my existence as her eyes followed Laird up, down and around. I’m not sure what I was thinking at the time, but I was consumed with rage as I cursed my way out the back again for some serious venting. As soon as I drop in for some wave rehab, I see that bloke Laird coming straight on top of me. I couldn’t believe that the guy was selfish enough to take my girl and my wave. I straightened out watching him tear the wave apart like I could only dream of doing. But my nightmare wasn’t over. As I continued to stare jealously at Laird, I was too late in reacting to the scream. I did, however, look just in time to see my mistake. I watched as the nose of my board plowed right into my date before she disappeared under my craft on its way to hell and back. I clearly was never destined to see her smile again. Even by the time she popped up to the surface, her right eye had begun to swell and bruise. I stood there stunned, wondering what on Earth I had done to deserve such terrible luck. Another blood curdling scream of hers brought me back to reality, though, and just as the apology was rolling off my tongue I felt something hard crack the back of my head. As lonely as the dark was underwater, it paled in comparison to the grim situation my surf date had become. I took a gulp of air only to immediately lose my breath as I gasped at the scene. Laird had driven his board right through me as he swooped in to the rescue. I could do nothing but cry as I watched him carry her ashore in his arms, as she wrapped hers tightly around his neck and raining compliments upon him that once belonged to me.”
Will still sat there unmoved. I didn’t understand how he hadn’t waved the white flag yet. I gave it my last shot.
“So basically, the final image I had of my date was her sitting atop his enormous shoulders as he sauntered her off the beach, his rock hard abs attracting her full attention despite not being quite as firm as his nipples because the idiot still refused to put on a stupid shirt.”
Nothing. No reaction. No apology or consolation. Will just sat there as tears pooled into his now empty tub of ice cream.
“Look bro, I don’t know how your date could be anywhere worse than mine was today unless you have some shark attack mixed in somewhere. I swear I didn’t exaggerate anything. Not even Laird’s nipples. It was so bad that I’m through with surf dates. Done, finished, a thing of the past.”
Will’s tears began to pour a little more consistently now. I didn’t get it, and my confusion was only making me angrier.
Just then Will burst into uncontrollable sobs. He was hysterical; mouth agape, slapping his open palms on his knees like some hungry gorilla screaming for food.
And that’s when I put it together. I realized what really could have been worse than my surf date from hell and back. The true nightmare date for the surf obsessed surfer.
“I’m so sorry man,” I quickly apologized for my ignorance. “Here, let’s put on another surf movie now.” But my attempt to change the subject was for naught.
Through his deafening sobs I could just make out the muffled answer… “she was better than me.”
