"'You can’t actually surf that thing,' said SUP
#1."
I bought a new, red bikini and I feel fine.
In fact, for anyone stranded under the marine layer with flat
surf as far as the eye can see, I recommend a red bikini. It’ll
perk a girl straight up.
The other day I paddled out for a surf. It was very small.
Hardly worthy, in fact, of calling it surf at all. But I saw a
wave-like movement in the ocean and the sun stole out from behind
the fog. My morale lifted! I could go surfing, maybe. So, I pulled
my goofy twinfin out of the stack and headed to the beach.
There I found the usual assortment of summer people: moms with
umbrellas, kids on wavestorms, skimboarders, kids on boogie boards,
kids wearing goggles, kids wearing nothing at all. A few forlorn
types like me, looking to try to stand on surfboards. And of
course, the ever-present SUP-wielders.
Just then, I saw a small bump in the water that might have been
a peak or might have been a whale fart. Either way, I was going to
try to surf it. This is exciting! I might surf this whale fart, I
thought, paddling madly. And then I stood up and and there appeared
— well, I wouldn’t call it a wall, necessarily, more like, a speed
bump or a furrow. Can water have furrows? The ocean, it furrowed
its brow at my presumption. Who is this, who dares to attempt
surfing?
I threw my middle finger at its furrow and slid along until,
disaster! A small child on a Wavestorm, directly in my path, going
straight. It would be bad to run over the small child, I thought,
even as that furrow beckoned me to keep surfing. I did not keep
surfing. I turned to go straight, just like the small child on the
Wavestorm. This decision meant the end of my attempt at surfing.
Disappointed, I paddled back out to wait for another wave-like
formation to appear.
As I was sitting there, staring at the horizon, thinking about
nothing and everything, the way you do when you stare at the
horizon on a day with not much surf at all, I quite suddenly heard
voices above me. It’s must be God, I thought! God is talking to me,
right here in the ocean. This seemed weird. I have not ever been
what you call church-going, so you can imagine my confusion. How
strange to be singled out in this way!
Looking around, I noticed a pair of SUP-wielders drifting in my
direction. They are going to interrupt my conversation with God, I
thought. The nerve! I began to move away, because really, this is
the natural reaction of any normal person at such a sight. Not one
SUP, but two! And coming my way. What else is a girl going to do
but move as quickly as possible in the opposite direction.
As I began to paddle, I realized that the voice I heard was not
actually God! It was one of the SUP-wielding men. This was very
disappointing and I went to move away still more quickly.
Just before I moved out of earshot, I realized I was in the
presence of a SUP on SUP blood feud. Intrigued, I stopped to
listen. What could a pair of SUP-wielding bros have to blood feud
over, I wondered. Surely, everything is peace, love, and unicorns
among the SUP brethren. Surely, there could be no reason for the
kind of infighting that is normal among our beloved, but oh so
grumpy, surfing tribe.
“You can’t actually surf that thing,” said SUP #1. I wasn’t sure
what he meant by this, as I’m not sure anyone can actually surf a
SUP. What could he mean?
I looked more closely at the second SUP-wielder. SUP #2 was
riding an inflatable board. It was large. Very large. I tried to
imagine the dimensions, but my mind proved too feeble. Surely, it
was longer than any board needed to be. And it must have been four
inches thick. Or more! I tried to imagine surfing on it, like the
Goodyear Blimp, if the Goodyear Blimp went in the ocean. This
seemed… not possible.
“Oh no, I have surfed it, no problem!” said SUP #2, his
enthusiasm unimpaired by the incipient blood feud about to envelope
him. If he sounded a little defensive, well, it can’t be easy to
maintain the sangfroid while standing on a blow-up doll.
Determined on a blood feud right there in the lineup, with small
children watching, SUP #1 wasn’t about to let it go.
“Those things are for floating around in the harbor. Or doing
yoga,” said SUP #1. The way he said yoga made it sound like the
very sickest burn, though I bet his wife buys him lululemon for men
all the time.
I’m learning so much here, I thought. Riding a SUP is totally
fine! But riding a blow-up SUP is very bad! You might be tempted to
do yoga on your blow-up SUP, which is also very bad!
I did not know it was possible to have a blood feud in the SUP
world. I felt suddenly so enlightened. The SUP people aren’t that
different from us! They have petty fights over things like what
their boards are made out of and what they look like. Surely, you
can’t surf that, they say.
I felt a sense of vertigo, the way you do, when you suddenly see
something from a totally different direction than how you’ve seen
it before. Like when you hang upside down on the monkey bars at
school. The ground is like, right there and your feet are way up in
the sky and all the boys can see your underwear. The whole world is
so different when you hang upside down.
I was worried that this whole SUP-wielder blood feud was going to
get straight out of hand, never mind that there were children
present. So I paddled farther out toward the horizon, even though
not even the slightest bump seemed likely to appear there. The
voices faded into the distance. I do not know how SUP-wielders
resolve their feuds. Do they throw rocks? Poke one another with
their paddles? I’m not sure I want to know the answers to these
questions.
Soon another tiny bump appeared that bore enough resemblance to
a wave that I began to paddle. And this time, there was no small
child on a Wavestorm, and I slid down the furrow, as long as I
could, until finally, I reached the beach. There was no way I was
going to find another wave in the mostly flat sea, I figured. So I
took off my leash and walked up the beach, past all the beachgoers
with their coolers and their umbrellas. And I wrapped up in my
towel and slid off my suit.
And then I put on my red bikini, and smiled up at the sun, all
thoughts of blood feuds forgotten. Nothing possibly could go wrong
for a girl when she’s wearing a red bikini.