"Those who have watched him surf say that he has an unusual number of instructors and guides who surround him in the water."
The love of money is the root of all evil or so the Christians say.
Do you think?
I would do so many good things if I had money. I’d be the towel-boy for Malia Manuel, I’d buy a Kelly Slater pool and lock it up so no one could ride it, I’d pay Jamie O’Brien to duct-tape me to his back so I can see what a Pipeline tube looks like, I’d hire Erik Logan and pay him ten million dollars a year to make snuff films, I’d breed White Pointer sharks in captivity and start a fast-food chain called Surfer’s Revenge, I’d cuckold Joe Turpel and make him commentate live from the wardrobe and I’d buy the North Shore and start a surf school for uppity VALs, utopian Byron Bay Murfers and Surf Witches.
The world’s richest surfer Adam Nuemann, an Israeli-American who was raised on the collective farming miracle called kibbutz, and who made his billions via an office-sharing company called WeWork, allocates his cash better than most.
His company owns, or owned, a thirteen-million dollar hunk of Wavegarden as well as a piece of Laird’s Superfoods, which promises ordinary people terrific benefits if you swallow the various potions, including performance mushrooms and Peruvian coffees.
And, on a recent holiday to the Maldives, Neumann used his wealth to avoid having to paddle into the lineup.
Gather around, let’s read from the book of Fast Company.
One glorious day in April, Neumann was floating on a surfboard in the middle of the Indian Ocean. It was the week of his 40th birthday, and he’d come to the Maldives to enjoy it with his family and closest friends. It was a lavish trip. As part of his celebration, he hosted his guests at a resort on an atoll that has exclusive access to a world-famous surf break called Pasta Point.
Neumann has often talked about the role that surfing plays in his life, and he’s claimed to have ridden waves as high as 18 feet, perhaps higher. Those who have watched him surf say that he has an unusual number of instructors and guides who surround him in the water. He often doesn’t paddle into the surf himself. Instead, he hires jet-ski professionals to tow him out. Some large offshore surf breaks require this, but for smaller ones, getting towed out is seen by surfers as bizarre and unnecessary. It’s the equivalent of, say, helicopter skiing on a bunny hill.
The wonderful things you can do with money?