(Or how I learned to stop worrying and love worldwide pandemics.)
Let’s all just admit, once and for all, that surfers are almost entirely worthless. We, each and every one of us, are carbon spewing, grouchily territorial, poisonously caustic, generally white, male and well-enough fed.
Starting boutique beer labels in our ample spare time etc.
Slightly re-tooling tail pads etc. (buy here)
Contributing the very last things this overheating world needs and staying almost entirely worthless while so doing.
The almost relates to how we travel and in that one regard we approach genius or at least “interestingly touched” levels of autism.
Mark a wave anywhere, in any country, going through any crisis and surfers will travel there. Will travel through wars and civil wars, corruption and vice, hell and high water to surf it.
Which brings us directly to our current, developing Coronavirus Zombie Apocalypse and whoa.
Are you watching? Keeping up? Can you believe?
SXSW cancelled. All college classes at Stanford University cancelled. Toilet paper sold out everywhere. People in completely unaffected regions self-quarantining. China shuttered. Cruise ships circling the oceans with no port willing to take them, states of emergency declared all over these United States.
But better, Europe in sheer panic, airline prices falling, the Champs-Élysées deserted, croissants rotting in the streets, shattered Hermes storefront windows gaping, begging for ginger little fingers to pluck camisoles then stroll down that deserted Champs-Élysées itself while whistling Champs-Élysées.
No crowds in front of the Mona Lisa at The Louvre.
No reservations needed at Girafe.
No busloads of Chinese tourists.
I’m looking at my angelic seven-year-old daughter, literally right now, across the table blonde head tilted down, watching From Russia with Love, her second favorite Bond film after Goldfinger, on her phone.
“Baby girl…” I holler “…wanna to go shred the Coronavirus Zombie Apocalypse?”
She looks up, says, “Yes…” before looking back down.
We’re flying to Paris tomorrow morning.
More as the story develops.