"Let them SURF!"

I am currently in New York City on the brink of an intense ballet summer and it is very hot. A heat dome has descended driving temperatures up near 100 and the natives mad. Reports of men running wild with knives, warnings of rolling brownouts, general hysteria.

None of them, apparently, have visited Djibouti where the aforementioned are all daily occurrences, year ’round, except the temperatures are up past 120 also year ’round.

Well, relief is in sight for east coast surfers who can hardly wait as the “ritualistic opening of the Atlantic Ocean” occurs tomorrow all thanks to cosplay mermaids and mermen.

Per The New York Times:

It is time for an extravaganza on Coney Island that is hip, tacky and wacky. Hundreds of mermaids — sequined and finned — will splish-splash their way down Surf Avenue in the annual Mermaid Parade on Saturday.

“The Mermaid Parade is as New York as it gets,” said Adam Rinn, the artistic director of Coney Island U.S.A., the nonprofit organization that runs the parade.

Daniel Murphy, the executive director of the Alliance for Coney Island, which represents neighborhood businesses and will have a float in the parade, said the spectacle is “the most conveniently located parade for a hot June day.” It will end with the ritualistic “opening” of the Atlantic Ocean by the king and queen of the parade.

I asked: If you had to describe the Mermaid Parade to a Martian who had just landed and had no idea what it was all about, what would you say?

This was his answer: “Do you remember ‘Abbott and Costello Go to Mars’?” I didn’t, so he provided the briefest of synopses: “Abbott and Costello end up at a Mardi Gras parade. The Mermaid Parade is exactly that.”

East Coast surfers care much less about the hip, tacky and wacky than they do about actually getting to surf legally. The Rockaways are currently running 2 – 3 ft, according to Surfline, and I’d imagine the sands are filled with the waxed n’ ready just waiting for the King and Queen of the Mermaid Parade to wave their tridents over the waters and declare them open.

Huzzah!

The Package has arrived.

Sid Abbruzzi is surfing’s patron saint. The spot has been held, for the last thirty years or such, by Saint Christopher, who has long been venerated by “athletes, mariners, ferrymen, and travelers.” The amalgamation, I guess, extending to surfers but sharing a saint is not the same as having a saint and ours is now Sid.

The Water Brother should need no introduction. The fact that he might, simply testimony to his holiness. But we will get in to that later. For now, you should examine your heart. If you do not know of Sid Abbruzzi, you should deeply question your own attachment to this surfing life. If you do know of Sid Abbruzzi, well, I don’t have much to add here except for the time I met him at Surf Expo in Florida.

It was the year that the former surf personality Ashton Goggans decided the look du jour was tightly rolled yellow beanie and delicately oiled beard, in Florida, but never mind that. Sid had stopped by the Florida Surf Film Festival booth with a crew of Rhode Island heavies, all tattooed and tough. I immediately recognized him as something entirely unique. He said, “Hey, come back to our hotel room with us.”

Intimidated, but with no other option, I accepted.

Now, I had no idea what this hotel room would hold but showing weakness in the face of true ideological belief is tantamount to complete human failure. Sid had an aura. A look. A piercing seriousness and commitment that is altogether rare in our western world. I’d seen it in the eyes of Hezbollah commanders and Yemeni freedom fighters.

I saw it here.

Turns out, I was right but in ways I’d never expected.

I’ll get to that later too. For now, though, a film has been made about Saint Sid’s life. It’s not out yet but I’ve seen it. Twice. So enraptured by the first go through that I replayed, from the beginning, for the wife, immediately after.

She wept too.

The official trailer dropped seconds ago. The film, itself, out mid July.

Gird your loins.

The death of fierce independence.

Almost one year ago, to the day, surf fans were shocked after surf adjacent website The Inertia was sold to publishing giant AllGear Digitals for a deal worth reported millions.

“Building The Inertia has been one of the most rewarding journeys I can imagine,” founder Zach Weisberg, a Virginia Beach surfer who was inspired to launch what would become the template for the vulnerable adult learner tsunami, said at the time. “Since day one, we’ve committed to forging great relationships, sharing valuable stories from unique perspectives in a culture we love, and challenging ourselves to embrace new opportunities.”

The aforementioned surf fans, though, worried if “corporate culture” would invade the fierce independence for which The Inertia was known.

It now appears those fears were justified.

Days ago, the “definitive voice of the outdoors” posted the think piece “Surf Fan Who Wanted Important Contest Held at Big Barreling Left Angry It’s Being Held at Big Barreling Left” wherein “die hard surf fan” Nick Ramos was quoted reacting to the World Surf League moving Finals Day from Lower Trestles to Cloudbreak.

“If I didn’t find a way to be unhappy with the current circumstance then I’d have to sit and enjoy them,” he said. “Sure, they met my personal demands. And I do feel entitled to having my exact view of what’s best for professional surfing validated. But what these corporate kooks don’t get is that a surf fan’s job — the job of a true core surfer — is to live in a state of discontent no matter what.”

While The Inertia’s involuntarily celibate readership enjoyed the scathing wit to which they’d become accustomed, they were left gasping for air at the end when arriving at a disclaimer.

Editor’s Note: If you didn’t figure out this was satire within the first few sentences, shoot us a note and we’ll immediately reply with a response making fun of you.

While also flashing a devil-may-care ethos, it does present a very slippery slope and might hint at AllGear’s meddling. Of course, The Inertia is scandal prone but that’s what makes it so savage.

Dark days, in any case, for a free press.