Fatty Don't Surf: Part 2

If you were here yesterday, you know where we're starting. If not, I guess I can do a "Previously on..." like they do on TV. "Daughter" and I signed up for a surfing lesson last week in Maui. I was wedged into a very small shirt, we went to the beach, got our boards and received some instruction. Now it's time to head to the water. Cue the theme music, here we go.

Gene (our instructor) lead us to the water and told us to hop on our boards. Sounds easy. All you have to do is jump up and let your belly land on the board. "Daughter" and the other couple in the group hopped right on and started paddling out to sea. I jumped, landed square on the board, and promptly tipped over, swallowing what I thought was a quart of salty ocean water. I repeated this humiliating ritual about 17 times, each time getting more an more frustrated. I was focusing on myself, when I realized the rest of the group was gone, "Daughter" included, and Gene was still trying to get my wet suit draped behind on the board. "I'll walk it out." I said. Thankfully our rally point wasn't very deep. So I was able to drag my board to the buoy. Thank god I had my sandals on. The floor of this stretch of beach was made up of rocks so jagged I thought the entire state of Hawaii had thrown their broken pop bottles there. I spent the next two hours trying to keep my board pointed at the waves, and helping "Daughter", who was holding onto the buoy do the same. My shoulders still aren't right.

I watched as the first two people made their initial runs. They got part way up and fell. "Daughter" fared about the same. She was a trooper though. Throughout the lesson she kept trying and eventually stood up for a few seconds. I don't mean to minimize the few seconds, since it was roughly 100 percent longer than I stood up. After about twenty more tries, I mastered getting on the board. I had no trouble getting on, it was staying on that was the problem. Gene finally realized that I was throwing my legs over too far, and suddenly I was on the board like a slab of tuna on a rice cake. You would think that once I finally mastered the art of mounting the surf board, the rest would be a piece of cake. Haven't you been paying attention? As hard as I thought the process was on sand, it was monumentally tougher in the water. Not only did I have to balance, my body doesn't move with the fluidity that surfing requires. I finally was able to ride the surf board all the way to the beach on my stomach without falling off. Success. I didn't bother to question the "surf academy's" guarantee, since I had suffered enough humiliation already.

You may think that this has soured me on my white foam dreams. You may be right. I do know that before I try this again, I need to shed about a third of my mass and work with Ralph Macchio and Pat Morita on my balance. So if you see a giant man standing on a tree stump practicing "the Crane", you'll know it's me. I will live the life of a tanned surfer boy, with my board shorts and fish tacos. It just might take the rest of my life to do it. No worries. Later....Brian