10 September 2009

SURF REPORT


10 September 2009


There were waves on the reef at Queens, especially when the tide dropped, but my back was still a bit too burned to go out. Anyway, I know those reefs at Waikiki, and they are pure treachery on small days. You can see the staphylococcus clinging to the razor coral as you glide by. Later I went to Go Bananas on Kapahulu and got a 30 SPF longsleever as I had promised myself two weeks before I left but never got around to it. Actually I was a in a mental rut, all because I did not want to give any more money to everyone’s favorite surfstore in Ventura. Years ago they ripped me off rather brazenly on some expensive racks once-wrong model and parts. Insisted I had to return them to the manufacturer in Washington, fuck that. But such efforts at revenge are so twisted.

I have a melon-back guarantee on all my products. I need my customers. I went to another outlet in Ventura, but they are a small store and they did not have my size. Then I thought I would buy the shirt on the internet, and I was so full of certainty at the time that I completely dropped the ball. I actually convinced myself while paddling out that I had obtained enough of a tan in California to go out for an hour or two in cloudy Kaaawa with no problem. If the surf had been irresistible I would not have resisted, but waist high Waikiki folding over Staflokoki Reef, as noted, could be ignored. Bad things happen in small surf. You probably won’t drown, but everything you don’t want to touch when you are moving fast is so much closer to you in shallow water.

Kauilani and Eric got married at the Outrigger on Waikiki on the 9th. I was a last minute draftee to be the Master of Ceremonies for Niece Number Two’s wedding. A hundred and fifty people came. The family minister from Seattle was lost in a maelstrom of untidy, pointless memories and stained the event with a miserable anecdote about him and the groom being bad boys in some speeding dinghies. Such bad boys, bishop. I can see why you have a hard time forgiving yourself. And the bastard made the ultimate unforgivable error, which he had been trained to not do, by mispronouncing the bride’s name.

The pot should not call the kettle black though. As MC I felt required to crash course the protocols. How do we wed the people? The urge to share on the internet is an admirable trait among the humans: I was trained in a nano. Getting people to turn off their cell phones pleasantly was easy enough. I was congratulated on my gravitas and the commanding but not tedious sense of authority I brought to the occasion. But I silently caved when the moment came to allow my nephew, Travis, time for his little roast-toast in honor of the bride, his twin sister. With the late hour suddenly an issue it was mutually decided to stick to a shorter list. And he had even practiced the speech to me previously. As his father said later, “ You know, he is always the boy who never got picked for the little league teams. He’s used to it.”

During the aftermath breakfast surfside at the Outrigger, with many repentant heads not ready for public apologies due to alcohol ( but not mine), I gave Travis his due anyway. I’ll never know if he appreciated the gesture or not. After being left on the sidelines so often, he has probably learned to keep his disappointment to himself. He is an FBI agent now, which we think explains things, but probably not as neatly as we think.