Here’s a question: If you’re a threatening, deriding (not like de-riding or anything to do with actual surfing) dickwad supposedly ‘local’ surfer claiming the benefits of proximity to one break, can you really move your little ‘my wave’ show to another spot?
SO, I call up Reggie, see if he can help me finish a job where the clients decided, with the painting almost done, to eliminate one of the colors, already two coats (three where some of the eves needed primer), meaning two more coats on those area, meaning more time. It seems Reggie was just getting out of the water at a spot where his phone (not mine) works (not enough to call me and give a report- that’s not an acceptable thing, if caught doing so, out here on the frontier). It seems he and at least one other surfer were ‘mean-mugged,’ more or less forced out of the water.
The info is pretty much in the introduction; same vibe, different spot. OH, the answer to Localism Transference is, NO, Can’t do it. Local here, non-local (read visitor) everywhere else.
Evidently this doesn’t matter to Mr. Stinkeye and his accomplice. It should.
NOW, Reggie did show up on my job. Thanks, man; and we, of course, had a discussion of the incident. A little later on, I got a call from Adam Wipeout, someone who, because of his job, growing, selling and all things Oyster, he gets around in the Pacific Northwest; and, because he is, I always say, “The most gregarious person I’ve ever met,” he seems to be accepted at the various beaches he visits.
AND, the truth is, we’re all just visitors here. ANYWAY, Adam didn’t seem too shocked by the story. He mentioned something about “Take back the Strait.” Wait. What? Is that a thing?
Still not sure. Adam had to go, I had to finish painting, Reggie said it may be a thing. Instagram, dark web; I don’t know. BUT, for someone who does a fair share of complaining about hipsters and crowds of hipsters and hodads and such, someone who has yelled, ‘paddle around,’ once or twice, to those who persist on not doing so, I still, while paddling (around the waves, possibly though the lineup) to my spot, my lineup spot, do try, somewhat, to be not-unpleasant in the water. If my motto is, “I’m here to surf,” and it is, my intention is to enjoy the experience. And I do.
Reggie said he and his friend did note that the main stink-eyer didn’t seem to even enjoy the waves he caught.
OKAY, I didn’t want to get into my well known lack of surf etiquette, but, I do seem to know quite a few of the folks I surf with, and I have tried. I have been patient, asked if it’s my turn. “No, not yet.” Now? “Not yet.” Wait. What?
ANYWAY, I went looking for an appropriate photo to go with the latest story of stinkeye and mean-mugging; and, scrolling down, down, I found this one.
It’s, obviously, by Kevin Roche (I commented on his site by way of asking his permission) and is of C. R. Stecyk III, giving not-exactly-the-stinkeye, but standing outside the La Paloma Theatre in Encinitas. Wait. What? I loved the La Paloma; Trish and I went there all the time when we lived in Encinitas (sadly, just east of I-5) in the mid-70s. I went there frequently when it was the Surfboards Hawaii shop and factory in the late 60s. I had to use the photo.
SO, since I had read the name, knew he had some connection to “Lords of Dogtown” and “Dora Lives,” I googled Mr. Stecyk the third.
Interesting stuff. Skateboarder, surfer, artist, writer; oh, and he’s, like, one year older than me. Contemporaries. I won’t bother you with the details; check for yourself; but, as another contemporary of mine, surfer Tom Burns, frequently says, “Here’s the deal.” Yeah, here it is. Real surfers are after waves; the enjoyment of being in the water and trying to fit our gangly awkward selves into a few observable, rideable, but, ultimately untamable manifestations of energy.
SAVE THE STINKEYE for, I don’t know, the next time some person with a Trump hat cuts you off on the way to get his oversized rig into the handicapped parking spot (nothing against people who deserve handicapped spots). ACTUALLY, I’ve discovered, flashing a smile and a peace sign seems to work just as well as the alternative (flip-off, mouthing expletives) in eliciting a response; by which I mean a mean-mugging, stinkeye response. SUCCESS. He’s angry, you’re not. Yeah, maybe he was already angry, hence the Trump hat.
VOTING UPDATE: I dropped off our ballots at the secure dropbox at the Jefferson County Courthouse. There was a guy with a wheelbarrow nearby. I asked him if he was security. No, of course not. “How often do they empty the box?” A couple of times a day; big deal, Deputies and all. “Okay.”
NOW, supposedly, we can check on our ballots, where they are in the process, online. Trish is going to do that. Today.