It’s been 3 weeks without water. My life is being pulled by my work, wife, school, parents, girlfriend, weather, kids, chores, injuries, and etc. I can no longer focus on life. I stop by grocery stores just to get a glimpse of a wave. Late at night, I swing by Barnes and Noble to get a closer look. Ads, articles, pictures, at this point my body is actually absorbing the ink from the page. I put extra salt on my fries because I am craving the ocean. My energy is gone. My work is dragging. I have entered into a state of depression. I cannot find my way out. I needed help.
So I did what any water starved howlie would do. I went to my local surf shop. The minute I walked inside I could sense the tropical smell of the coconut wax. Giant posters splashed on the wall of girls duck diving into a wave with the latest Roxy print embroidered into pink, green, and brown bikinis. Underwater reefs unveiled by the light of the sun through a glassy green barrel showing the essence of life. A moment of energy caught and then it crashes into white water and is gone.
I headed toward the back of the store – I needed to feel a board in my hands. My mood took me back into a retro state as I found myself holding a 6’ 2” quad with nice lines and just the right rocker. A little heavy in the nose, but I did not want to give up wave count. I needed to be in an environment where I felt comfortable. I grabbed 2 bars and a flannel – yeah flannel. There’s nothing more like a borrowed flannel that gives a girl the feeling of belonging to her dude. I put down the romance novel and gave a wink as I walked out the door. Loaded up my new board and drove 2.3 miles to the nearest break. Shannon and Britney paddled out with me. Pink and green Roxy never looked so good. It was a great session, but the girls needed to go and I needed to head south.
The radio said a storm was hitting Mexico and I knew there would be trouble at the border if I did not get over early. Three hours into Mexico and 5 road “crosses” told the only story left - Life being remembered. Three days in a tent and a beat up truck. I made friends with the gypsy’s. We told stories, and caught waves. We caught a lot of waves. The only thing left from the trip was the smell of a beach fire burning left in the threads of my newly worn flannel. Yeah flannel. Remember when you wore one last.
But this wasn’t a commercial, it was a road trip. It’s what I needed. It’s what we all need every now and then. Complacency or grooven down a one way street with A frames waiting in the water, I never found the source that trip, but life isn’t always that easy.