Last Wednesday, I brought my board when I met Jackie at the beach–mostly because I could; not necessarily because I expected the surf to be any good. The Park has decided to let us surf anywhere that is not a designated swimming area. Finally. This means that if you happen to have a day free of work or other obligations, you don’t have to rise with the sun to get in a decent session before the lifeguards kick your ass down to the ever-migrating surf beach. Since the regulation relaxation, I’ve noticed a lot more surfers in the water. Lured out by facility, I guess. Getting up super early/dropping by post-work does require some additional effort, which I can see being a deterrent–especially when the afternoon swell is often killed by the wind and the tides only occasionally ally themselves with your free time.
Wednesday, the waves were waist-high and the wind stayed offshore all day. Sun bakers probably weren’t too thrilled because the west wind always brings biting insects, but I couldn’t stay out of the water. It was greenish, with the occasional leaping fish (which made me slightly shark anxious) and while there were some closeouts (typical Jersey), there were also some decent lines. It was swell.
I extracted myself with just enough time to get to SMASH’s NYC premiere of SIGHT/SOUND. On the way there, I saw a guy strolling up the Parkway entrance ramp. He had a Mr. T-style mohawk. In one hand, he held a pipe. Like, the tobacco kind. In the other, he carried a silver boom box. Thoughts that went through my head: He’s awesome. That’s dangerous. I should have stopped and asked for his life story. No time. Oh well, he’s pretty recognizable; maybe I’ll see him again.
Water, Water Everywhere And Not A Drop To Drink 