I received a new subscription to day for my blog and now I have a grand total of three fans. This is exciting I feel like Sally Field when she received her Oscar: You like me , you really really like me….well three of you do. And I thank you. I went blog surfing for the first time in my life and the only other surfing I have ever tried was on an over sized board shaped like a flattened shark in Hawaii. I was fifteen then and on a family vacation to an island that was once invaded by the Japanese. My father was a Navy gun boat captain during WWII and spent days in Honolulu, but thank God, was shipped out to the Philippines before that horrible day happened. I love fate. Not as much as I love God, but I think Fate is Gods little sister. Er…wait …that would be Faith. Anyway, my father thought it was a great idea if I tried surfing and he pre booked a lesson with out my approval. Albeit now that I am a parent I understand that some teens lose their inalienable rights and the only approval needed is mine.
My lesson included three hours with a tanned twenty-something shirtless Kahuna instructing me on a 6’x 18″ two inch thick slab of polyurethane and epoxy resin. This all seemed wonderfully adventuresome and thrilling except for one valid point: I am not a strong swimmer and the only deep sea extravaganza I attempted was resting my tushie on a giant floatie in a pool: with a life guard on standby…..This local Kane-boy had me paddling out in a direction that included no land in sight and what seem to take forever to reach our destination. Mano-a-mano. My arms hurt and tired because back then I was the size of a tree branch and my peers nicknamed me Twiggy; well at least it was after a famous model….a very anorexic model but a model nun the least. A model a shark would ignore….
The surfer Brah stopped mid ocean and sat upright on his board and stared intently out to the ocean as if he were waiting for his ship to come in; maybe filled with scantily clad Wahini’s wearing co-co nut bras, hoping he might get a lei.. He told me to sit up on my board and dangle my feet into the water. I told him that I didn’t mind if we just sat out here for three hours soaking up some rays and that my dad will never know the difference because he and my mother are visiting the Royal Hawaiian bar and Grill with friends enjoying too many umbrella drinks. He didn’t buy it, he also said that my father told him I would say that. So I managed to rise on all fours shaking like my puppy when he’s out in sub zero temperatures trying to take a dump, and straddle my skinny legs over the sides of the board. Only I was not facing the same direction he was; I was facing the shoreline filled with Haole’s and Malahini’s spreading Hawaiian Tropic over their Mainland pale bodies. I saw Hotel’s lined up with the Lanai’s staring at me with Mauna tops peaking out from behind shouting ” Get Out!”.
My Kapuna pointed to the massive wave starting to arise on the horizon and waved at me to follow him. My mind immediately went into panic mode and I tried reaching under my board for a life jacket or a flare gun, but the instructor kept calling out to me louder than the shore. I did what any normal person would do when confronted with fear: I closed my eyes and paddled like a fish out of water. My eyes were shut so tight that all the vast array of Blue turned into a sea of blackness. There I was paddling my board like an out of control jet ski driven by Helen Keller and holding my breath until I met my maker. Which I ultimately ran into. I found myself laying atop the front half of my instructors board. I opened my eyes and said “Aloha? “.
We didn’t have time for casual conversation because he whipped me about face and grabbed my hand and started to paddle with the oncoming wave. Then he yelled at me to “stand up NOW“! My twig legs took root and I rose like a new seedling in a Spring garden. There I was, actually surfing. I was standing on top of water. I was as close as you could get to Jesus’ same scenario at Galilee except I had a prop.
I don’t recall what transpired next except I think I was sleeping with the Mahi-Mahi. I toppled into the ocean and was caught in a curl of rip tide tumbling like a load of wet jeans in a dryer. Some kind Wave decided to toss me out on the shore line where I landed next to an elderly couple sleeping in their deck chairs . They watched me with one eye opened as I spat out sea salt and emptied the Sahara Desert from my bikini bottoms. My Surfing Teacher ran up to me laughing and telling me next time will be Mo’ Betta.
I stood there Shaka like a Taro leaf and told him I needed to find a bathroom WikiWiki where I can pupus. Mahalo nui loa! surfs up?