Urban Surf Stuff: Why Waking Up in a City That Doesn’t Sleep is Impossible
The situation I least expected: sitting in a bar in New York City’s East Village, discussing the topic of beach breaks versus reef breaks with a freelance lighting technician. Being on the guest list of a private party is one thing, but this was quite another.
Since the party was for the photo editors of a major women’s magazine, I expected some conversations about F-stops, or digital cameras, or the benefits of stock photography. But surfing, among the cocktail-sipping, expensive-fashion-wearing, better-looking-than-me set?
I don’t know what I enjoyed more: the actual conversation, or the genuine interest created among some of the party-goers. It’s as if we were on display, but not in that condescending “totally awesome, dude” way that we’ve all been forced to suffer thanks to Fast Times at Ridgemont High. I’d like to think that the interest is akin to finding out that your next-door neighbor was a contestant on Jeopardy. Not life-changing, but kind of interesting because of the stories involved. Of course, there are those who are still caught in the question: “There are waves on the East Coast?”
For the past two weeks or so, I’ve been travelling non-stop for work. First Boston, then New York — hence the party. Almost a full three weeks since I’ve been in the ocean. I had the chance to surf the day after I returned from this whirlwind tour, and although I was exhausted, I gladly accepted.
Travel is great, but there’s something to be said about coming home, especially when your home involves those waves that some don’t believe exist on the East Coast.