With the holiday weekend approaching, the dreaded Spring winds packed their wind suitcases and got in their wind cars and bailed. A fresh swell was scheduled to hit my home shore and it was not officially a day off for most, meaning my chances for a good session were solid.
I had made up my mind to walk south to Wisconsin Street as was tradition last summer, but my mind was occupied when my subconscious steered me north, towards Pier. I made it maybe five steps before I realized which way I was walking and decided to leave it up to Jesus, for He knows better than I.
I was looking into the plate glass windows of the closed businesses as I walked along the 101 when I heard someone call out to me. It was a black woman in a dress. The exchange went like this:
Lady: "HeeeeEEEEEEEEeeeeey!"
EddieP: "Hey!"
L: "You going to have some fun?"
EP: "Absolutely!"
L: "Thank you for saying good morning to me. It makes my day!"
I then realized this was someone I'd greeted near the bus stop on a couple of separate occasions. I've made a habit of saying hello to fellow pedestrians as I've always thought it weird when people walk by each other and pretend the other doesn't exist.
EP: "You're welcome!"
I continue walking and pass her.
L: "My name is ChiChi."
EP: "ChiChi? Mine's Eddie."
L: "God bless you, Eddie."
EP: "Right back atcha!"
I continued walking, hopeful that ChiChi's blessing would last through my session.
I arrived and balked at the head count at Pier. There was no way I was going to do battle with all of those guys.
My first wave was a left that looked racy, then looked downright unmakeable by the time I was up on it. I pumped up slightly upon stomping, then slammed my weight forward to cover as much water as possible.
Five or so forgettable waves later, I caught a left and swooped down on it. It's the first wave in too many sessions on which I had some real options, though it did slow down about three-quarters of the way through. I smashed the lip and slid the tail out hard, the board became parallel with the sand. I ALMOST pulled it. Had the wave had a bit more juice to it I think I would have been able to get back up.
I eventually took a close-out in.
I had made up my mind to walk south to Wisconsin Street as was tradition last summer, but my mind was occupied when my subconscious steered me north, towards Pier. I made it maybe five steps before I realized which way I was walking and decided to leave it up to Jesus, for He knows better than I.
I was looking into the plate glass windows of the closed businesses as I walked along the 101 when I heard someone call out to me. It was a black woman in a dress. The exchange went like this:
Lady: "HeeeeEEEEEEEEeeeeey!"
EddieP: "Hey!"
L: "You going to have some fun?"
EP: "Absolutely!"
L: "Thank you for saying good morning to me. It makes my day!"
I then realized this was someone I'd greeted near the bus stop on a couple of separate occasions. I've made a habit of saying hello to fellow pedestrians as I've always thought it weird when people walk by each other and pretend the other doesn't exist.
EP: "You're welcome!"
I continue walking and pass her.
L: "My name is ChiChi."
EP: "ChiChi? Mine's Eddie."
L: "God bless you, Eddie."
EP: "Right back atcha!"
I continued walking, hopeful that ChiChi's blessing would last through my session.
I arrived and balked at the head count at Pier. There was no way I was going to do battle with all of those guys.
My first wave was a left that looked racy, then looked downright unmakeable by the time I was up on it. I pumped up slightly upon stomping, then slammed my weight forward to cover as much water as possible.
Five or so forgettable waves later, I caught a left and swooped down on it. It's the first wave in too many sessions on which I had some real options, though it did slow down about three-quarters of the way through. I smashed the lip and slid the tail out hard, the board became parallel with the sand. I ALMOST pulled it. Had the wave had a bit more juice to it I think I would have been able to get back up.
I eventually took a close-out in.
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