Sun ‘n Surf beach club played a big role in my younger years, it also did all it could to erase those memories from my brain on one fateful day.
I was a boogie boarder in my younger years and what that means is that I was too fat and clumsy to learn how to surf so instead I enjoyed the laziness a boogie board provided. All you would do is lay on your stomach and when a wave came it carried you to the shore.
If you’ve never boogie boarded before imagine tanning face down on the beach and then someone picking you up and placing you somewhere else almost completely undisturbed.
It is quite the thrill.
Unlike surfing that takes concentration and physical exertion, boogie boarding takes laziness and a white t-shirt so you don’t get a rash from the foam the board is made of. However if you can find a rash-guard it is suggested because too often men would oogle my bitchtits and it made everyone uncomfortable.
In fact the first time I learned that I had “man-boobs” was after exiting the water and hearing a little girl say to her mom, “why is that pregnant woman wearing a see-through top, mommy?” and the mother horrifyingly covering her child’s eyes and running off to tell the lifeguard on duty that she doesn’t go to Sun ‘n Surf to be exposed to such horrors. To which the lifeguard responded, “OH! that’s Bobby Bitchtits. He’s just fat and has man-boobs.”
OUCH! Sun ‘n Surf could have probably erased that memory from my mind.
Despite the fact that boogie boarding was really a lazy-man’s sport there was some thrill to it if you can consider riding a 3-foot wave a heart pounding experience.
Every once in a while we would get waves that exceeded 4-feet or, if you need a visual, about the size of two Vern Troyers. On those days people would flock to the water in hopes of fighting off waves that wouldn’t be able to topple over a toddler, but they would still act like they just won a battle against a great gladiator. The water smacking against their chest would create red marks that they would wear with pride because that would be a symbol of the only fight they had ever won in their lives.
One day the water was particularly rough. The waves were as tall as three Verns and my anticipation was building as we slowly made our way through the hot sand toward the water. After battling a family that had a pretty mean dog we had to move our spot down the beach a little further.
The water was almost out of reach.
Finally we settled down and before my mom could say, “put on your sunscreen” I was out of there dragging my boogie board behind me.
A few people thought I was a cabana boy and started throwing items on my board and giving me money. I dumped their stuff off wherever I pleased and kept the money.
Finally the moment had arrived and I made my way into the water. I dove with my board over a small wave while pushing a small child looking for hermit crabs out of my way. It was like the final scene of “Free Willy” before that Michael Jackson song starts to play and it was absolutely glorious.
As I swam out I looked back at the shore it was almost a small spec in the distance and the water had to be about four feet deep. I waved to my parents to which a lifeguard thought I was drowning, luckily he tripped over the kid I pushed down earlier.
Out of no where I felt myself get lifted on the boogie board so I started to paddle in order to stay with the break of the wave. I knew this was a big one because the water below me was so shallow I could see the ocean floor which was a feat in itself considering how polluted the water on Long Island is.
And then I went over the crest of the wave and was in a free fall toward the ground. It took me a second to realize what was happening but after falling for about 2 1/2 Verns I knew this wasn’t going to end well.
The floor of the ocean is not that forgiving and was almost like hitting my head on a concrete slab below a thin carpeting.
I left the water holding my head and sat down with a family I had never met before.
Years later my parents told me of the story of how they found me in my new family’s cabana and how they knew something was off because I was eating a grilled cheese and I hate grilled cheese.
I think secretly I was trying my best to impress them.
That night I was taken to the hospital for examination and that’s when I found out I had a minor concussion. My parents were instructed to let me sleep but ask me questions every couple of hours to make sure my brain was functioning correctly.
“who is your favorite baseball player?”
For every question I got right the prize was more sleep, it was a great motivator.
“who is the president?”
The president is just a figurehead for corporations to push through their own agenda in order to control the mass chaos that is humanity.
“Um, I guess that’s correct. Bill Clinton would’ve also been accepted.”
“What are your thoughts on grilled cheese?”
Disgusting and an abomination to all mankind. I can’t tell if it’s the concussion or even the thought of eating a grilled cheese that is making me nauseous.
“Our son is fine!”