Sky Rockets in Flight, Afternoon Delight
If you recognize those lyrics, I have but one thing to say: Boy, are you old!!!
So CYT and I went looking for surf this morning. We found serious closeouts at Bay Street and next to nothing as we headed north. After some hemming and hawwing, we gave up. We both had plans. But before we parted company, I said I would try to make a run back to RPB once the tide went back out. We agreed to synchronize our watches and meet there later. (And if you laughed at "synchronized our watches," you're still old.) See, I was going to see about a job in the early afternoon. That, of course, took precedence. I couldn't worry about surfing. This was about money. Fast forward to early afternoon: when I left the place, I departed with the knowledge that I'd been essentially hired on the spot (except I can't start work there full-time until mid-December when the semester ends). All that stands between me and the job is the background check. (I hope that little stint at Sybil Brand doesn't show up! I was framed!) Of course, throughout the interview, an interview I'd not expected and didn't dress for, I was thinking about the surf. I finally got out of there at 2 and made a mad dash to RPB. I quickly chatted with CYT, who was leaving just as I arrived, and paddled out. The swell is coming. My only worry is the wind. There was quite a bit of push in the water, but the onshore winds did a number on the waves. They were a bit walled up. Still, I told myself I could surf until 3. I managed to get four waves. (Note: the swell had yet to produce enough juice to send consistent waves through RPB.) The last one was the charm. After it was over, I thought, "Is there a word for what I just did?" No, it was nothing spectacular. I guess I was carving. I don't know. I'm still unclear about some surf terms. This wave was a good long one. It's not that the wave held up so much as I was actually looking at the wave the entire time. So I was able to speed around white water and charge back up the face of the wave. I did a few turns off the top. What's that called when you do that on a longboard? On a shortboard, those turns would have been faster, right? Is that a "snap"? Is it called something different on a longboard? And what's it called when you get to the top of the wave, turn, go back down, and then repeat? I wasn't going off the lip, was I? Who knows? I was on Cloud Nine. I was doing an afternoon surf session; I don't know that I've ever surfed after, say, noon. It was a nice change. I was also on Cloud Nine because I'd gone into a job interview-type situation and was completely myself. (I'm at the point now where I'm too old to fake the funk. In other words, I can't pretend to be interested in a job if it's something I really don't want to do.) Apparently, being real—in my jeans, tank top, and clogs, and explaining quite clearly what I was looking for in the job—was appreciated at that place. There were other applicants there wearing slacks, shirts, and ties. Somehow, I thought the place would be more interested in my attitude and not so much in my attire. I was right. And I feel like this is a place where I was and am meant to work.
3 Comments:
I've got to find a place like that to work.
I hate to say it, but right now I wish I was unemployed, just so I could surf in the morning.... I'm a putz. But a wave lovin' putz.
My current job allows me to surf at least three days per week. But I don't make any money. And I had to have a master's degree to get that dumb job. This new job will be a 45 hour per week gig. But I will be making money. I will probably have two weekdays off, thus allowing me to surf on those uncrowded days. It's a job that relates to athletics and, frankly, that's all I've ever wanted (even with all of my high falutin' education). I still don't have it yet. I call them back on Tuesday and also wait for the background check. Even though the job will probably mean the end of most of my surfing (and perhaps the end of this blog), I'm ready to do it. I need money!! Being able to say "I'm a part-time college professor" is not paying the bills, no matter how much prestige some people attach to that job.
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