Leashless and Fancy Free

Perhaps I don't know the meaning of "flat" or maybe I refuse to take "flat" (as opposed to "no") for an answer. All I knew when I woke up this morning was that I was going surfing. I would find a wave. Somewhere. Somehow. (Well, I wasn't overly optimistic; I still packed my skates and my iPod, just in case.) I called CYT this morning and told her every report I'd seen used the dreaded four-letter word that begins with F. As usual, I needed to check this out for myself. We agreed to meet at El Porto. I've said it before and I'll say it again: "flat" is a relative term when it comes to El Porto. When the local breaks disappoint, you can usually find a little something—if you're on a longboard—at El Porto. Weren't we surprised to enter the parking lot, below the Chevron station, only to find that El Porto was, in fact, flat? No way! Way! CYT looked south and saw a few people in the water. We then headed to 26th Street. All it takes is for me to see one person catch something. When you see that, you know it's not completely flat. Once again, I left the leash in the car. I knew I could handle those conditions without doing too much swimming. To no one's surprise, I enjoyed myself. Small days are always fun. People tend to accept the waves for what they are. No one's going to get aggro over a three foot wave. The few of us who were out could have given a class in wave etiquette. There was no dropping in, no wave hogging, no jockeying for position. We shared what there was and treated each other with civility. It's too bad there's not more of that in the water.