A Guide to the South Bay Surf and Action Sports Scene
Where's My International Surf Day?
It’s official: I didn’t get to celebrate International Surfing Day. Oh, I’m so ashamed. I even had it all planned out, too. I printed out one of these special forms from Jim Moriarty, chief executive of the Surfrider Foundation, which “excused” me from having to work today (flawless plan, like trying to take over Fort Knox with a single cherry bomb and a can-do attitude). My plan was to walk up to my boss and tell him in a commanding voice, “Sorry, chief (I’m trying to sound as official as possible here, so forgive me for the kitschy '50s nicknames) but I have to skip work today. I know, I know, you’ll miss me terribly. Nevertheless, today is the Eighth Annual International Surfing Day, and I can’t miss commemorating this epic event, which only comes once a year… like Christmas or National Donut Day. By the way, I deserve a raise, and the corner office… and a secretary. Get it done, sport.” Do I deal with enough paper work to justify needing a secretary? Well, no, not really. It just felt like it was the right time to make some inordinate demands.
So, what happened? I got to work, form in hand, and approached my boss. Before I could say anything, he told me I was going to have to stay late. I replied by telling him it was National Surfing Day, and I showed him my form. He looked at it, titled his head and said, “But wait… you’re employed. How are you a surfer?” I didn’t really know what to say; I couldn’t figure out if he thought that all surfers were unemployed, or that if I went surfing I’d be unemployed. The confusion was truly palpable. So, what did I do? I just let it go. I surrendered to the iron shackle of corporate America and spent the rest of my holiday filling out my analytic reports. Oh, for shame…
So, there you have it. I missed International Surfing Day, but I hope you all didn’t. I hope you spent the majority of your day ripping it up and spending as much time as possible floating in a line up somewhere in LA County. As for me, well, there’s always next year.