The home break was unbelievably crowded on Sunday. I even heard a guy in the parking lot ask the question we’ve all been asking for many a Sunday: “Doesn’t anybody go to church anymore?” The number of people in the water was completely ridiculous.
I’d love to say the interlopers cause all the problems, that they drop in and don’t play nice. No. I’d have to save that criticism for some of the regulars. Throughout much of the session, I was sandwiched between the two worst offenders.
On either side of them were the interlopers. None of these people, neither the locals and nor the unwelcomed visitors, gave any thought to a lineup or etiquette. It was a true free-for-all.
After the session, one of the locals pushed me as he was walking by. These guys don’t play. They accept those of us who’ve surfed there (and suffered there) for years. We’ve earned their respect. They throw serious stinkeye at everyone else. After the push, he laid it all out there in one sentence. If you don’t start yelling at these people, I’m going to start yelling at you.
He wasn’t kidding. Time to learn the art of the stinkeye, I guess. I prefer not to talk to people who piss me off, but if such behavior on my part means I must suffer the wrath of Johnny Rotten, our most vocal and least tolerant regulator, I’d rather become a regulator.
Guest post courtesy of Surfsister Mary Mills, the new regulator of LA surf!