The golden sand was hot to touch and the ocean so soothingly cool. Simon felt the snug fit of his billabong wetty as with board under his arm he dashed confidently into the mad surf. With a crash he flew through wave after wave until he left the break far behind him. Sliding serpently upon the buoyant board Simo then paddled leisurely across the flat in search of the big waves. Fellow surfers bobbed on the surface before the great sea rose up in answer to their simple prayer and three or four of the seal-like figures peeled off and flew down the great wall of ocean, entering the guts of the barrel as it curled over itself and then ripped the sheet of water to shreds as they cut up, down and then back across it in a display of unrivalled skill. Some drifted with poise and agility beating the cruel ocean and turning its waves into works of agile art. Others just lucked out and were knocked free from their board to suck up sea and sand and anything that lurked beneath the surface.
Simon hung out with the others, grommets and pros. Everyone was equal out on the waves. Everyone waited, no surfer had seniority, no skipping ahead and riding an extra wave based on skill or experience. No one dropped in, or if they did they made sure they acknowledged their mistake. That was the code. From where he was he could see the beach and its city of pretty umbrellas. Beneath each and every one there lounged mas and pas with their little ones, beach babes in bikinis and bathing suits that left little to the imagination and young men baring their back to the sun as they wore boardies or that sinful fashion statement the speedo. A immediate audience brought out by a glorious summer day. As Simon's number came up and the water rose up monstrously behind him he gritted his teeth and began to paddle. It was time to put on a show.
Then it was Simo and the wave. It roared around him and threatened to bowl him off his board. Through the tunnel he held his nerve until with uncanny force he was spat out the other side. Like a ramp Simo steered his board straight up and then he flew, the sun and the sky his friends for the briefest of moments until the board steered out of the nothing and smoothly back down the wave again. A jig, a jag and then across the face Simon flew before he sent his board with a swivel back up the face and into the open blue once more. This time as the board sent him back down again his flight was too long and his angle of decent too shallow. His board's nose slid sideways unexpectedly and the surfer was unceremoniously dismounted. With a big grin he paddled the rest of the way to shore.
"That was truly epic, mate!" yelled one of the shore dwellers as Simon shook the salt water from his hair.
"Yeah... I know..." Simon replied, "What a wild ride..."
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