NO SLUGS.

Will and I woke up pre-dawn to head to Santa Cruz this morning for a surf. We went to a pretty localized spot north of town.

salty local: "NO SLUGS."
me: "?"
loc: "NO SLUGS!"
me: "Huh?"
loc: "That must have worked, you're not gonna say anything?"
me: "I have no idea what you're talking about."
loc: "UCSC students. You know, slugs." (UC Santa Cruz' mascot is the banana slug.)
me: "Ohhhh! I'm not a student. We just came down from San Francisco."
loc: (total 180) "Sweet man! Hows the surf up north?"
me: "Pretty big, but totally blown out."

Then, we were bros. The guy was fucking crazy, I'm glad everything was cool. In the water, he told me he hadn't been to SF in over 10 years.

"SO YOU LIVE DOWNTOWN? MAANNNN, I JUST LIKE TA WALK AROUND AND LOOK AT ALL DA BUILDINGSSSS. . . "










I broke my leash on my first wave. On my long swim in, Will saved my board from the rocky shoreline. After a couple unsuccessful attempts to re-tie the leash to the strap, the knot that worked best (albeit temporarily): a noose! I give full credit to my dad for teaching me how to tie a noose, back when I was a teenager in Texas. For fishing hooks! FISHING HOOKS! WTF were you thinking, you racists?!