I rode my bike to work as usual.
As I peddled out of the driveway, dawn was breaking in the east, but a huge storm cloud hung over the island. This huge black cloud turned the suns light into the strangest orange hue I’ve ever seen. It was artificial and surreal… like a thousand streetlights were illuminating us from the sky. I felt like I was in a scene from an alien invasion movie.
Then I noticed a perfect double rainbow to the West, while to the south, bolts of lightening zapped across the oily black clouds.
I stopped to check the surf. A strong storm has battered our island for the past few days, and generated huge surf and beach erosion. The climax came last night. A series of wooden walkways carry beachgoers across the dunes and onto the beach. They are at least 10 feet above the sand below. The one I walked along had a build up of sand half way down. In other words, the waves must have made it above the walkway.
A couple of hours later, Trent bounded into the office. “Why are you here?” he says to all four of us at the same time. “It’s big, it’s clean. I was just there. As soon as my meeting’s finished, I’m there.”
Trent is talking about the waves. It’s time to go surfing.
I rush home to get my surfboard. Before a surf session, I always watch this to pump me up.
I speed over to Peter’s Point to meet the others. The waves are huge… the biggest I’ve seen in this area. I paddle out hard. I don’t want one of these monsters landing on me. If they do, I’ll be flailing around in whitewater for ten minutes. I get lucky… the waves open up for me in just the right places and I make it past the break without getting my hair wet.
I love big waves. They seem so much more organized and silent… like a mess hall after the general has just walked in. Or maybe it’s because all my other senses are on overdrive that I don’t hear. I’m not sure. Huge waves create a breeze as they roll past. It slaps you in the side of the face as you bob over the wave’s peak.
I charged to catch the first huge wave that came for me. It surprised me. The take off was much smoother and gentler than on small waves. It’s because big waves take longer to build into a wall. I surfed down the face. Behind me, the hulk formed its wall and then collapsed onto the back of my board. I fell over backwards as if I’d slipped on a giant banana peel. The whitewater washed over me and I felt the painful tug on my ankle of the surfboard’s leash.
An hour later, I was so tired and dizzy, I almost puked. I paddled in and spent the rest of the day with jelly in my biceps…
Issue deadline today…
Normally issue deadlines kill me. I get anxious and stressed. This one was a piece of cake.
Last month I shook up my schedule to avoid the stress of last minute deadlines. I vowed to write them gradually during the week before my deadline, so that by the time the weekend came, I’d have it almost done.
Well, I still couldn’t do it. At Saturday midday, I still hadn’t done anything. (deadline midday Monday.) Then I found the story I was after and 24 easy hours later, I’d written an excellent issue. That includes a couple hours mowing the lawn and hanging out with Guillaume and friends for an hour or two.
I think my point is, when I just get down and write them, they really don’t take very long. It’s only when I pfaff around that they eat me so much time and give me so much grief. And as for getting them written early… well, I’m gonna keep trying…
Dave heard something so surprising, he choked on his beer! Dave grabbed a napkin and wiped his chin. Then he used the napkin to wipe the floor…
Then I told him how much we paid for our house here in Florida. I translated it into pounds for effect. That’s when he spit out his beer. He couldn’t believe how cheap our house was…
The U.S. dollar is collapsing.
America’s currency is now the lowest it has ever been against the euro. Against the British pound, it is at its lowest levels in years. Almost any currency in the world actually. They are all rising against the U.S. dollar.
The evidence? Go to Disney World. You’ll hear more British accents than American ones. Or you could ask Dave, when he’s finished cleaning beer of the floor…