Surf Lesson No. 263: Don’t take your wife to the beach the night your surfboard gives you a good ding on the head.
“I knew this sport wasn’t safe! I just knew it,” said Nancy holding the baby as I carried my board from the surf. “Now look at you. You’re horribly disfigured, and you weren’t that good looking before.”
I had a small gash on the side of my forehead and a little blood was puddling up. Just barely. It looked worse than it was, but it was puffing out, swollen and starting to bruise. On the bright side, it was pretty damn cool. I’m by no means a good surfer, and barely qualify as mediocre. In reality, I suck. But now I had a nice little head wound to prove I could do something well on the water.
My wife, on the other hand, was none too impressed. Why of all nights did it have to be this night?
Surf Lesson No. 264: If you want to surf again, don’t walk out of the surf and ask your wife in the most casual manner, “Is my head bleeding?” This is especially dumb when you already know your head IS bleeding and it will cause her to freak out.
I could have said anything and it would’ve been better. Maybe a good excuse or a way to hide it. Maybe I should have shielded my face with the surfboard … for the next couple of days. Or redirected her attention? “Look over there! A pelican just swallowed a Volkswagen.” Or played dumb.
“Blood? What blood? Oh, must have been from shaving … my forehead.” Try a misdirect? “Did I mention how much I love you? And love is like a head wound …”
But, no, I had to say, “Is my head bleeding?”
Surf Lesson No. 265: If you have to think about putting your arms up in front of your face to protect yourself from your board, it’s probably too late.
KATHUNK!
All had been going pretty well that evening, up until about five minutes after I got into the water. I popped up on a wave that was foaming and hissing and cussing, and rode it just long enough to realize I was the coolest guy on the planet and probably should be on the cover of a surf magazine.
My board and I resembled an out-of-control torpedo with an over-caffeinated monkey on top. When I mix fear with pure adrenaline, I instinctively scream things like, “yap-a-doeeee!” and “momma’s biscuits are burning!”
Next thing I knew, I was toppling off into this wave that was part trash compactor and part washing machine. It tumbled the board and me over and over, and it was at that exact moment that I remember thinking, “Hey, this is probably one of those times when I should protect my …”
WHAM!
Too late.
Surf Lesson No. 266: If you might be bleeding, get out of the water! In fact, if you reach up with your hand, see blood on it and notice fins with steak knives circling, get out of the water!
Me? It took me a good 45 minutes or so before I realized I was bleeding, and all that time I had kept on surfing. Sharks were out setting their tables and trying to decide how best to marinate me.
Surf Lesson No. 267: When your wife is genuinely concerned, don’t just shake it off and declare you’re going back out. It’s a great way to get your surfboard impounded. Instead, simply look serious, talk about how the ocean has no regard for your personal safety, how you’ve learned a serious lesson, and how next time you will be much more careful.
Just keep to yourself how cool you think your first surfboard-induced head wound is and how you hope it leaves a little scar for years of widely-exaggerated stories about the night you were hit by a meteor while hanging 10 and fought off the sharks on your longboard.