Here we go...
As some of you may or may not know, I moved from the Jersey Shore to the New River Valley, in southwest Virginia. I miss the ocean. I miss the beach, I miss my olympic-sized pool. I am sure there is something Freudian there, but I digress... Anyhoo, about a month ago, I went on vacation upon the shores of Jersey. Some refer to it as the Irish Riviera. Anyway, I stayed there for a while, in a few different towns, wife and kids free, completely unencumbered. I stayed on the beach the entire time. Very, and I mean, VERY nice. Watched the sun rise every morning, then went surfing. There is something so spiritually refreshing about sitting on the beach with some old friends, watching the lobster boats with their huge outriggers out, haul ass outta Point Pleasant, waiting on the sunrise, catching a short set, and then, planning your day. The perfect day. If you don't know, then I can't explain it to you... I digress again.
So I am on like the upteenth day in a row of perfect weather, full on bliss. It's Tuesday, the day after Columbus Day, like I give a shit...
I come back in after a couple of mediocre sets, but I am not bummed, because it's the MIDDLE OF OCTOBER, and I am surfing without a wetsuit, because the heavens and earth aligned, and at 7:00a.m. the air temp is like 72 degrees, the water is like 68 degrees, and there is an eastern breeze. Stoked. Ready for whatever the day may bring. BTW, I am at the MOST LOCAL, as in locals only(translation, need to be on point, i.e. need to be paying attention, follow surfers rules of etiquette, but just in case, carrying a stainless steel weapon) of spots on the entire Jersey shore, the Manasquan inlet. I come back to my spot, and much to my chagrin, I see that my brand new, $70 pair of DC SHOES are gone. Totally bummed. Call my buddies up, they are on their way to PA. There I am, no ride, no shoes, damn. I walk almost a mile, barefoot, into the town of Manasquan, trying to buy shoes. The surf shop,
Inlet-Outlet is out of everything but kiddie sizes in flip-flops, because it's so late in the season. Three convenience stores, a cobbler, and a five and dime later, I was still shoe-less joe, shit out of luck. There is a consignment shop there, that is, apparently, closed on Tuesdays. I rolled up on it, again, barefoot...
The woman doing inventory started to tell me to get lost, then realized who I was, invited me in, sold me a $50 pair of loafers for $4, and threw in a shirt, hooked me up. We spoke briefly of my mother. After that, I headed up to NYC, new shoes on foot, and continued my adventure. Later that day, outside of a pub in the city, an extremely "local" joint, 5 guys tried to strong-arm me outta a leather jacket, but that's another story....