
When do you consider yourself a '
ER? (Note an 'er not Emergency Room or that show with Noah Wylie that never seems to die.) That is, when do you confidently say to yourself and those around you that you are a surf
ER, snowboard
ER, skat
ER, ski
ER, etc.? How many days, months, years does it take? Do you need to be a pro like Andy Irons, Danny Kass, Danny Way or Tanner Hall? Or can you dabble, going 2 to 3 times a year to Colorado or Costa Rica?
Sitting in the water on
Playa Jobos surrounded by local hotshots using every little scrap of a wave as their personal launch pad, this question bobbed in and out of my mind like the playful waves surrounding me. After being out for an hour, I'd probably ridden one solid wave and eaten shit about 3 or 4 times. I pondered whether I deserved to call myself a surfER based on these stats.
It was an interesting mix of personalities in the water. There were probably one or two other Gringos (funny to consider myself a Gringo since I'm Korean), mainly on longboards with mixed ability, a few damas and chicas on a mix of long- and shortboards, a few older caballero longboarders and a solid crew of locals on thrusters.
I failed to include the Blue Crush newbie bikini girls straight off from the NJ and NY suburbs (seen above), playing in the white water.Like the first time in the school playground, the pecking order was quickly established. The Thrusters ruled the roost with their mix of endurance, athleticism, boyish confidence and tenure. Even if you could match some of their attributes, the combination gave them most of the waves. They're like the friggin' Energizer Bunny out from morning to night. The Longboardicos and -icas took off in the background like large pelicans, swooping gracefully up and down the line up, slow and methodical. On the outer edges, los Ninos, Surfer chicas and the Gringos jockeyed for the scraps in between the larger sets to make their mark.
I soaked it all in, looking for my window of opportunity, sitting somewhere in the midst of this social experiment, hopelessly outgunned on my Fish (the only retro-quad in the line up). Guilty, I smirked that at least I wasn't helpless like some of the pale, sunburned Gringos, but I certainly was not in the same league as some of my new "compatriots". Through a mix of good manners, horrible Spanglish and a few smiles/laughs, I had earned what could be considered an acceptance in this brief, fragile water world.
Shaking me out of my stupor, a wave with my name on it was barreling towards me. Taking a quick look around, the Thrusters were still paddling back from their last round of aerobatics. The Longboardicos were too far out, and the other Gringos were down, falling off while trying to stay balanced on their boards. I had priority over Los Ninos (since I was lined up closest to the crest of the wave), so I turned towards the beach, did a few quick paddles, and pushed to pop up.
In my mind, I was channeling Mick Fanning, but in reality I went ass over teakettle. The wave shut me down like a hot girl in high school (you know the one). As I shook myself off and paddled back out to do it again, I watched as one of newbie Gringos glided across a crumbling wave, grabbing the remnants of my catastrophe.
Replace beach with mountain or concrete, and this little story can be played out over and over again. So I go back to my central question: "What makes you an '
ER?" At what point do you transition from "Yah I surf (snowboard/skate/ski)" to "Yes I'm a surfer (snowboarder/skater/skier)". Does the Thruster crew or the Gringo kook have any more right to say they are surfers? At your local hill, does the
TechNine Food Court Gangster have more juice than Mr.
North Face Gore-tex in the park? And so on.
The lesson that we all learn over and over again is that our position in the pecking order is shaky at best. One knee injury or absent-minded moment can knock you down a peg or two.
I really don't have any answers to who can be considered an '
ER. All I know is that I flew my Fish down to
Puerto Rico, (tried to) surf some waist to OH waves and had fun. That's probably the most important part; that you have fun, regardless of your ability or experience. I'm claiming it!
If you're ever in Isabela, make sure to stop at El Carey right on 466, a great surfer-owned spot for breakfast, coffee and lunch plus some of the nicest people you'll ever meet.