Travelworm

Part 2:  Timmy Goes Surfing

Now let me preface this little article with a bit of Timmy trivia: this worm has been longing to ride a wave since the day it was hatched.  I've seen dogs and bunnies go surfing, and even a lame little ferret, so don't tell me it can't be done. 

And thus, we have the mission of the day: Timmy must get on a board and ride.

But first I had to find someone to teach me.    

The first time I brought the subject up with my surfer friend (henceforth to be known as Surfer Dave), he almost choked on his spam musubi (a Hawaiian food specialty that's kind of like sushi, but with, well, spam).  

He just wasn't comfortable with the thought of a legless, armless, boneless animal trying to balance on a board, in dangerous, completely drown-able waters.  Waters, he pointed out, that are choc-full of hungry, predatory fish which are well-known for chomping down on members of the said legless, armless, boneless animal's family.  "And I haven't even mentioned the seagulls," he warned.  "Those birds will sink their little beaks into you and never let go," he continued, perhaps just a little too graphically. 

Well, maybe he had a point. 

But I had a dream, boys and girls.   I had a dream.  And this worm always goes for his dreams.  (Umm, generally speaking.)

So after much debating and cajoling (subtly interspersed with bribery and thinly-veiled threats) surfer friend finally relented.  He wasn't going to teach me himself – he didn't want that on his conscience, he says – but he did begin hitting up everyone he knew in the area, telling them that a strange but determined little invertebrate really wanted to ride the waves. 

And that was why, a couple of hours later, just after a scrumptious lunch of sweet shrimp at Macky's, a roadside Kahuku Shrimp Truck Stall on the Kamehameha Highway, Surfer Dave was driving us to the North Shore for my first-ever surfing lesson.  And man, was I pumped.  The swells were gorgeous, the sun was shining, and the sea was as blue as a dream.  I jumped out of the car as soon as we got to Sunset Beach, and Surfer Dave introduced me to one of his buddies, Surfer Dan.  Surfer Dan gave me one of those assessing looks and asked me if I could swim.  I'm not really a marine worm but I figured I could probably wiggle my way from Point A to Point B, so I told him, yeah, no problem.  He gave me a child-sized board, tied the ankle strap around my … errr… around me, and demonstrated the intricacies of "popping up" on a board, while still on sand.  Then we were off!  (Well, sort off.  I don't have arms to paddle, so Surfer Dan basically towed me to where the swells were.)

And you know what?  I was a natural!  After five tries, I finally managed to pop up and work my way to a decent, semi-standing position.  After half an hour, I was riding those waves like a spineless Kelly Slater.  Man, I rock.

Yes, I'm about $150 poorer (Surfer Dan jacks up the price for unusual cases – and no, Travelworm's not reimbursing me for that as it was a "personal excursion"), and I nearly drowned a couple of times, but who cares?  I lived out a dream, boys and girls.  For one brief shining moment, I was a worm on the surf.   And it was absolute heaven.

Tired but exhilarated after debuting my impressive board skills, Surfer Dave and I agreed that it was time for a snack.  We spied the famous Matsumoto shop as we drove out of Sunset Beach, and we quickly made a turn into a public parking lot so we could sample some of that Hawaiian Shave Ice that everybody was talking about.  (Oh yes, it's "shave" not "shaved" – I asked.)

Basically, what you get is a sizable paper cone which they fill with very finely shaved ice.  That's VERY FINELY shaved ice, people, not chopped or crushed ice.  Believe me, it makes all the difference in the world.  Soft and yielding, Shave Ice is a creamy confection of tropical (artificial?) flavorings punctuated with an optional helping of red azuki beans. Don't forget to go for the extra scoop of ice cream.  I swear, it's so good, you won't even notice the mess dripping on your shirt as the flimsy paper cone disintegrates with every icy lick of your tongue. 

Sticky and satiated, Surfer Dan and I looked at each other with smug satisfaction.  Nothing, and I mean nothing, beats a tropical vacation you didn't even pay for. 

Thank you, Travelworm.  I love this job.

Up Next: Wrapping Up