Photo Above: We'll leave out names here. Happening way more frequently than we would like, this drop in was an accident and was followed by profuse apologies and an abundance of forgiveness...but it didn't make it not happen, nor make it okay.

I like stirring shit up! While one angel whispers in my ear "be nice, don't burn any bridges!", the other angel is saying something a little different. I'm getting to the age where I agree more with one than the other. There is a reason they call us "Grumpy Old Men"... the other day I called a guy out on his wave hogging, snowballing and dropping in. This guy could have been from any place where surf etiquette isn't a foregone conclusion and those who are considerate of others are thought of as less than a man, but this guy happened to be Brazilian, go figure. Most of my Brazilian friends would rather not surf with Brazilians, which I find hilarious in its irony. After having words with him, I was informed by this violation of all that is sacrosanct, repeatedly and in no uncertain terms, "I don't give a fuck!"

Surfers live in a nebulous world where peace, love, communing with nature and finding a meditative medium by participating in our sport is too frequently ground out like a dirty cigarette butt by a fellow surfer who, for lack of a better term, doesn't give a fuck. As far as I'm concerned, the world doesn't have room for people that don't give a fuck, so certainly the lineup doesn't either.

My dilemma is this, I can always find a wave in the lineup. Back paddle me, drop in on me, snowball away...I'm gonna get a wave and even when I'm wronged I will almost never say anything. My victory is in my humility. However when "Mr. I don't give a fuck" does this to one of my guests, I give a fuck.

Too many of my guests spend the majority of their lives working to pay the bills, to keep their daughters off the pole, to keep their wife off prozac, and to keep themselves off the proverbial ledge. Their vacation time is hard earned, surf trip time...even more so. So when you paddle out on that first session on the first day of your hard earned week of paradise, peaking with excitement, literally pissing yourself with a surf froth that makes you feel like you're 13 again and "Mr. I don't give a fuck" decides that it's more important for him to get a second (or third or fourth) wave before you get your first, that guy is wrong in any language. That guy is scum. That guy should do the world a favor and just stop breathing. Apparently someone has to teach him that and I'm willing to give it a try since his mother obviously failed.

The common idea when marketing a surf camp is to sell the image that it's all rainbows and unicorns, bubble wrap reefs, nerf rocks and just you and your two best friends in the lineup...sprinkle on some mermaids just for fun. Sorry to burst your bubble wrap...it's not that good, almost, but not quite. Unfortunately "Mr. I don't give a fuck" often shows up and we know he would snake a wave from his own mother, so I'm pretty sure he's not going to see you coming down the line about to pull into what was going to be the wave of the winter for you. He doesn't give a fuck after all and I think we've established that it's probably his mother's fault.

That's why I'm not afraid to stir shit up in the water. Somebody needs to make him aware of his mother's failure to instill in him a sense of courtesy for his fellow humans. I'm not afraid to raise tensions in the water... I don't want "Mr. I don't give a fuck" to think everyone else doesn't either. In fact I like the tense vibe, it reminds me of younger years when I was a wide eyed San Diego transplant thrust into the Santa Cruz surf lineups, cutting my teeth among the locals.

I'm almost proud to say I've been punched in the head by Vince Collier. Back then I had the honor of being called "Dirt" and getting chased out of Stockton Ave. by Flea Virostko, Josh Loya, Adam Repogle, Anthony Ruffo, Barney, Kenny Collins, Peter Mel and some others...yeah...Peter Mel wasn't always the gregarious announcer with a toothy smile that we see on the webcasts these days. I once scrapped with Flea when I was about 19, almost 30 years ago?! It wasn't over waves, I caught him trying to steal our keg from a house party we were having, he had to fight his way out. I can tell you none of those aforementioned guys was afraid to stir shit up, except maybe Adam Repogle, he would burn you in a heartbeat though. Tension in the lineup was normal though. When I heard fights and static in the lineup it meant the waves were good, it meant I was the wrong person in the right place.

I learned from the West Side Boys the minutiae of surf etiquette. It was like learning the tough love version of Aloha. I learned not to even bother trying to drop in at the slot, I was lucky to be able to jump off the point and paddle past. I was taught not to even look at Stockton when driving by. I learned what the "stink eye" was. I learned hard what it was to be faded into the pit at "White Shark Reef". I learned that every opportunity to catch a wave in their lineup was an opportunity not to be squandered. I learned it was their lineup. I was barely tolerated at some of the lonely spots up North. In town I was allowed to surf the lefts off Middle Peak when it was working, but not if it was epic. I knew to never go surfing with more than one other friend...and that even one friend could be pushing it depending on the friend and the spot. I learned not to back paddle, because that was their right. I learned to wait my turn...because I didn't have any other choice. Mostly though, I learned how to make the most of the scraps they left me. When they saw me having fun with it...they tolerated me a little more. I learned to give a fuck wether my surfing was in line with the rules, because if i didn't...well, they might run me out of the water.

Thinking about it now, I wish I could send that "Mr. I don't give a fuck" to surf with the Santa Cruz Westside crew from back in the day. If VC was alive he'd beat some "give a fuck" into him, I saw him do it more than once. If Barney was still breathing he'd boost a "decade ahead of its time" air right over the top of "Mr. I don't give a fuck". One way or another he would learn to give a fuck and the world needs people who give a fuck.

I may not be the best teacher, but I care and that's a lot more than I can say for "Mr. I don't give a fuck" . He should be ashamed of himself, his mother should be ashamed. Just taking the high road here, I hope his daughter winds up dancing on the pole and I certainly hope his wife gets the prozac she needs to deal with his selfish ass. (Mic. drop)