I'm really glad I'm going to be out of town this weekend, because I could see the sets start rolling in this morning and it wasn't pretty -- but it looked FUN. If I'd done what I wanted to do this morning and taken out my 9'0" thruster, I'd probably have taken my share of suicide drops. But no, I kept to my commitment to ride the short(er)board until I learned how to ride it -- which I haven't done yet, so I hesitated on waves that the adrenaline junkie in me would have paddled for.
At 7am, there were some shoulders and I managed to hit the lip going backside -- ugly, but I did it. By 8am, I was shivering in my springsuit because wave after wave was big and unrideable. Gloved Guy was taking some insane drops and, from over one close-out, I could hear him hollering all the way down. When he paddled back out, I laughed at him.
"We could hear you yelling, 'Whooooo!' on your entire ride. That's a good thing because then we know you're okay!"
I'm glad I'm not going to be here this weekend. I'd be tempted to be a part of the carnage. Weekend warriors and crowded point breaks. Good times. I'll be thinking of y'all while I have lobster rolls on the Cape and chomp on a hot dog at Fenway.