Dec 30 2008
The Top 5 Reasons Why We Hate Winter in the OC
Ok, so I know that in my past few posts I have been enthusiastically extolling the virtues of a cold, wet winter; however, after a solid week and a half of torrential rainfall, poor surf, and bone-chilling, windshield-icing temperatures, I have come to a painful, if somewhat obvious realization: winter sucks. My hate list:
1. Flat days. When the air temps are in the 40’s and the water is a muscle-cramping, hypothermia-inducing 55 degrees, there is no such thing as a “fun, small day.” Imagine it–your feet are numb, you wish your throbbing head was numb, the offshore winds are shooting needle-sharp droplets of ice water into your wincing face, and you have nothing to do except sit there like a lonely, dejected ice cube because, well, mother nature decided to sleep in this morning. Welcome to my painful reality.
2. The sand dance. I know I included this favorite cold weather pasttime in my Top Ten Reasons Why We Love Winter in the OC, but chalk that up to a failed attempt at positive thinking. I think I’d rather walk on hot coals. Or lay on a bed of needles. Or quit surfing until they introduce Marty McFly-style hover board technology into surfboard design so I could glide right over the sand without the threat of pinky toe cramp.
3. Christmas break. When I was a young lad still stuck behind the cold, steel bars of the public education system, I used to dream of shackle-free, shack-filled Christmas vacations down at the local beach. Now that I’ve graduated, I’m beginning to see why all those old guys get so grumpy come December.
4. Cold water duckdives. Another repeat from my top ten favorites. Ice cream headaches! Ouch, no thanks!
5. That guy with the bucket of hot water in his trunk. You know the type–has all the latest, most expensive gear, probably even has a pair of nifty webbed gloves. Likes to start up his Mercedes Kompressor before he changes so that it’s toasty warm inside by the time he’s ready to hit the road and get to the office. And the bucket–oh, the bucket. So enticing, so full of steamy, cold-defeating goodness, yet so…kooky. This man with his expensive no-zip wetsuit and hot water bucket tempts us. His excessive warmth tempts us–tempts us to join his emasculated, latte-drinking ranks–and for that he incites our rage. No surfer has ever drawn so much scorn and simultaneously so much envy since Slater guest starred on Baywatch and started dating Pamela Anderson. My advice: don’t be that guy.
