Men's Second Style

Supposedly, the sport of surfing has Polynesian roots — where chiefs of certain tribes were the members of the tribe who were best at riding the waves on wooden boards. In Hawaii, surfing was a art that was tied into religion. What we know as surfing today only came about in the last 100 years, spread from Hawaii by Olympian and actor Duke Kahanamoku. Surfing is considered a sport by some and a lifestyle by others, with some surfers devoting a large part of their life to “finding the perfect wave” and furthering sport for those around them. Even Second Life has a large and thriving surf community, with organizations such as the SLSA and others documented on Surf Watch.

Unfortunately, being an outdoor sport, surfing is a little rough for vampires. In Cold Blood blogger Winter Jefferson stepped up to the task and even de-fanged himself to hit the beach and catch a few waves.

Express Zenovka – Prof. Ex does Hawaii

I finally had it with those students. Every term, every year, starting off brighteyed and bushy tailed ready to learn and leaving jaded and full of spite. So I alerted the administration that I wanted a sabbatical in Hawaii and they gave me a one way ticket there. I asked for a few more so I could take the better looking grad students with and they handed me a pink slip.

I used my severance pay to buy myself a surfboard and board shorts. All the kids these days use these new-fangled “shortboards” and my clothes from when I surfed didn’t fit me anymore. Nobody even remembers when surfboards were made out of real wood. The first few days on the waves were rough, I sunburned my head and could barely stand up on the water. People pointed and laughed at the old man trying to surf.

Luckily though, it was like riding a bike. Once I got the hang of balancing it all came back. So did my hair. The old boards were all about gliding and being one with the wave since they couldn’t turn very easily. These new boards make it so much easier to carve up the waves and my old “hang-ten” trick just wasn’t good enough anymore. I learned to grab air and spin, and picking up fans and ladies in the process. Stuff really started happening when I won a local tournament. Made the over of Geriatric Weekly, two days after that win.

A suave business man approached me a few days later, saying this clothing company wanted a new face to launch their next campaign and win back older consumers. I didn’t really listen to much else, but he promise beaches and hot models. Seemed worth it to me. Turns out it was a six-figure endorsement deal, which I turned around to buy a small house and surf shack overlooking the beach. Surfing most days and modeling every few weeks, I don’t know why I ever left the beach for school in the first place.

In the end though, the best part is just being one with waves, sitting on your board and feeling the ocean rock you back and forth. The money, the fame, those come and go. Nothing beats laying back on your board, listening to the ocean and feeling the waves lull you to sleep. You should try it sometime.

Winter Jefferson – The Loneliest Surfer

You may have seen me standing on the shore gazing out to sea – probably not though.. I keep to myself. I’m old. You could almost say ancient, really. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve surfed every wave there is, but then I watch a perfect A-frame just cresting out on the horizon and I realise again and again – every wave is a new one. They may form off the same coast, and I may have felt these grains of sand between my toes in the past. But I’ve never had this particular curve of water above my head, never whooped my way out of the barrel and gotten dumped laughing like a loon from this one. It reminds me why I still do this, still return to this place – even after all these years.

I’m a traveller. My life is an endless journey. I can’t ever see myself ever being able to settle down, and allowing myself to love and be loved. To belong. I find my comfort in the endless ride, the glide of my deck running like a liquid miracle over the strange and beautiful interaction of moon and water. My board is my only constant companion, my solace and the closest thing I have to a home. It clings to my feet like we share an intangible magnetic connection, and it’s never far from me – I need to have it close.

The surfer’s credo seems to be – “You should have been here yesterday!” but I’ve had all the yesterdays I’ll ever want and they pale compared to this. This moment in time. The weight of a thousand screaming tonnes of water surrounding me, the potential and the danger sending the adrenaline pulsing out to my very fingertips, every cell shouting in joy that YES, I’m alive! Giving myself up to the mercy of the tides and working with them is all I’ll ever need, I’m not here for an afterlife. I can’t make any other kinds of connections here as I’ll be called soon. I’m not like everyone else. I do what I can to blend in but I can’t keep it up for long. Every shore has it’s own lingo and you are soon exposed as different. And with that comes suspicion, fear and then violence.

I always know when it’s time to move on. Other waters are calling me, and my entire reason for existence is to discover. So I turn with a sigh of regret from this alien shore, and make a silent promise that once more I’ll return to immerse myself in the beauty of your tides. I gather up my board, slip out of my disguise of humanity and find my rightful place back amongst the ethereal waves that flow between the stars.

P.S. Yes, I know, I know. But I had to de-fang to do this challenge justice, and honestly – to stand even the slightest chance against mine honourable puppy-kicking, grandma-handbag-snatching, bicycle-seat-sniffing opponent Express. One of my defining opinions of Second Life is that it’s there to allow us to step outside of our everyday normal, whatever that may be. So I’m devolving for this challenge. However, feel free to post aggrieved comments about how I’ve traded my integrity and sold myself out. Just be aware that I’ll be marking you on spelling, syntax, originality and creative use of cusswords.

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