toe to toe

The inlaws live in a beautiful part of the world. Whilst the surf can get world class at times it is mostly just fun, and uncrowded. Which is more than fine. In factsome locations are so uncrowded that it is like surfing in a different era. One spot i call 1972 due to the fact that it reminds me of a scene from morning of the earth. Crystal clear zippering walls with barely a soul out- generally one or two others. This coupled with the verdant tree lined headland and sand bottom makes it a pleasure to surf , as opposed as it is to the unforgiving desert and limestone/ coral reefs i'm used to.
But i had never visited during the holiday season...till now. This tranquil lineup had transformed to a seething mass of humanity. All manner of craft coating the formerly pristine line up. As this spot has somehow slipped the radar of the herd, the crew consisted mostly of dads and kids and the less than commited crew. And the line up worked. Somehow it was fun and egalitarian and everyone got a slice of the pie.
Whilst not exactly morning of the earth anymore the vibe was great. I surfed for six hours straight,like a grom. Ball rash from so many run arounds, nipples like i had taken a cheese grater to them. Even toked on a joint at around the three hour mark that a couple of crew were burning on the jump off rock. Life was good.
Then i noticed a new face in the lineup, with a couple of cronies in tow , talking in an exaggerated volume and jostling the take off spot. With a sweep running down the point and a jump rock granting access to pole position, Loud Mouth was berating anyone entering the lineup, loudly proclaiming how snakes jumping staight to the take off position would not be tolerated and how they would be dealt with. The accused being mainly mid teen lidders. The good feeling permeating the lineup rapidly evaporated , but who gives a fuck ? I was surfed out and ready for one to shore. Just make it a good one eh ? No hurry, the walk up the beach was gonna make my thighs bleed anyway.
So i waited in pole position, a few meagre sets passed before my wave came. I started
to paddle noticing Loud Mouth paddling furiously from his recent entry off the jump rock declaring possesion. Whatever fuckstick, i'm going. So i went. Loud Mouth went too, i faded and Loud Mouth and myself went over the falls as one.
He came up swearing blue murder.
"You dinged me board! on the beach cunt" he said. First time i'd ever heard it in real life. Still did not really give a fuck. Surfed with many tools over many surfs and knew a blow hard when i heard one. Caught the next whitewash, my session was corrupted and i was spent anyway.
Loud Mouth caught it too and a weird tension was between us as we exited the water, metres apart. I could plainly see the bitter contempt and rage on his face, but i could also see doubt as i had inadvertently called his bluff by coming in even though it was not for his benefit. We walked up the beach a few steps before he addressed me as the cunt that ruined his surf. I told him where he stood in my eyes
What happened next seemed to occur in the blink of an eye. He dropped his board on the sand and so, it seems, did i. I was expecting more front , instead Loud Mouth punched me fair in the face.
Let's get this straight. I'm no fighter. I have not been in a sober fight since primary school, and the pissed scuffles were just that, scuffles. But i do like to stay fit. And a favoured way of fitness for me is hitting a heavy punching bag, the height and range of which was exactly the same as this pricks face. I wore the punch and before even i knew what had happened my right fist shot out and connected with Loud Mouth's mouth.
It was only a jab but the cocksucker reeled,backed off and took stock. This was not part of his plan. I was as suprised as he was. I know i'm not a coward but i had never fronted another man face to face and this was new territory. I still wasn't angry, hours of surfing and exertion had mellowed me and given me a bit of distance from the pain and affront of being physicaly assaulted.
So we stood there for a period , wordless. Loud Mouth seemed hesitant, his bitterness satisfied after spreading his hate so obviously and his two dimensional bullying bravery vanishing after his chosen victim did not roll over pleading mercy.
For a further few seconds relative normality remained. Without agreement we both took a step back and picked up our surfboards. In retrospect i see this as a point of reflection for us both, the slandering continued, by now he had assumed the role of unapologetic local valouriously facing down the invasion of neophyte blow in invaders, i was still processing just what had happened, from mellow and happy to dragged into a whirlpool of bitterness and spite. For seemingly the first time since reaching the beach i realised what was happening. I looked around at the at the beach that i was so accustomed to being empty and saw the holiday crowds, the families formerly enjoying a festive summer day staring in open mouth shock at what was happening before their eyes.
That was when the madness set in. I looked at the blue sky and the white sand and realty, or unreality, set in. I started to blather, i could not tell you for certain what i was saying but it was lost mans dribble refering to the beautiful day and how this cunt had destroyed it with malicious intent. He started to walk along the beach cursing me over his shoulder, i think he saw in me something that i was not consciously aware of myself and his desire for confrontation was gone.
We walked in lock step along the beach as though to jump back off the point, myself slightly behind, fermenting, when we reached his friends. His bravado reappeared, turning to face me he addressed his friends, a half dozen guys and girls staked out against the wire guarding the dunes, he described my crimes as a blowin, an unwelcome abhorration, i saw the girls sneer as i raved about being from somewhere else, somewhere where people are judged on their merits in the surf. I recollect displeasure on their faces when they realised i wasn't from a city with inferior waves to theirs.
Then the red mist came over me
It was the assumed resentment of the women that really got me.
The smug superiority of some small minded no- one cunt moll that set me off. I turned to face Loud Mouth in front of his cunting piece of shit friends and with every ounce of will ,energy and misdirected anger from every point of my life i drove my fist into that cunt's putrid face and punched him to the sand.
I was standing over Loud Mouth's form bellowing that he was an imposter king presiding over a weak, gay wave, raising my fist for another blow when i realised my hand was broken . Then i heard a lady screaming and i was back in my head, concious of what i'd done , aware of where i was.
Loud Mouth was not cowering , but all fight had left the man. He was submissive but i was not gracious. Thank fuck i did not have a gun cause if i did i would have shot the cunt. The only thing that stopped me from kicking him till he twitched was some chick throwing herself over his prostrate form.
I looked up to see four hundred sets of eyes willing me in gaol. I walked towards the path that led to the carpark, unrepentent, as i approached my car a smiling mother said to her young son "look at that mans face honey! " , i stared at her and tried to fathom what type of person would be so insensitive to anothers situation.Then i told her to "shut the fuck up , mole," and walked to my car.
Looking in my cars rear view mirror i saw that Loud Mouth's initial punch had broken my nose. I straightened it suprisingly easily and drove one handed to the hospital where the nurses shook their heads with scepticism and unabashed disgust as i lied to their faces and told them i had broken my hand and nose in a wipeout.
I can't say i moved on and put this bullshit behind me so easily. The fact that i'm still talking about it now reveals the truth.
In fact i went into a fair spiral of hatred towards my fellow man and society in general following this little episode. I pretty much bailed on humanity till the holidays ended. Then i would cruise the short streets of 1972 with my fish killing baton at hand only half deluding myself that i was'nt looking for Loud Mouth, the man that pretty much single handedly robbed me of my love of the human race.
Of course i got over it. But it took me a whole lap of this awesome land to come to grips with the act of a single fuckwit. And that was a few years ago.
The lesson i've learnt ? Don't humour some clown that wants to bring you down to their bitter level or, as a wise fella has told me since- Never get into a mud slinging match with a pig cause you both end up covered in shit- only the pig likes it.