Hanging (ten) with the homies

Growing up in Los Angeles, it can be hard not to take things for granted. A January weekend with 75 degree sunshine is not too out of the ordinary. For someone who grew up far from the coast and without the kind of childhood that included family road trips, spending a Sunday surfing is a little more out of the ordinary. You don't usually see gang members wearing zinc and flippers.

Someone mentioned that a homegirl was interested in joining the surf trip, but that she was a little worried.

"Worried about wearing a bathing suit?"

"No, worried about... floating"

Having grown up in kidney pool-dotted west LA, I take floating for granted.

Thomas is a friend of Homeboy who had the brilliant idea to take some of our homies surfing-- getting outside somewhere that isn't mostly concrete is an experience that many of them didn't have much growing up, and is now quite alluring.


The first order of business for Robert, Mario and Andre was getting wetsuits on. Robert complained that he couldn't "sag" his pants, and Andre suddenly had an appreciation for the effort women put into wearing spandex. They all put them on backwards first.

As with any surf lesson, things started with a lot of immediate face-first plunging.

Eventually though, every participant stood up and caught a sweet ride.


It was a perfect glassy day and we ended with snacks and shell-collecting. The kind of Sunday you try not to take for granted.

"nothing stops a bullet like a job, or a wave"