The first summer swells are rolling in and, as usual, the mind-boggling crowds are swooping into the Suis lineup, jockeying for position. This year, however, something’s changed.
It’s as if we’ve rediscovered we are not alone, that this limited area where the waves break is a resource we have to share, taking our turns, just as we used to at the playground swings.
Last month, “In the Lineup” reported some unpleasant confrontations involving a gang of groms who harassed my friend Grace, paddling around her and another surfer and chanting at them to go in.
A couple of weeks later, as we paddled out to Suis, Grace announced she’d met the father of two of the groms when he came out surfing with them.
“He said he’s been talking to his boys about the importance of being respectful, and they better not be engaging in the bad behavior he’s been hearing about, or no more hamburgers at the snack bar!”
Perhaps that explained the relative tranquility of Suis the other evening: The gang of boys was out, but they sat apart and shoreward of the rest of us, picking off inside waves in time-honored grom tradition.
Another dad hailed me Sunday as I walked down to the sea wall.
“Hey, things are getting so much better,” he said with a wide, sunny smile. “My son was being bullied out at Suis and it’s stopped. Parents have been talking.”
Self-awareness has brought some peace and quiet. The kids aren’t constantly piping, “Did you see my barrel? I nailed it! Did you see my air-reverse?”
Now I can actually hear the different voices of the winds gusting high and low, the crunch of waves, the hiss of foam.
And the youngsters have stopped punctuating every statement with the “f-word.”
“No profanity!” I heard one grom scold another.
If only the adults would follow suit.
The other evening, I was verbally assaulted by a stranger to Suis whom I dropped in on by accident.
I was going right and thought he was going left, which is the preferred direction at Suis. Then I heard him shout behind me and, startled, I tried to kick out but fell off my board. Idiot, I told myself. Klutz.
As we came up from the whitewater, grabbing our boards — no harm done — I immediately and sincerely apologized, but he went off at me, snarling a string of f-words.
Trembling with shock and anger, I watched as he paddled back out to the lineup, noting his spiky gelled hair and the colorful bands wrapping the arms of his sleek, Euro-cut wet suit.
I waited until I was calmer and then I paddled toward him.
“Hey,” I said. He pretended not to hear.
“I’m talking to you, colorful wet suit guy.”
He glared at me from beneath lowered brows.
“Don’t you ever use the f-word at me again.”
“You dropped in on me and fell off!” he cried, trying to shame me in front of the crowd, but they ignored him.
“I apologized. So just zip it up, Buster.”
For a moment he looked apoplectic, and I braced myself for another onslaught. Then he turned and paddled away.
“Whoa, that’s telling him,” said Grace. “Buster?”
We broke into laughter.
The other morning, Suis was overrun. I couldn’t get a wave to myself, but I had to go in for an appointment.
So I went for an innocuous inside wave even though two of my neighbors, an 8-year-old and his 12-year-old pal, were going for it. As I took off, I hoped they’d let me have it, but no. The younger boy, wide-eyed, came flying down at me with his friend, whom he’d dropped in on, swooping up behind him.
Trying to get out of their way, I helpfully did a face plant in front of them instead. When I came up, shame-faced, the older boy was waiting for me.
“Are you all right?” he asked with kindly concern.
Welcome to peak season on the South Shore of Oahu, where, despite the stresses of overpopulation, a civil community seems to be taking shape in one surf spot, at least.
“In the Lineup” features Hawaii’s oceangoers and their regular hangouts, from the beach to the deep blue sea. Reach Mindy Pennybacker at mpennybacker@staradvertiser.com or call 529-4772.
