Tribute...to my boardshorts

A couple months into my surf mission, it was clear I needed an upgrade to my current wardrobe. I was wearing the same crappy pair of boardshorts that I had for like 5 years, which were slightly too big and starting to fall apart. Problem is, they are super expensive to buy down here. So when I returned to the US for a quick blowout in Vegas over Labor Day weekend, it was priority numero uno. Arriving a couple hours before the other guys, I hopped in a cab and headed straight to the outlets just north of the strip. Quicksilver, Hurley, Billabong, O'Neill - I quickly made the rounds. Nothing really jumped out at me, and by the time I made it to O'Neill I realized I needed to start heading back to meet the guys. I had found a decent pair, and they would have to do. But as I was walking up to the checkout I noticed a whole other rack I had not scoped out. I quickly half-ass sorted through when there they were - the sweetest looking boardshorts I had seen all day. They were so awesome. Please be my size, please be my size......YES! Tossing the others to the side, I walked directly to the counter. My mission was complete. Victory. Or as Borat would say, "Great success!" 

Upon returning to Nicaragua after a few weeks away from the surf, I was refocused. Ready to take the next step - and looking damn good while doing so I might add. After busting my ass for the first couple months, I felt like I earned that right. Entitled to the swag. I remeber throwing them on for the first time and thinking "alright dude, here we go - time to step it up." Haha. 

Obviously it wasn't the boardshorts that were motivating me - but more so the renewed commitment to the sport which they represented. That additional leverage. So day after day, we marched into the ocean, together. 

 

And I took my surfing to the next level.

Living on the beach for the last couple months, boardshorts are pretty much standard atire for all occasions and as such, I've pretty much lived in these things. Yet everytime I put them on, I felt focused, purposeful, like an athlete slipping into their uniform on gameday. It was a different mindset. Ready for action. Day after day. 

So yeah, as you can infer from all of this, I loved those freaking boardshorts. Which is why when I stepped out of my room this morning and noticed the empty space on the line where I had slung them up the previous night to dry, my heart broke a little bit. They were gone.

Beyond the practical aspect of having to go back to my old crappy pair, which is like going from this:

back to this:

was the sentimental value they had to me. We'd been through a lot of shit together and they never once let me down. They were made specifically for me and I wore them with pride. And someone had just nonchallantly strolled onto the property in the middle of the night and taken them. BASTARD. I've experienced my fair share of petty theft in my travels but this one really stung. And I understand were not supposed to become attached to our belongings and all that sort of fight club / eastern philosophy stuff, but it's hard not to feel a bit resentful when this sort of thing happens. I can deal with losing something, in fact I do it all the time, but its different when something is stolen - especially something special to you. It's an infringement, a violation. Just gross. 

But, life goes on. And the waves continue to break. So if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go dust off the old batsuit and kick some f**kin ass.