Covert Jr. Editor Virtually Slips Through The Heavily Guarded Gates Of Olympic Surfing

I’m a bit of a rascal.

I like mischief in all of its shapes and sizes, and I absolutely live for being a wise ass.

So, now that I’ve told you about myself, lets dig into my most recent ruse:

Last week I caught wind of a zoom conference open to the public ($30 a box), which promised a tour of the venue where surfing would make its Olympic debut.  The event had limited spots and was hosted by actions sports guy Chris Cote, plus an official ISA judge.  

My diabolical wheels began turning immediately, and my silly plan to purchase one ticket quickly evolved into a devious act of purchasing all nine that were left. I planned on giving these passes to some high-flying colleagues of mine, so we could invade the event and promote our own aerial agenda.

However, my air-tight blueprints fell apart rather quickly after I misread the email regarding the time change and mistakingly called off on my reinforcements. Receiving an alert just 30 minutes before the event, I scrambled to my mission solo. I assembled an arsenal of chaos, which oddly enough included a set of clapper hands, a recorder, and an electric razor. Also whiskey, there was a decent amount of that involved in this production.

To my hosts, Chris Cote and ISA judge Tory, you were both wonderful and definitely did not deserve the headache I may have caused. As for the others that purchased tickets to the event, I’m sorry for eating chips directly into the mic. Very not cool of me.

Also, Chris, I don’t expect you to refund the eight tickets that I didn’t get to use, but like, it would be super rad if you did. Look how tiny my apartment is; you’d be doing me a solid. And again, sorry.

Watch here before this inevitably gets taken down. Viva la mustard.