Is It Ever Ok To Boogie Board?

Don’t tell anyone. Seriously, I haven’t even told my parents yet. I’ve been boogie boarding. Not just once or twice. I’ve been getting my oddly hairy tummy rashed up almost everyday. With my friends, by myself. Mornings. Afternoons. Evenings. Sometimes I even go for two sessions in one day. I can’t stop. My buddy Coco and I invested our $26.99 at the local drug store, and haven’t looked back since.

I could give endless excuses. North Florida’s flat summer. The fact that waves triple in size when you’re laying down. The terrible sandbar out front. All of these could bail me out of my despicable actions. I could beg for the respect of hardcore sarfers, but I have no shame for what I have been doing. 

Booging is fun. Like unmistakably fun. Dropping in late, packing closeouts, not having to worry about getting clocked in the head by pointy fiberglass. It’s waist high anyway, I’d rather boog then force a graceless turn in a two-foot section. I’m not ready to sell the quiver just yet, but damn is it refreshing to take a break. Sure we can smile and say we surf for fun, but for most of us, progression is enticing. Surfing’s slow learning curve taunts us with the resemblance of a rodeo clown. We all want to become better surfers. For our ego, for the girl we’re trying to impress, for our unrelenting and unreachable QS dreams. 

Tip from an idiot: take a step down. Tuck your lil clackers between your legs. Go drag em in your local shore break. With something simple like boogie boarding, it’s hard to get frustrated. It’s too silly. It gets you back to the roots. Pure love for riding waves. 

Not to mention, it’s helpful. Builds wave IQ. The best surfers are smart. Like really fucking smart. It’s what makes them so good. Look at their eyes. They’re way down the line, reading the wave, and reacting accordingly. Swell starved dummies like me might benefit from a “theoretical” head high wave. Should I sit high in the pocket? Should I swing my bottom turn out wide and shed some speed? A lower perspective turns an unsurfable break into a Ted Talk, if you’re willing to swallow your pride and leave the groveler at home.

The whole “Boogie boarding is for kooks” stigma is absurd. Let the testosterone-filled super locals chirp at you for dick dragging. Who fucking cares? Be courteous, drag hard, and pack some heavy ones. Anyone willing to vocalize their complaints about your wave riding vessel is a certified mouth-breather. Your local hard ass definitely wouldn’t bother Chippa, Creed, or any of those nutty cunce at Drag Board Co.

So go ahead. Tell them. Tell my parents. Tell all my friends. I boog. I boog hard. I boog fast. These clackers we’re made for dragging.