I popped the fin back on my board and we surfed together for over an hour. By the end of that time Meek was doing great. I had also pretty much mastered that cheap rental board, although I seemed to wipe out about every third or fourth wave.
“So do you have any more points for me?” Meek asked as we both headed for our towels to dry off.
“Yeah, if you are serious about surfing, then I’d suggest you get your own board.” I said rather dogmatically.
He dried his hair with his towel as he asked, “Got any idea where?”
I thought for a moment before I said, “If you want, I know this guy back in California who would make you one and ship it to you. It won’t be cheap, but he’s a wizard when it comes to shaping boards. He’s the one that made mine.”
“Really? That would be choice!” Meek said excitedly.
He then asked, “You got an email address? I could write you and then you could email his contact info.”
“Contact info?” I thought to myself. Sheesh, he shifted from surfer to geek so fast I nearly got mental whiplash.
“Yeah, but can you remember my email?” I asked.
“Come with me to the changing room. I have something to write on with my clothes and things.” He said and then asked, “Want me to carry your board?”
“Nah, I got it.” I said heaving it under my arm and walking across the boardwalk with him.
As the two of us made our way to the changing room we continued talking.
“I have to confess something,” Meek said, “The way I knew you were you; I saw on your board there…” he pointed to the bottom of my board which had, in huge fancy blue and white letter that covered the entire bottom, ALVIN HOLLOWAY and running through the middle of my name in gold was, 2X Jr. Surfing Champion.
Meek cocked his head to one side as he said, “I still can’t believe that you are really THE Alvin Holloway.”
“That reminds me,” I started to say and I stopped to look around for the guy in the black Speedo.
I spotted him reclining in one of the deck chairs and watching the two of us intently. I waved at him and then motioned for him to come over. It looked like he nearly broke his leg trying to get out of that chair.
“HI!” he all but shouted, as he jogged up to us.
“Alvin, this here is Pepper. Pepper, this is…” Meek was saying but Pepper jumped in quickly.
“Oh my gosh! Are you really Alvin Holloway?” Pepper was almost drooling on me; that is how excited he was.
“You know me?” I asked.
“Are you kidding?!” Meek said for him, “He’s got all the famous surfers tacked up all over his bedroom walls and ceiling.”
“Huh?” I grunted.
Pepper was nervously twisting his towel. “I cut them out of magazines or print them off the Internet.”
