We were blessed with shoulder high waves on Tybee Island a few months ago during a summer storm. You can't really hope for more than that out here without it getting as mushy as a washing machine, so us surfers were all pretty stoked when it went up to 4 foot.
Like any other swell, the first day was great and had a low number of surfers around in the water since there wasn't enough time for the word to spread yet. But then everyone heard by the second day so the water was packed that Sunday, even though the conditions were rough with rain, thunder and lightning.
After 2 hours of fun but crowded surf in the rain, we could see the lifeguards fan out along the beach and begin an evacuation. From the water, we all heard high-pitched whistles blaring behind us on the shore. At first it just looked like they were clearing out the remaining people still occupying the beach. After a moment though, the whistling kept going and consistently getting louder. We all figured–the few of us who stayed in the water even after noticing lightning–that since we have surfed in worse conditions, the lifeguards couldn't be blowing their obnoxious whistles at us.
Wrong!
Once the last eight of us sat on our boards ignoring their whistles while insisting: "I'll just catch one more good ride into shore, then call it a day," the chain of lifeguards started to come out after us into the water.
5 of us were fortunate enough to make it back into shore before confronted by the approaching lifeguards. My friend Ethan–whom I ran into out in the water–and I, both pretended we couldn't hear the pissed off lifeguard approaching only a few feet behind us who was orally abusing his whistle, while insisting we get out of the water. Finally, the wave we were waiting for came and the two of us paddled into it then rode off in opposite directions on either side of the lifeguard who had finally reached us. I made it back to shore having to cut my ride short in order to split the chain of lifeguards. Eventually the cops came, and the last 3 surfers to get out of the water were put in cuffs.
Each of them were told that they were going to jail for disorderly conduct for disobeying the lifeguards. The lifeguards, police, arrested surfers, and dudes to drunk to leave the beach all congregated under the pier.
Upon reaching the car I realized my boy, Grinch, was nowhere to be seen. As I approached the pier through the squalls of rain overhead, I caught eyes with Grinch as I stepped under the cover from the pier. He flashed his handcuffs from behind his back as soon as he caught eyes with me.
After the cops had everybody convinced the 3 detained were going into a cell, they let the arrested go with tickets instead. It was a relief to say the least.
As Grinch and I walked out through the rain we heard a cop ask another officer: "So, we got the three we needed?"
At least they met quota, right?
Like any other swell, the first day was great and had a low number of surfers around in the water since there wasn't enough time for the word to spread yet. But then everyone heard by the second day so the water was packed that Sunday, even though the conditions were rough with rain, thunder and lightning.
After 2 hours of fun but crowded surf in the rain, we could see the lifeguards fan out along the beach and begin an evacuation. From the water, we all heard high-pitched whistles blaring behind us on the shore. At first it just looked like they were clearing out the remaining people still occupying the beach. After a moment though, the whistling kept going and consistently getting louder. We all figured–the few of us who stayed in the water even after noticing lightning–that since we have surfed in worse conditions, the lifeguards couldn't be blowing their obnoxious whistles at us.
Wrong!
Once the last eight of us sat on our boards ignoring their whistles while insisting: "I'll just catch one more good ride into shore, then call it a day," the chain of lifeguards started to come out after us into the water.
5 of us were fortunate enough to make it back into shore before confronted by the approaching lifeguards. My friend Ethan–whom I ran into out in the water–and I, both pretended we couldn't hear the pissed off lifeguard approaching only a few feet behind us who was orally abusing his whistle, while insisting we get out of the water. Finally, the wave we were waiting for came and the two of us paddled into it then rode off in opposite directions on either side of the lifeguard who had finally reached us. I made it back to shore having to cut my ride short in order to split the chain of lifeguards. Eventually the cops came, and the last 3 surfers to get out of the water were put in cuffs.
Each of them were told that they were going to jail for disorderly conduct for disobeying the lifeguards. The lifeguards, police, arrested surfers, and dudes to drunk to leave the beach all congregated under the pier.
Upon reaching the car I realized my boy, Grinch, was nowhere to be seen. As I approached the pier through the squalls of rain overhead, I caught eyes with Grinch as I stepped under the cover from the pier. He flashed his handcuffs from behind his back as soon as he caught eyes with me.
After the cops had everybody convinced the 3 detained were going into a cell, they let the arrested go with tickets instead. It was a relief to say the least.
As Grinch and I walked out through the rain we heard a cop ask another officer: "So, we got the three we needed?"
At least they met quota, right?
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