The Island Of Plenty

Matt Meola. Photo: Stafford/SPL

Now I’ve seen “surfed out” before, but this is getting extreme. Youthful athletes in the prime of their lives, and they can’t pull their faces out of their grouper sandwiches. Nearly naked, foreign beauties dangle themselves in front of the boys, only to be greeted with apathetic sighs. I’ve never seen so many swooning women in one location before—even the US Open in Huntington Beach has nothing on this place—and nobody is able to do a thing about it. Dunphy has the only justifiable excuse. His six-hour midday sessions have landed him a festering volcano blister on his lower lip, and to his credit, it’s gross. Dillon is on the verge of heatstroke, nauseous and shivering in the sun. I have a bug bite mosaic running up the length of my legs. One of the hottest girls to ever approach me was really concerned. “Oh, no. You have allergies?” Minus one for me too, I guess. Matt is the only one powering through, and his eyes are on the prize—the last one of our group with a pulse still running through his body. Now, it takes guts to plant oneself into that scenario minus a wingman, but surely the one who scrapes into 50-footers at Jaws and survives two-wave hold-downs can man up, right? He approaches a cute brunette. “Hola… Uh…”

He’s met with nothing—just an awkward silence and soft giggles. What confidence he had left was ripped from his little frame, leaving him right back with us inside the bungalow, pondering the “what ifs.”

I couldn’t have dreamt up a more perfect scenario for a surf trip. Anyone would consider it a score when you package warm water and friendly barrels on the same trip. And then you add boatloads of exotic females to the cocktail? The combination is more rare than getting upgraded to first class and put next to Alessandra Ambrosio on a 14-hour flight to Paris. It took me a couple weeks after we got home to come to grips with the fact that my vicarious sex hunters couldn’t leave me with any tales for my cubicle-driven daydreams. But it’s true what they say, kids: sex isn’t everything. And whittling through the footage back in the office, it’s evident that we scored—another successful one in the books. I tend to forget that even for the surfers, this is work. The boys actually had their priorities straight the entire trip—and I’m no longer disappointed on their non-existent extracurricular performance because the mind is a powerful thing. I can go back to that beach and all those sunbathing beauties anytime I choose. All it takes is pondering my morning coffee order at Starbucks—latte, mocha, Americano…

For more from this trip, visit the Tropically Yours website. Tropically Yours, the 2013 TransWorld SURF movie, premieres Thursday, July 25th at the Lido Theater in Newport Beach, CA during the US Open Of Surfing. Stay tuned to, as well as our Facebook and Instagram for more information.

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