The last few days, while hopping around New York City, I found myself acknowledging a few things:

-You can be immersed in the depths of a concrete jungle, and you’re still bound to randomly run into a few surfers (ie: party in the fourteenth floor of a building last night). We are a ubiquitous bunch.

-Even non-surfing New Yorkers would be good at shooting the pier, seeing how they bob deftly through moving traffic (I almost got flattened earlier today, of course).

-Put aside the obvious deterrent of submerging into 40 degree water in 30 degree windchill, there’s another challenge to making dawn patrols: routinely sitting down for dinner at midnight and going to bed at dawn.

-If you have a surfboard with you on the subway, you’re immediately cool. If you have one during winter, you’re immediately crazy.

-How many people will be walking around the city streets in wetsuits for Halloween tomorrow night? More than one, I’d wager.

-You think Cardiff Reef is overrun by SUP’ers? Check out the East River. (I hear there’s a big rivalry with the both kayakers and mobsters doling out cement shoes.)

For a minute, forget about the elevated risk of encountering sharks when surfing at dusk. There’s another wild animal you’re more likely to encounter on land during that period.

If you live in San Diego, there’s a good chance your neighbors are skunks. And I don’t mean that in a symbolic or metaphorical way.

“The striped and spotted skunks are common in San Diego County’s rural and urban areas; the striped skunk is larger and more common than the spotted skunk. Although their markings vary, these bushy- tailed creatures are always black and white and absolutely unmistakable.” (projectwildlife.com)

I’ve noticed skunks around my neighborhood for a while. It’s a rural spot in Leucadia, so there’s a lot of wildlife, which is nice. But there is one skunk in particular (very distinct stripe) I’ve seen patrolling the perimeter of the property frequently. I’ve joked about him for a while. I almost collided with him while riding my bike once before. So I guess it was only a matter of time.

Last night, hopping off my bike just after dark, I came through the gate that leads to my door, and heard rustling very close. I figured it was a lizard or something small. But I quickly realized it was bigger. And then saw the white stripe. I’ll tell you what, it was a real big boy, this skunk. A healthy skunk.

It’s safe to say we both were very scared of each other at that moment. It reminded me of a line Samuel L. Jackson (Jules Winfield) says in Pulp Fiction, “You know what happens when mutherf@ckers get scared, Ringo? When mutherf@ckers get scared, mutherf@ckers get shot.”

I was frozen, and oddly, without thinking, I spoke to the skunk: “Oh-ah, easy buddy, easy buddy, easy buddy.”

Then I realized I was talking to a skunk, who was recoiled in a dark corner two feet away, pointing it’s ass at me. So I snapped out of it and started running toward my porch. As I did, I heard a sound kind of like a someone blowing through a peashooter.

At first, I thought I’d escaped unscathed. But when I reached my porch about 20 yards away, I realized one of the most noxious and pungent odors I’ve ever encountered was following me. Actually, it was right on top of me. My fears/ jokes about skunk encounters suddenly became a harsh reality… But c’mon, what’s a Tuesday night without being sprayed by a skunk, stripping naked on your porch, putting your clothes in a trash bag, and preparing to burn them. Damned if I know.

Luckily, it get didn’t spray me directly on skin. I can’t tell whether it got my clothes, or bike, or just bombed the area and it engulfed me. Or maybe I’m just desensitized to the odor. Come to think of it, I’ve been getting a few funny looks around the office today.

Anyway, in conclusion, the experience made me contemplate a couple things.

First, besides ruining the days of other animals and humans, what purpose do they serve? I’m glad I researched this, before taking up skunk hunting.

“Skunks are excellent at rodent and insect control and their diet includes black widow spiders and scorpions. Being carrion eaters, they help keep roadways and neighborhoods clean. With their slow, waddling gait and bushy tail, these gentle mammals are delightful to see from a distance, and play an important role in keeping nature in balance - the natural way.” (fundwildlife.org)

And my second question, how many other people have had a direct interaction/ altercation with a skunk? Not many, it turns out.

“I’ve got plenty of skunks in my yard,” said my brother. “However, unlike you, I’ve managed to stay clear of them.”

“No bro?I chased one once but never got sprayed,” said Jon C.

“Not yet,” said my friend Hew.

“I guess my only way to comment on this is to ask the following,” waxed Dave. “If you were a skunk, would you spray you? I thought so.”

So although data is limited and inconclusive, I guess that makes the odds of getting sprayed by a skunk kind of like being bit by a shark. You’re probably more likely to be struck by lightning.

Regardless, while a skunk’s threat isn’t as grave as a shark’s, the memory of the interaction will linger (literally) for quite some time.

After I finished my last post regarding Slater’s will to win, and the way he’s viewed by competitors and fans, I remembered another somewhat related (albeit abstract) interesting story from Lowers. A good friend of mine Dave was in the parking lot the day before. He happened to be in the parking lot car as Kelly was leaving. Enter into the equation: a guy (we’re still not sure who it was, feel free to identify yourself) came flying by on a skateboard, with boards tucked under both arms.

Dave says he felt a static in the air, as if something strange was about to go down.

The freight training skateboarder rounded the corner and met eyes with Slater, who’d just pulled out of his parking spot. And like a deer in headlights, he became unraveled. What followed was a horrendous ass-over-tea kettle, asphlaut kissing, pig pen rolling wipeout, that landed the poor bloke mere inches from Slater’s bumper. Bloodied, scuffed, and disheveled, he looked up.

Slater: “Um, are you alright?”

Unknown guy: “I’d rather fall in front of you in the parking lot than in the water.”

With that, Kelly nodded, pulled around the fella trying to collect himself, and exited the parking lot into quiet anonymity.

Following last week’s action at Trestles, the office here was buzzing with opinions regarding the outcome (see here). I won’t regurgitate it all, ’cause I’m sure you know the results of the barn burning finish between Slater and Taj by now. (If not, Slater won by less than half a point).

But as my colleagues discussed in the feisty Hardball style video excerpt, something that was on my mind during the long walk back up the dirt trail was “the psychology of Slater.”

Whether or not that fraction of a point was legit enough from a performance standpoint to award him the trophy is debatable. But how did he make up for any doubt in the judges minds? Well, through maintaining the strongest emotional connection with the crowd, and basically demanding it from the judges.

At the end of Slater’s winning ride, the crowd was going absolutely bonkers. Trust me, I was one of them. But based solely on the ride, at that point I still didn’t know who was going to win. It wasn’t until immediately after the ride that it became clear.

There was approximately a minute and a half left on the clock. Instead of paddling back out (granted, this would have probably taken most of the 1:30 just to get back to the lineup) or merely giving a modest wave and quietly exiting the water?Kelly claimed the wave with a succession of animated and aggressive fist pumps, yells, and board waves, furthering the crowd into a full on frenzy. He even looked to the judges while doing so, as the crowd roared, as if to say, “Give it to me; I dare you not to.” Meanwhile, the crowd rushed him on the cobblestones while he was still knee deep in the shorebreak.

Of course, all this is purely anecdotal. And I don’t mean in any way to detract anything from Kelly’s ride, which was very strong, to say the least. There’s a reason why the guy has won five out of seven tour stops this year. But however you look at it, the difference that determined the win was split by a hair. I wouldn’t have wanted one of the judges jobs on that one.

Who would you have given the trophy?

East Coast surfers often lust over the consistency and quality that California delivers on a regular basis. But come fall, if you’re an East Coaster living on the West, you inevitably and ironically find yourself dreaming about back home.

Why is this? West Coast transplants get fun surf year round (in all shapes and sizes), so why should it really matter if the East Coast turns on for a couple weeks?

Well, I’m sure we could have fun with a complete psychoanalysis of the surfer mind. But at the core, I think one answer is: you can’t reason with hurricane season. And because of that, we’re drawn to it. Surfers aren’t a rational breed.

There’s an unparalleled rush to it. Sometimes you cash out big, sometimes you roll snake eyes. But that experience keeps you rolling. It’s like gambling.

You could score the best waves of your life, you could get totally skunked, or your home could be vaporized (storms destroyed my apartment while living in Florida in 2004). All surfers live for the chase. But for East Coasters during hurricane season, the chase takes on almost mythical proportions. It’s magnified, intensified, contextualized. “Dude, it hasn’t been this good since ‘95.” “Bro, these are the best waves I’ve ever scored in my life.” “Man, my house got totaled and the wind’s been blowing 50 mph onshore for a week straight.”

And when you’re fairly wave starved the other 75 percent of the year, this polarized excitement is like an adrenaline shot through the breast plate. So we Right Coasters living on the Left observe this from the outside and, for at least a little bit, we’re right back there, at the proverbial slot machine once again. Even if it’s just in a vicarious day dream.

That said, while I do miss the thrill, the unique smell of the autumn air (kind of like “napalm in the morning”), and surfing in boardies at an uncrowded backyard spot going Richter (a spot that is crappy most of the year) with a only couple good friends, I don’t miss empyting out the soggy contents of a roofless, mold invaded apartment into an overloaded dumpster.

I can rationalize that, at least.

Yes, we’re the ones responsible for oil spills, sewer runoff, offshore dumping, and other assorted atrocities that fall on our oceans.

But have you ever considered that it’s not only our reckless actions that are filthy, but we ourselves are quite dirty as well? Literally, which poses yet another compounded threat (thanks to surfers and beach goers) to the ocean’s well being. Human runoff. That is, according to some folks in La Jolla, California. And in order to clean things up, they shut down the showers…

Confused.

Read on:

http://www.sdnews.com/vnews/display.v/ART/08/08/20/48ac8b7277dac

Sometimes it’s hard to recognize how odd or interesting something is when you’re immersed in it. But when you step away, you say: what was that all about?

I’ve had a few of those moments while picking through the piles of photos from the event.

Take the snake man here.

People bring a lot of weird stuff to the sand but this probably took the cake for me. “OK, let’s see here… wrap around sunglasses: check… Hulk Hogan bandanna and matching tank top: check… Starbucks Mocha Espresso Venti: check… And a couple of four foot boa constrictors: check. I’m ready to watch some surfing!”

Meanwhile, a photographer was asking himself: “Where’s a nice quiet, secluded place for me to do my swimsuit shoot?… Wait, I got it!”

What this picture doesn’t show is the thousands and thousands of people on the beach, and the surf heats right behind her. Smart marketing. Good thing she wasn’t shy.

And neither was this kid.

This caped crusader trolled the sand in a speedo (thankfully this shot is cropped high). Let’s just say people weren’t exactly lining up for his services.

At least not like they were lining up at the Paul Mitchell booth. Over in the festival area, the company was giving out $10 designer haircuts. Very fashion forward.

The sand wasn’t the only place for strange sightseeing, though. The sky and the water saw their fair share, too. Like people jumping out of planes right above the contest area.

It’s the first sky diving spectacle at The Open, front and center. The divers put on show, maximizing their free falls and gave that scene from Point Break a run for it’s money.

Out to sea, drunk monkeys and giant bananas patrolled the open waters in jet skis and catamarans?courtesy of Volcom, of course. (More monkeys and bananas also ran amok on the beach.)

That’s not to say I was surprised by any of this (you expect this type of thing at The Open, or maybe you just become desensitized to it). All I’m saying is the circus looks that much weirder when you’re not a part of the show.

Where there used to be stand-up paddle joust-offs to the death, there’s now just an empty void. Where there was once shredding in speedos, illegal border crossings by surfboard, cougar hunting, body surfing on inflatable sea monsters, there’s just fleeting memories of good times past. Where there was… Oh, you get the point.

From San Diego to Santa Cruz, a whirlwind of stunts, dares, pranks, and general debauchery barraged the coastline. We all vicariously lived through the escapades online. The surf world’s never seen anything like it. Matter of fact, no one’s ever seen anything like it. But don’t take my word for it, though, click here.

Anyway, all this helps explain some of the sad and pathetic measures I’ve observed around the office lately, attempts to compensate for loss.

-Like Associate Art Director Sam Allen taking a dare to eat food out of the TW Surf department’s private editorial fridge (which is only safe for energy drinks and beer):

-Or Sam trying to stair shred down Creative Director Marc Hostetter’s office stairs on a Morey board during a late night deadline crunch… Or our brave Editorial Assistant Ryan Brower sitting in Editor and Chief Chris Cote’s chair naked, while enjoying some of his literature.

Like I said, it was all pretty pathetic. Things didn’t really work out.

Luckily, we all have next year’s Cali Rally to look forward to?and, of course, the awards part tonight. In the mean time, we’ll all just have to cope the best we can.

So yeah, Slater just won JBay, and he now has four out of five event wins in his name this year. But at what point, mathematically speaking, does he have the 2008 World Title locked down?

Numbers aren’t my forte but I asked the ASP’s International Media Manager Dave Prodan for some insight.

Here’s how Dave broke it down:

“If Kelly doesn’t make a heat the rest of the season, he’ll finish with 6,110 points.

There are six events left and a possible 7,200 points possible.

Even if Kelly wins the next event, he still has 7,085 minimum with 6,000 available points left, so it won?t quite be stitched up after the next one.

Obviously, it’s unlikely that Kelly won’t get through a heat the rest of the season, but we can’t say he’s locked it up just yet.

My prediction is that if he continues to go at his current pace, he’ll stitch it up at Lowers or France.”

The eight-time world champion just won the Billabong Pro Jeffreys Bay, his fourth victory out of five events this season. The 36-year-old is closer than ever to securing a record ninth World Tour title. He would be the oldest World Champ ever, and the only one to ever win nine World Titles.

After the pivotal win, Slater said:

?I haven’t been in this position before, at this point of the year, with this many wins… I’d like to think I have it the bag but I have to be realistic, it’s early on ? we’re not quite half way yet. We have 11 events this year and this is number five.”

But everyone else needs to be realistic, too. Slater’s 1262 ahead of Joel Parkinson, who’s second place in the ratings. Plus, no one on the ASP World Tour has beaten him in a heat yet this season (only Brazilian wild card did in Tahiti).

So can The Champ be stopped? Not likely, but only time will tell. Cast your votes (or comment to this post, same thing).

Oh, and for the full scoop, go here:

http://surf.transworld.net/2008/07/17/slater-scalps-billabong-pro-jeffreys-bay-fourth-asp-victory-this-season/

http://surf.transworld.net/2008/07/17/billabong-pro-jeffreys-bay-final-day-highlights/