NB: The term "Little Miss" does not reflect mine or Daniel's personalities. Well, maybe Daniel a bit.
I was walking along the beach with my friend Daniel. We had a small inflatable dinghy, which he was carrying due to my phobia (see Life Changing Accidents and Injuries 26 Jan 2010). Incidentally, this was the same raft which caused me such trauma. It was testament to my bravery that I was standing so close to it.
We stopped to discuss politics, the state of the country’s finances and other relevant topics two 15 year olds would talk about. Whilst in discussion, we both came to the conclusion that surfing is a very antisocial sport and decided it was our duty to alleviate this problem. This is the day Dinghy Surfing was created.
We rowed the vessel out to sea, bracing ourselves for the unremitting waves. Some have said that Sebastian Jungers international bestseller The Perfect Storm: A True Story of Men Against the Sea was based on our endeavour to reach the idyllic, impenitent “rogue wave” that would eventually launch our dazzling short lived professional Dinghy Surfing careers.
After no less than 5 minutes, we had hauled ourselves into the optimum position. We now had to wait for the wave. We sat there, heroicly fending off the diminutive waves, watching as the surfers antisocially surfed on their own. Then, we heard it. The deep rumbling noise of the “rogue wave” we were waiting for. The sea cleared. This was not suitable for a one person polystyrene board. Neither was it particularly suitable for 2 people crammed in a one man inflatable dinghy. But this was our chance, we had to ride this wave, and prove that surfing didn’t have to be the antisocial sport it is.
The wave hit. We didn’t have any time to think about what to do. In no time at all we were travelling like a bullet across the water. Our ears started to bleed as we broke the sound barrier. We were going so fast that it was impossible to turn, and this unfortunately resulted in inevitable casualties, as we bounced over terrified holiday-goers. This was a dangerous sport, and we had to accept the occasional victim.
After about 10 seconds of white-knuckle Dinghy Surfing we came to a stand-still. The scene was much like the ending to Apollo 13 as we walked up the beach, with people cheering and clapping and kids asking for our autographs. We even heard some people call it more of an art form than a sport.
Our job was done. We had successfully shown the world that surfing could be a group sport.
That was the last we ever heard of Dinghy Surfing.
It was impossible to sign all the autographs
Exaggerating Life Since Forever 