I hate surfers. Like, I fucking HATE surfers. There are too many of them (us), and I have to fight them for waves. They’re (we’re) loud, selfish, and far too concerned with being a surfer. Crowds of them (us) swarm every great wave on earth. But I love surfing. Like, I fucking LOVE surfing. I assume that I’m not alone in these feelings – which is why I also fucking LOVE Kelly’s wave pool. Not because I want to try it (I do, and if you say you don’t, you’re a liar), but because with any luck, we’re witnessing a dawn of a new era of surfing. With even more luck, that new era will create a bunch of neon-clad wave park rats who have no interest in Mother Nature’s oh-so-imperfect waves.
Wave pools, as you know and have probably shouted on a comment board somewhere, are surfing’s soulless shitstains sharted straight from the devil’s butthole. “WAVE POOLS ARE THE HARDENED CRUST ON WEEK-OLD DOG VOMIT!” you shouted through your keyboard, spittle spraying from your twisted fingers as you stab your caps lock key. “THEY ARE THE MAGGOTS INFESTING A BLOATED, RANCID POSSUM CARCASS!” And you’re right! They are! Which is why they’re a good thing, at least for those who think like that.
In an effort to create the perfect wave, the perfect wave will become an average wave. Even perfection – much like the unwarranted 10 point rides the WSL judges puke out – wears thin if too much perfection is attained. Part of what makes perfect so perfect is that it’s usually NOT perfect. But kids these days, right? Instant gratification rules all. Patience is no longer a virtue – instead, it’s an annoyance. Putting in your time is pointless. The future is bright for impatient little shits, and by default for you, because you’re not an impatient little shit.
You know why? All those weekend warriors, the ones who’ve been desperate for a wave all week, will disappear from the lineup. They are impatient and nasty, and they will greedily suckle the teat (dick) of the wave machine, gorging themselves on thick, mucousy, man-made milk. Yeah, there’s more of that milk, but it’s got far less sustenance. All those people scratching for a few waves before work will vanish. Only have an hour? Why bother risking it in the ocean when you can pay a few bucks for guaranteed good time? There’s a reason why prostitution is the world’s oldest profession: people will always pay for an easier version of a real thing that’s hard to get. But no one falls in love with hookers. Not for real.
In time, as wave pool companies spread their deliciously long, slimy tendrils across the country, getting fatter as more and more people fall victim to the temptation of the instant gratification they offer, you, with your appreciation for the waiting game, with your pocket full of patience, with your love of the long con, will be sitting out the back, letting the average ones go, and waiting for the bomb set… because now, thanks to wave pools, you’ll be able to.