How much do you know about Hawaii? Besides the Seven Mile Miracle, I mean. Besides Pipeline and Waimea Bay. Besides Da Hui and the Wolf Pack. Besides the Volcom house, the Billabong house, and the other million-dollar properties that line the coast. Besides the faceless girls in bikinis. Besides the threatening, dark-skinned locals who have become sinister caricatures in the mostly white world of surfing. Besides “Respect.” Whatever the hell that means.
If you have never spent extended periods of time there and receive most of your info about Hawaii through travel brochures and surf media (like I do), this is probably the extent of your knowledge of the place. It’s surfing’s slightly disturbing version of Disneyland. It’s Mickey Mouse with a neck tattoo and brass knuckles.