Operation: Fish Thief

I’m back bitches! No I didn’t die. There wasn’t an ‘Accidental Suicide’ or anything of that sort. It was April Fool’s Day! And the amount of Fools that sent emails of sorrow and what not… Come on people.

So I was near Baja last week with my little brother Drew. We were surfing a secret spot that only 3,274 other people knew about. I think we average 2 waves over 4 hours. Nice secret.

Well, we took a break from the lineup for a little while to get some food at this little hole in the wall spot. Dirty Spoon I think it was called. Name fit well too. I don’t think they had washed their dishes in a couple of years. Hell, I don’t think they even had running water.

I put our boards in the bed of the truck. Figured they’d be fine there. Drew said I was an idiot and that we should lock them up inside the truck. I said no worries bro… they’ll be fine. Little brothers don’t know anything.

Well I’ll be damned. We get back to the truck and the boards are gonzo man. Gone like Jamie O’s ASP rulebook. Gone like Shea Lopez’s virginity. Gone like… just gone man. Mine was a brand new fish that I hadn’t had for more than two weeks. Loved that board.

I knew I should have listened to Drew. Just don’t tell him he was right. It will go straight to the boy’s head.

We called the cops and waited and waited and waited. Nada. Nothing. They never showed. So we figured we would take things into our own hands. We would stake out the parking lot and see what happens. Maybe we could catch the fish thieves in action.

We waited up on a hill for a couple of hours. People came and went with no action. We sat there like a couple of snipers waiting for our target to come into range. I took a bunch of branches off of a bush and stuck them all over me. Instant camouflage. I’m resourceful like that bitches.

Boom… we have things working now. A couple of surfers pull into the parking lot with 3 boards on their rack. They go inside to eat. I wanted to yell down to them and tell them the food sucks but Drew wouldn’t let me. Right! That would blow our cover. Feeling like a CIA operative in Afghanistan, I wish that we would split up and use walkie talkies to communicate. I tell Drew that idea and he hits me in the forehead.

Bingo! We have our bandits in sight. Whiskey, Alpha and Charlie… Whatever that means. They say that shit in the CIA movies so I felt it was appropriate for me to say it.

Two vans pull up at the same time. One on each side of the surfer’s car. A bunch of Mexican dudes get out of both. They start using sign language to each other. I tell Drew, Look, they’re deaf dudes. They are using sign language. That’s sad. Bam! Drew hits me in the head again. What the hell dude??? He tells me I am an idiot. They are using gang signs. They are two separate gangs and they’re showing each other what gang they are from. I have one sign and it’s the middle finger. I show that sign and usually get into a fight. I quit showing it anymore though.

So one group takes two boards and the other group grabs the third board. They sling the boards into their vans and start to pull away. We haul major ass back to my truck and take off to follow them.

Because I know how to drive in a covert manner, I am able to follow them without getting caught. We are hitting speeds of near 75mph. Both vans are going in the same direction. Drew screams at me to go faster. I tell him that if I push the gas pedal any harder my foot will go through the floorboard.

Then the worst thing that could happen did…

Truck sputters and then stalls… Drew asks what is wrong. What am I doing? He screams… Keep going dude. You’re gonna lose them. They’re getting away. I look down and my gauges… Damn it! Drew asks what the problem is. I said we’ve run out of gas. He hits me across the back of the head again…. ‘You’re an idiot dude. A total idiot!’. The vans leave us in the dust.

Operation Fish Thief mission failed.

~RS