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It’s been a lifelong dream of mine to surf. I was in South Africa a few years ago and finally got the chance to ride the waves like Kelly Slater. Okay, fine, not quite like Kelly Slater. But I did stand up on the board. That’s why I was super-excited about the chance to surf again in Barbados with none other than the Action Man himself, Brian Talma, who peppers each sentence with liberal applications of the word “action,” and whom we profiled in our September 2008 issue (Surf’s Up on Rum Island). First came Talma’s lesson: “Lie down on the board. Do a push up. Pop up and stand sideways. Action.” Well, for a pro like me, a short lesson like that would surely suffice, right? We paddled out; I attempted to stand, got to my knees and promptly fell sideways off the board. No sweat, I thought, I’ll surely get up next time. Again we paddled out, I turned the board around, saw the wave coming and — Action! I was standing! Sort of. Then, as before, I tumbled off the side of the board. And then it happened — the board decided it wasn’t quite through with me and swung around for one final encounter, with the fin underneath giving me a solid slice to the side of the nose. As I stood up with my hands on my face, little trickles of blood running through my fingers, I knew that the surfboard had won that day. But I’d be back. No permanent injuries were sustained and now the shiner I had gave me mad street cred I’d been craving. Action.

Faithful readers may recall my massage injury from Aruba — a pattern, unfortunately, seems to be emerging. And I’ve been told these things happen in threes. But, it’s just another example of the beating I’m willing to take for the story. It’s gonzo journalism at its best. Or something like that.

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