The Lineup

The surf lineup has an unspoken (or sometimes, loudly spoken) hierarchy.

The King

The Regular

The Local

The Legend

This human gets the wave if they choose to paddle into it. I didn’t know this at first. The first time I ever surfed at Topanga in Malibu with my friend, Tiff, I was completely unaware of the surfing hierarchy’s existence.

I was just a beginner. I had no clue what I was doing. So, I paddled right to the top of the lineup, which is a big no-no in surf culture.

If you just arrived in the water, then you’re supposed to wait your turn. You’re supposed to bob your way up the lineup (left-to-right in this case) as the people in front of you get the choice of whether to drop in. Set-after-set you’re supposed to wait, as the folks further up the break make a call on whether it’s “their wave”.

This queue plays a role in ensuring that an unsuspecting surfer doesn’t get speared in the head. If I drop in without seeing the guy coming down the line to my left, then I can be trying to stand up, while he’s gunning it full-speed-ahead.

To “drop in on someone” is the greatest sin in surf culture. Its intention is rooted in safety. But when someone gets dropped in on, their reaction can be very telling.

If they fall and come up screaming, assuming malicious intent, then they’ve probably been harshly scolded in the past, for committing the same transgression.

However, if they resurface with a smile, or maybe even a “you good?” directed toward the one who committed the act, then it’s often a signal that they remember that all of us make mistakes and that all of us were once a beginner back in the day.

Do they choose condemnation or forgiveness? It’s a choice each of us surfers get to make. When we’re sinned against, do we choose to see the other person? Or are we more concerned with preserving our superior status?

It’s counterintuitive, but the strongest surfers I’ve ever met tended to be the ones that were quickest to forgive. They didn’t need the hierarchy to reaffirm their position. They existed outside the Status Game. They were just focused on catching the next wave. They preserved their energy for what they cared about… the surfing. They didn’t care about how the other dudes in the lineup viewed them. And this undistracted focus made them better surfers in the end.

Again, the “wait your turn” plays a role. I’m not condoning the sin of dropping in. I’m just saying I’ve observed surfers exercise their option of whether to condemn or forgive.

One time I dropped in on a guy who fancied himself a local legend. I was at Venice Breakwater, a hotspot that can tend to get crowded. I was still in my Beginner Phase (and, let me be clear… still am).

I turned around to paddle into a wave, even checked both ways, but somehow completely missed him. By the time that I was in position to stand up, he was right on top of me, already carving. I did my best to bail, as I tried to get out of his way. But I caused him to fall, as he did his best not to spear me.

When we both resurfaced, all I could offer was a genuine, “I’m sorry.” He didn’t want to hear it though. He was so pissed. Utterly fuming. I could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears (unless he’d just farted in his wetsuit… I could’ve been mistaken). He met my “I’m sorry” with an “Open your eyes!!! And watch where you’re going!!!” He didn’t want to accept my apology. I didn’t even know if he’d heard it.

So, as he paddled back to the top of the lineup, I decided to simply follow him. I swam up right beside him and offered it up for a second time: “Hey man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drop in on you. I just didn’t see you.” Between huffs-and-puffs of rage (or maybe a resistance to his own unbearable flatulence), all he could muster was a repeat of his previously-used phrase: “Open your eyes!” But, this time it was slightly less combative than before. I sensed that he didn’t want to forgive me, but I also had nothing more to offer him. The wave had passed. I had screwed up. I knocked him off what I’m sure he assumed would be the perfect ride.

So, I offered up Round 3 as I hoped his anger would eventually lessen towards me: “I’m sorry man. I promise I didn’t see you. It wasn’t malicious. I didn’t intend to drop in on you.” Third time’s the charm I guess, because I got a reply that I decided to perceive as forgiveness. In a far softer tone, he mustered up the courage to say, “Ok. Fine. Just open your eyes next time.”

So, then we just sat there in silence. Staring out at the waves. Bopping up-and-down next to each other. Separated by our wetsuits of protection, while, unavoidably, sharing the water together.

So, back to my first time at Topanga, the time with Tiff, when I broke all the rules. I paddled right to the top of the lineup, completely oblivious.

The first set that came, I made an about-face & paddled in. I was in perfect position & I rode this puppy for days. Carving it up. Ear-to-ear cheesin’. It wasn’t until I paddled back out, unable to wipe the grin off my face, that I was informed of what I’d done by my most caring friend, Tiff. “Hey dude, just a heads up, you sorta just cut everyone to the top of the lineup. Granted, you were in the perfect position for that set, but normally you’re supposed to wait until the crew that’s ahead of you clears. Don’t beat yourself up about it. But just for future reference.”

My smile turned to guilt, once I’d realized what I’d done. But I also realized I couldn’t change it. And I’m grateful for Tiff’s framing that led me to that recognition. “For future reference” is a great way to receive constructive criticism. It’s a way to forgive the past, while ensuring that past mistakes aren’t repeated again. She served as a positive coach, one that I needed in this situation. I can’t imagine the feeling I’d have felt if I was instead reprimanded by the other “local legend”. It would've crushed me. Because, at this point, I was still very much a Beginner. It was my first time at this break. Up until this point, I was only used to surfing Breakwater. If I was scolded mercilessly, if one of the legends out there chose to have their way with me, then I probably would have never returned to Topanga again. I’m positive I would’ve succumbed to my insecurity if I would’ve been approached with harsh negativity.

So, I learned two lessons that day:

1. There’s a queue in the water. As ambiguous as it is sometimes, it’s in everyone’s best interest that I wait my turn for safety purposes

2. If one of my Beginner friends makes a mistake, use Tiff’s method of coaching “for future reference”

I guess I also learned a 3rd lesson that day:

3. Surfing is electric. And it’s hard to replicate the electricity that’s felt when flowing on a wave.