The Rican Hooker Fight...

The two Puerto Rican hookers are at each other, each with a fistful of hair and punching, kneeing, biting scratching, screaming- the works.

Somewhere in the mix a chair flies across the room.

And there I am right in the middle of it, screaming and laughing with my camera and snapping away as quick as I can.

LINK:  I got FIVE BUCKS on the little one!

Immediately there's a ROAR and a bunch more people slap down there money on the bar on top of mine.

And then I hear my buddy Josh whose bartending at the time scream and yell.

JOSH:  God damnit Lincoln, quit encouraging them!

A beer bottle of Medalla Light ZINGS through the air.

And there before me it just gets better.  And suddenly, in the middle of it all, I laugh and look up to the cieling and ask once again:

How the hell did I get here?  Gracias Adios!

O.K., let me REWIND and break it down for you so you can get a better frame of reference.

About an hour earlier that night I walked into 101 sports bar stoked to watch the World Series (Go Phillies) and laugh with Josh about our GO BIG OR GO HOME experience the few days before (see below Post). 

SIDENOTE: 101 Sports Bar in Isla Verde, Puerto Rico is my homebase.  Just over a month ago when I was back in Jax Beach, Fla. I ran into my buddy Keith who I had previously worked with when I was bartending at Landshark.  I told him I was living in Isla Verde, Puerto Rico and he gave me a big smile and said, "No Kidding, I go there all the time.  My brother Jon has a bar there.  It's called 101 Sports Bar." I hit it up within 10 minutes of arriving back in P.R. and the rest they say is history.  For you Jax Beach folk just imagine that the local vibe and the setup is eerily familiar to Fly Tie's Irish Pub in Atlantic Beach.  I luv em both.

So where were we...

Okee Doke.  So I walk into 101 to see Josh. As soon as I hit the door I immediately see two girls sitting at the corner of the bar.  The first one I see...mmm... well, let's just say I know the deal.  She's a smiling, cute Puerto Rican girl that is beautiful, a bit rough around the edges, and whose whole package screams Puerto Rican Hooker.

The second girl I see is Jen.  I met Jen a few weeks ago.  She's a small, petite, beautiful American girl who just moved to Puerto Rico from Berkeley, California.  When I asked her why she moved here she smiled and said, "Just because." Oh I dig it.  Every American living here has a story, and I love them all, but the "Just Because" is always my favorite answer.

So there I am.

I smile and kiss both girls hello and look at Josh a bit confused.

I sit down next to the PR Pro and soon learn that her name is Jenny too.  We laugh, do a shot, and still I'm confused.  Then I see Josh come up with his usuall big smile.  I can tell he sees the confusion and thoughts going through my head.

Geez, can't figure this one out.  The PR Mamasita I got, but Jen from Berkely doesn't strike me as the type to move here and hit the streets right away for a source of income.

Josh just smiles and then I hear it.  BEEP.  (Incoming text message)

JOSH ON TEXT:  She's a hooker!

No shit, I think with a smile and TEXT back:

LINK ON TEXT:  No shit.  But what about the American Girl?  Did they come in together?

Wait for it... Beep!  He's smiling even bigger now.

JOSH ON TEXT:  No, they just met tonight.  Forget about her.  We're going skinny dipping when I get off work in a couple of hours.

Shit!  Bastard!

I should of known.  I met Jen from Berkely a week before at 101 and we had a great conversation.  It was then that she told me that she just moved to Puerto Rico "Just Because".   I gotta admit I had carried a torch for her since and hoped to meet up with her again soon- she's just so cute!  Liked her even more when I first met her and asked...

LINK:  Oh that's so cool.  Yeah, this place is great.  Say, you just got here, um... have you met Josh yet?

JEN FROM BERKELEY:  Josh?  No, who's Josh?

Bingo! 

And then a week passed before we met again. 

Shit! 

Should of known that's all it would take for the two to meet and the rest they say is history.

Josh.  Gotta love em'.  He reminds me so much of all the boys back home and as far as the ettiquette and protocol when it comes to women... well let's just say ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR and I should of known and expected the inevitable.

Josh and Jen From Berkley smiling. Se La Vi.

But that's cool.  I looked at his TEXT, laughed and shook my head.

Then I concentrated on talking with the PR Mamasita.  Jenny From the Bloc, I call her.

WE talked and laughed.  We did a shot and laughed a little more.  She was sweet, pretty, a little raw, and above everything ALL BUSINESS.  I can tell GAME ON when I see it.  And she was all PRO. And I loved it.

SIDENOTE:  I love hookers.  Especially Puerto Rican Hookers.  Now never in my life,  have I or will I ever be with one sexually (this is just how I roll- to each their own), but as far as my affinity for good conversation and passion for meeting new and interesting people... well this is as good as it gets.  Once you get through the general ground rules and each establish that you're there for one another at a non-working capacity it just gets awesome.  Hookers, especially Latino girls, are some of the most interesting people you could ever meet.  And as far as good ole' fashioned entertaining conversation-  Oh, it's a GoldMine, baby.

And there I was.

Talking with Jenny From the Bloc and laughing with Jen From Berkely and my bartending buddy Josh. 

That's Jenny From the Bloc and Me on the left side.  Sorry guys, that's the best I got- Damn, ghetto camera.

The game was about to start and in a matter of minutes the bar started to fill up with sports fans, mostly Yankee Fans I might add.

NOW LET'S FAST FORWARD.

Everything is cool, kosher, and sweet peaches.   The games on and beside the occasional group laughter at the Two Jenny's drunken antics ít's business as usuall.

Everyone having fun... the calm before the storm.

And I guess, as I remeber it,  it was about the 4th Inning when the real Showdown began.

Another Puerto Rican women walks in.  A Pro and ripped and drunk as could be.  She's who I call THE NEW MAMASITA.

She's a bit older than Jenny From the Bloc and as she sits down at the bar a few chairs next to us all, I feel the vibe begin to develop.

She sits down and begins talking loudly and to nobody in particuliar- just phantoms and ghosts around the bar.  I see Josh smile and shakes his head- the universal sign for "This one's just too ripped.  There's no way I'm serving her and am going to have to ask her to leave. SHIT! Never a dull moment.  Solo in Puerto Rico."

I also see the two Mamasitas exchanging dirty looks and few whispered insults.

Roaaaaww. HIssss.

I'm luving it.  Wait for it, wait for it...

I smile and subtely begin to stretch my arms and legs.  Oh it so GAME ON.

The NEW MAMASITA begins talking even louder, insulting Jenny from the Bloc in Spanish, and banging on the bar for Josh to give her a drink.

HIssss. 

Oh it's so on!

Josh calls for the cook in the back to explain to her in Spanish that she's gotta go.  (Josh has been bartending here in P.R. for about nine months {A Denver Boy} and hardly speaks a lick of Spanish- I just love his style.)

They both come around the bar and explain to the NEW MAMASITA she's gotta go.

Jenny From the Bloc chimes in and adds her own two cents in Spanish.

Me, I'm sitting in the middle of it all stretching and laughing and getting ready for the whistle.

Josh and his boy try again.

Hiss!!!!

Jenny from the Bloc shouts back with another insult.

SCREETCH.

 I back my chair up, smiling ear to ear, take a deep breath and count to three.

ONE.

JENNY FROM THE BLOC:  Puta!

TWO.

NEW MAMASITA:  Tu estaS una Puta!

THREE.

JOSH AND COOK: Please ladies, you both have to leave right now.

AND WHAMMO!!!!!!!!!

The two Puerto Rican hookers are at each other, each with a fistful of hair and punching, kneeing, biting scratching, screaming- the works.


Me?

LINK:  YeeeeHaaahhhh!  Let's get it on!

Somewhere in the mix a chair flies across the room.

Yeehah!  I live for this shit.

Snap. Snap. Snap. Damn ghetto, broken ass camera.  Can't see the LCD screen since it cracked.  I have no idea what I'm shooting.  But no importa.  Cause Yeeehaahhhhh!

Screaming. Laughter. Snap. Snap.

LINK: I got FIVE BUCKS on the little one!

The sound of money following mine on the bar.

Then the sound of a THUD- the indinstictable sound of a head hitting the bar floor. 

Wait...O.K.- she's back up and back at it.  Everyone's back to business and pure pandamonium pursues. 

O.K. ladies, back at it!

Snap.  Snap.

Yeehah!

JOSH: God damnit Lincoln, quit encouraging them!

Snap. Scream. Yeahahh.

LINK: Sorry Josh!  Freedom of Speech.  Freedom of Press.

Through a headlock and WHIZZING martini glass Josh answers.

JOSH:  Yeah, well I have the Freedom to Cut Your Ass Off too!

Shit.

He's got me there.  Not only does he have that power he's also personally spotting me the tab for the night. (It's a Thursday, day before payday, and I'm broke- I can't wait till my 90 day probation period is over at PTS and I'm actually elegible for minimum wage and commission- long story, self-enforced right of passage)

But Josh does have me there- dead to rights.  He's spotting the tab and more importantly is the righteous one here.  Josh, gotta love him.

God Damn It, Lincoln! 

The reality of the situation begins to settle in.  But I'm having so much fun.  I respond.

LINK:  O.K. I'm cool!

I catch Jenny From the Bloc turn at me through a fistful of hair, shoot me a wink, and then execute a perfect kidney punch to her adversary.

Maybe I am encouraging it a bit.

I back off and am even generous enough to walk into the bathroom and watch the mayhem through the door.  The Cheap Seats, baby.

Then, as all Classic Bar fights resolve, the reinforcements come in.  The 101 bouncer comes in, on duty and just starting his shift and sees all this happening.  What a way to start the night, huh buddy?

Two seconds later both girls are tossed out into the streets.

The World Series is tied at 1 to 1.  Nobody is watching.  The entire bar rushes to the windows like a tidal wave to catch the REAL SEVENTH INNING STRETCH.

I'm there too.  Tippy-toeing over shoulders and snapping away.

JOSH:  Lincoln...

LINCOLN:  I'm cool.  I'll be good I promise!

Snap.  Snap.

The girls are now separated and staring one down a few feet apart in the middle of the street.  Both exhausted in there Mexican Standoff.

Snap. Snap.

I'm Cool. Damn Camera.  Hope I'm getting this.

The Mexican/Puerto Rican standoff continues.  Seventh Inning Stretch. 

I subtely slip out of the bar for a better angle.

I hear Josh in the background.

JOSH: Fuck it, Lincoln.  Go nuts, dude!  As long as they're out of here I don't care.

I snap a good one of NEW MAMASITA regrouping for the eighth inning.

I hear laughter from inside the bar.

The bouncer makes the executive decision to pick up Jenny From the Bloc and place her inside on a stool for safekeeping.

And there I was.

Standing out on the sidewalk and watching the NEW MAMASITA screaming into the sky and to the window full of onlookers.  Screaming jibberish and clawing at the air.

And there I was.  And suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore.

I looked at her, this New Mamasita, and I knew that look.  I knew that face.  I knew that desperation and frustration.  I knew that craziness.

I had seen it before.

I had seen if before, a long time ago. But not too long ago.  To be brief and vague I'll just say I had seen the look in what I now affectionately refer to as the Great Costa Rican DaveO Fire.  And that's all I say about that for now.  Just know that I knew that look and suddenly knew what to do.

Put me in coach.  I'm ready.

I walked passed the New Mamasita and sat over on the bench across the street.

Never in my life had I felt like I knew what I was doing as I did at that exact moment.

LINK:  Mira. Venga.  Como te llamas.  (Hey, come here.  What's your name.)

The New Mamasita looked at me for a second and then went back to screaming at the air and curious window fanclub.

Mira. Como te llamas.  Queries tener un cigarro con me.  Estoy Tranquillo.  Yo lo promerta.  (Hey, what's your name... Uh, ah.. screw it- You figure out the rest of the translation through the hundred of Free Translation Websites out there- it's healthy trust me. )

This went on for a few reciprocal moments. 

Finally she slowed just a bit, took one more swipe at the phantom air and came over.

She sat, still screaming a bit.  I passed her a smoke.  And then we talked.

I wish I could tell you what we talked about, but this one's mine.

I'll just say that I talked to her in my pitiful broken Spanish and she talked to me in her surprisingly efficient broken English.  And together we talked.

And we talked about... life. Just life.  It's amazing to me as always to get another person's perspective on life.  Who she was.  Why she was so angry.  How she got there.

And that's good enough for now.

Just know we talked.  We talked and soon began to laugh a bit.  And after a while we shook hands, became friends, and said our goodbyes.

And I left her, sitting on the park bench with a smile. 

I walked away from her and headed down the street towards home- my head reeling with guilt and amazement.

Life and people, man, they never cease to amaze.

I'd like to say I left her in good graces and all was todo bien.

Oh Lincoln, what a saint.

Not!

Just a dumb ass as always trying to figure out life as I go along.  And it never disappoints or ceases to amaze me.

I'd like to say she went home feeling the same.  Later, and a bit sorry to hear, Josh told me the next day when we paddled out to Caballos, the best and rarest wave in Puerto Rico (BIG!)....

Caballos.

Small Day. Just Overhead on Peak Sets.

But so much fun. Despite two mile paddle out to outer reef (Kayaks and Paddleboards help).

And Just so much fun.

Josh- How bout them Hookers?  And How bout these waves!!!!!

.... that her and Jenny From the Bloc where on the street and back at each other's throats for the 8th inning.

Strangely enough, now that I think about it.. it was probably at the exact moment of the 8th inning of the actuall World Series.

Life, ain't it nuts?

And people and love make it go round.

Here's to you My Loves. My two Mamasitas.  Thank you for another lesson and realization in life.

And the rest is ours.

Yeehaaah!

And for all the rest of you... YOU, the one that's reading this and the one that I've shared so much laughter with and miss so much...

Let's just keep laughing.

I am you and you are me.

Fun, ain't it?

So let's keep laughing and make the world go round.

Till then my friend...

Go Big or Go Home! Damn, I'm Cracking Up...

"Go Big or Go Home, Right!" Josh screams and then I lose him through the rain.  He's a hundred yards ahead of me and disappearing through a monsoon.

Once again I think that old thought, How the hell did I get myself into this one.

Josh texted me earlier and asked me to go Kayaking.

TEXT:  Got boats?

Sure, I think.  I called my buddy Art and asked him if it was O.K. to borrow a kayak.  Art, being just the cool guy that he is, said sure, although he was juggling about twenty different things and I would have to meet him in front of his place in twenty minutes. 

So after cutting out of work a bit early, loading my Kayak and gear in 5 or less, there we were.  In front of Art's condo, oceanside and ready to rock.

LINK:  Thanks again, Art.  Really man. 

ART: No Worries bro.  I just gotta a lot going on so maybe I'll meet you guys out there in a little bit.  Just remember any gear you lose you gotta replace.

LINK: Of course, always man, always.

And there we were.  Josh and I putting our Kayaks in and paddling into Big Blue.  A nice, dead black sky to the right of us.  A storm a coming.

LINK:  Uh, just out of curiosity, you ever Kayak in the ocean before, Josh?

JOSH:  Nope.  In a river once.  How hard can it be?  These things are sturdy as can be right?

Sturdy as can be.  Sure, why not.  We're just going out, getting wet... a little sight seeing is all.

Fast forward to the mile and a half paddle out.  Still cool.  We're in the safe zone.  I know these waters.  Or at least good enough to have a smile on my face and not much worries. 

LINK: Beautiful view, ain't it?

JOSH:  Fuckin'A.  Hey check out those guys all the way over there.  I think that's Art and the other guys.  Let's go there.

LINK:  Uhh, yeah, but you see that's the BREAK.  That's shallow waters.  That's the storm coming in.  That's big wave. That's... Josh?

Josh is gone.  A hundred yards away and paddling his ass off for Art, the other guys, and big wave glory.

Go big or go home!  I hear Josh scream.

LINK: Yeah, but, you don't have you're gear locked in!

JOSH:  No worries, I got it stuck between my legs!

And he's gone.  And I'm laughing and shaking my head.

Shit!  How the hell did I get myself into this one.

You gotta admire Josh.  He's balls out and ready to charge it.  But with all do respect he's a first timer, maybe seen to many movies and holding too much pride.  Maybe doesn't realize the levity of the situation.  Maybe doesn't care that we're in pouring down rains, double... sometimes triple overhead waves, and fucked if caught in the wrong spot.  Above all, maybe he's never felt the wrath of Mother Ocean, that cool but decietful slut that can entice you into a world of hurt.

Fuck, what to do?

I laugh and realize the answer. 

Fuck it, let's snap a picture.

Finally I catch up with Josh and see Art and a few other surfer's and paddleboarders out.  I look over at the Soup, the non-threatening part of the reef and see the Dingy that they motored in on.

Bet Josh doesn't realize that's how they got out here so quick.  Nor does he realize the predicament we're in.

The waves are pitching, the rain is coming down in falls, and the crazy fucker is sitting right in the middle of the impact zone.  NOT ON THE OUTSIDE.  NOT WHERE I'M AT. 

Suddenly I realize, wait, am I supposed to be a guide here?

LINK: JOSH, YOU'RE GOING TO GET PITCHED! PADDLE TOWARDS ME, MAN.

Josh just smiles and gives me a thumbs up.  Go Big or go home.

And then it happens.

I feel it first and see it second. The OUTSIDE IS COMING.

I turn behind me and see it gathering.  A nice, monster of a set, drawing it's energy and building into a wall.  I can hear the screams of everyone howling and hooting.  Josh hollers too.  Twenty Yards in front of me, he hollers.  Oh you so don't want to be there, bro.

What to do, what to do?  What can you do? 

I laugh, point my boat towards the beach( a long way away) and paddle.

In moments it hits.  I'm sliding down the face of this monster, looking at Josh about ten to fifteen feet below me, and I'm smiling back.

Oh you so don't want to be there, bro.

The wave hits, the whitewater is all around me, and I'm still laughing.  And then I see it.

A missle shoots out of the water just to the left of me.  Josh's Kayak.  I'm ripping down this wave, laughing, trying to stay upright, and feel the shadow of his Kayak above me like a SCUD MISSLE zeroing down. 

Go big or go home.

And still I laugh.

Long story short I finished the wave.  Said Hi to Art who got worked on the same set- but we're in the soup and it's cool- and then looked back at the horizon and see Josh's Kayak floating upside down. I think I see Josh... wait... yes, he's recovered and swimming back to his kayak.

Ten minutes later I paddle back into the line up and catch up with Josh who's just getting back to life.  He's puking a little saltwater, eyes bloodshot, and shaking his head.

Go Big or Go home.

And I gotta hand it to him.  The crazy, first timing motherfucker goes for another one:  Repeat and rinse. Get pitched and get worked. And he goes again.  Ballsy brother, ballsy. Repeat and rinse.

After a while, and several great huge waves for me I can't help but to add, I catch back up with him and can see he's worked.  He's worked, puking salt water, and still smiling.  Ballsy brother, ballsy.  Mother Nature, ain't she a bitch.

Art and the rest of the group swarm to the Dingy and motor back in- bastards!  Oh to be a dialed in Local, how cool.

Josh and I paddle in the old fashion way.  The sun has already set.  The now crystal clear horizon of San Juan sits before us.  And we take our time getting back in.  Being that's the only option.

And it's beautiful.

Beautiful, ain't it brother.

Josh pukes up a little more salt water.

Go big or go home.

Ballsy brother, ballsy.

And let's go home.

We've got some gear to buy and replace- anchors, snorkeling masks (Josh's), a new set of balls.

So let's go home now.

And through it all I'm still Cracking Up.

Cats and Clouds...

After a tough day and even tougher night I woke up on the beach to a beautiful sunrise and looked up to see one of the strangest and most beautiful clouds I have ever seen.

My eyes focused through the hazy remnants of dreams and sandy eyes.  What was this cloud?  It was like nothing I had ever seen before.  It was... could it be... a sign.

I rubbed my eyes and brushed the sand from my hair and face.  Somewhere through the night I remember the sound of Thunder.  Only it was more than just Thunder, it was so much more powerful- a hollow boom that was followed by a shockwave of wind and heat.

Was it a bomb?  Have the terrorists started bombing Puerto Rico?  I know it's a U.S. territory but come on, P.R. is filled with passionate Puerto Ricans, not the dreaded infidels that are such golden targets.

What the hell was that?  Later, after I brushed  myself off and hit the store for a cup of Joe on my bike, I see the newspaper Nueva Dia and see the picture of the cloud.

A giant explosion of a jet fuel plant.  I mean GIANT.  It's still burning and the cloud casts a huge black and white shadow in the shape of an atom bomb mushroom cloud. 

Not a sign after all, but pretty cool if you ask me.

After a cup of Joe I try to shake off the previous day and night before.  Later my buddy Art gives me a call.

ART:  I'm riding my bike down to Old San Juan, it's about a forty five minute bike ride.  I'm going to El Morro.  I volunteer at a Cat Rescue Center there and need to ride around in a golf cart and feed the kitties around the Fort.  Wanna go?

Sure, why not?  After Yesterday I'm up for anything positive.

So twenty minutes later we're cruising through the backstreets of San Juan beaches.  What an awesome ride- but what a ride.  It's a work out in itself but I'm luvin' it.  Through busy streeets, office centers, bridges, fancy hotels, and crowds of various people we eventually get to Old San Juan. 

First we stop off at a Park, just by the cliffs and listen to some local musicians jam out on their drums and other instruments.  We listen to the music and check out the nice waves breaking out in the ocean below us.

After that we pedal on, reaching the narrow cobblestone streets of Old San Juan. 

Old San Juan, just one of the coolest places in the world.  For those of you that have been to St. Augustine, Florida or the Motherland of Spain then you can relate to the style of the place.  It was built by the same line of architects after all.

After a while we reach El Morro, one of the sister Forts and check out the fire burning in the backgrounds.  It feels kind of serene yet spooky.  Like some Sci- Fi, Armageddon type of day.  You know, the usuall.

Art takes me down the hill to the Cat Rescue Center and shows me inside.  Inside are a few cats in cages (he explains to me those are the ones that are sick and are being treated) and about twenty other kitties meowing and just chillin around the floor and outside steeps.  Through a Kitty Door they can come and go as they please.  Outside a couple of cats are sitting on the roof of the Golf Cart.  A pretty cool scene.

Art shows me how he fills their water and food.

Nice, I say.

ART: Oh this is nuthin, brother.  Wait till we get in the cart and go see the real colonies. That's the real deal.

So we fill up about twenty large bottles of water and he grabs a bucket of Kitty food.  Art has already stopped by the store and grabbed a full grocery bag of Wet Cat food- the real treat, he tells me.

Next we're off in the cart, cruising through the little narrow streets of Old San Juan.  What a way to travel.  Due to the fire and other things the cops have closed down a few of the narrow, popular streets.

No worries, Art shoots them a smile and they wave us on through.  I guess he's well known around here- or at least the cart is. 

Before we know it we're zippin down the path that runs just along the giant cliffs of the fort-  El Morro.  What an awesome sight.  The Ocean and the Cloud of Fire to the left of us and the giant spiring cliffs of El Morro to the right.  Fun, fun, fun.

We don't even roll about twenty yards and then I see them.

Holy Cow.  Or should I say Holy Cats. 

Cats are suddenly appearing out of nowhere- from the rocks to the left, from bushes to the right, jumping down from the cliffs, all of them realizing the sound of the golf cart and what it represents.

Now that's a lot of pussy.

LINK:  Oh man, Art, this is nuts.  Look at them all!

ART:  Ah, this is nothing.  This is just the first feeding station and colony.  We've got ten more feeding stations to go.  Wait till you see some of the bigger colonies up ahead.

Bigger colonies?  What the hell.  Cats were meowing and still coming out of the woodwork in droves.  Art smiles, parks the cart, and immediately goes to scattering cat food all along the rocks- anywhere he sees a cat.

ART:  See how all there ears are clipped.  That means they've been taken to the vet, neutered and given all the proper shots and treatment.  It's really a good thing the San Juan Cat Rescue group does.

A good thing indeed.  Around me dozens of cats are meowing and chowing down.  I look at the U shaped clips in each of their ears.

Art asks me to pour some water at the station on the right.  I jump up through a path in the bushes and find the station.  I fill up their water trough and smile.  Man this is so cool.

And this is how we rolled for the rest of the afternoon.

The day before was a bit of a nightmare.  And now I was here, standing in one of the most beautiful places in the world, riding around in a golf cart, and feeding and watering about a thousand purring kitties.

Life, it's just nuts, ain't it.

I'm Back In Action, Baby!

Yup, I'm back in action baby!

A couple days ago I wrote in the last post about how bummed out I was over breaking my new water camera.  The real sting of it was that it's been bounced around reefs (usually with me on top of it), juggled through waves, and tossed through all kinds of whitewater- but it took me doing a simple, somewhat boring  photo shoot for PTS company business to break it (it was in my pocket and someone accidentally tapped it lightly with a door and the LCD screen schattered in 3 pieces).

Man, I was heartbroken.  Thus, the previous post.

Then after dealing with the reality for a day, and the way life so often works- the good news came:

 A. I actually had a warrantee on the thing and could get a new one sent to me.  B. The camera still worked, I just had to take a photo of the cracked screen, guess what I was taking because the viewer screen doesn't work, and use a little superglue.

Oh, the SuperGlue.

I know a lot of you were laughing at me when I texted you and posted the facebook question of:

Just out of curiosity, anyone know how to get ur fingers unstuck when u accidentally SuperGlue them together. This sucks.  Help!

Ah, what can I say.  I've only used SuperGlue a couple of times in my life and never realized how quick the stuff dries. 

A classic Lincoln moment as I'm sure you all know.

Anyway, SuperGlued the cracks in the LCD camera to insure it stayed waterproof and was content with the fact that I would just have to guess what I was shooting.  Love it.

Also way stoked on the fact that my friends Tanya and Art invited me to join their Wednesday Women's Humpday PaddleBoarding morning session.

Art and Tanya.  http://www.puertoricopaddle.com/

And there I was.

Who me?  You want me to join you with a dozen or so other beautiful girls for a fun morning of surfing, paddleboarding, and shooting it with my now Ghetto SuperGlued camera.  Sure, why not.  Love too.

And I did.

Oh I so did.

Arrived at 6:30 in the morning at their Condo on the beach, Park Blvd, and wasted no time in hopping in the kayak and joining the group.  The Park Blvd. Condo complex is a watermen's/waterwomen's paradise to begin with.  And you add the slew of beautiful people and the fact that they have a ton of paddleboards, kiteboards, kayaks, surfboards, foilboards, Ocean dingeys, the works, well... you know... It's a Party!  It's a Party!

Oh what a blast.  Please feel free to check out their website at http://www.puertoricopaddle.com/

Ocean Park Condo, Ocean P.O.V.

So we're out there having a blast.   When we reach the break, about a half mile to mile paddle out but all fun, I waste no time in anchoring the kayak to the bottom and jumping in the water with my fins, camera, mask, and beautiful women surrounding me.

And then the real fun begins.

Everyone was experienced at all different levels.   Some ripped and some were just happy to be out there laughing and paddling with the gang. 

One thing about PaddleBoarding, almost anyone can do it.  It's like standing on a giant long surfboard and moving through the water via... well, you guessed it, with a paddle.

If you can stand, you can Paddle.  And if you can't, then you can do it like my dumbass and on your knees.

Just kidding.  I stand on the thing and rip, except when I'm falling off every ten or fifteen seconds.  But that's just me.

Anyone can do it and it's a blast.

At one point in time I looked over and saw that my achored Kayak seemed to be a good distance away than I remembered it.  

LINK:  Uh, Art, might want to keep an eye out on that puppy.  I could of swore it was anchored pretty good, but uh...

ART:  No, it's drifting.  No worries bro.  I'm on it.

Art paddles over to the Yak and safes the day as usuall, anchoring it firmly to the reef on the inside.

Loving it.

And hope you are too.

And I'm here and you're there.

And yet we're still just a laugh away.

And this is all here whenever you feel like a little getaway.

And I'll always be coming round your way soon.

Miss u guys.

Sunny Skies, baby.  Sunny Skies.