Dawn Patrol - Don Winslow [4]
Hang Twelve is still not convinced. “Yeah, but, fish tacos?”
“It depends on the kind of fish in the taco,” says High Tide, né Josiah Pamavatuu, weighing in on the subject. Literally weighing in, because the Samoan crashes the scales at well over three and a half bills. Hence the tag “High Tide,” because the ocean level rises anytime he gets in the water. So High Tide’s opinion on food commands respect, because he obviously knows what he’s talking about. The whole crew is aware that your Pacific Island types know their fish. “Are you talking about yellowtail, ono, opah, mahimahi, shark, or what? It makes a difference, ranking-wise.”
“Everything,” Boone says, “tastes better on a tortilla.”
This is an article of faith with Boone. He’s lived his life with it and believes it to be true. You take anything—fish, chicken, beef, cheese, eggs, even peanut butter and jelly—and fold them in the motherly embrace of a warm flour tortilla and all those foods respond to the love by upping their game.
Everything does taste better on a tortilla.
“Outside!” High Tide yells.
Boone looks over his shoulder to see the first wave of what looks to be a tasty set coming in.
“Party wave!” hollers Dave the Love God, and he, High Tide, Johnny, and Hang Twelve get on it, sharing the ride into shore. Boone and Sunny hang back for the second wave, which is a little bigger, a little fuller, and has a better shape.
“Your wave!” Boone yells to her.
“Chivalrous or patronizing, you decide!” Sunny yells back, but she paddles in. Boone gets on the wave right behind her and they ride the shoulder in together, a skillful pas de deux on the white water.
Boone and Sunny walk up onto the beach, because the morning session is over and The Dawn Patrol is coming in. This is because, with the exception of Boone, they all have real j-o-b-s.
So Johnny’s already stepping out of the outdoor shower and sitting in the front seat of his car putting on his detective clothes—blue shirt, brown tweed jacket, khaki slacks—when his cell phone goes off. Johnny listens to the call, then says, “A woman took a header off a motel balcony. Another day in paradise.”
“I don’t miss that,” Boone says.
“And it doesn’t miss you,” Johnny replies.
This is true. When Boone pulled the pin at SDPD, his lieutenant’s only regret was that it hadn’t been attached to a grenade. Despite his remark, Johnny disagrees—Boone was a good cop. A very good cop.
It was a shame what happened.
But now Boone is following High Tide’s eyes back out to the ocean, at which the big man is gazing with an almost reverential intensity.
“It’s coming,” High Tide says. “The swell.”
“Big?” Boone asks.
“Not big,” says High Tide. “Huge.”
A real thunder crusher.
Like, ka-boom.
5
What is a wave anyway?
We know one when we see one, but what is it?
The physicists call it an “energy-transport phenomenon.”
The dictionary says it’s “a disturbance that travels through a medium from one location to another location.”
A disturbance.
It’s certainly that.
Something gets disturbed. That is, something strikes something else and sets off a vibration. Clap your hands right now and you’ll hear a sound. What you’re actually hearing is a sound wave. Something struck something else and it set off a vibration that strikes your eardrum.
The vibration is energy. It’s transported through the phenomenon of a wave from one location to the other.
The water itself doesn’t actually move. What happens is one particle of water bumps into the next, which bumps into the next, and so on and so forth until it hits something. It’s like that idiot wave at a sports event—the people don’t move around the stadium, but the wave does. The energy flows from one person to another.
So when you’re riding a wave, you’re not riding water. The water is the medium, but what you’re really riding is energy.
Very cool.
Hitching an energy ride.
Billions of H20 particles