A river of soupy water flowed swiftly away from the ocean shore and out to sea. Strong currents were common around the breakwater which was the predominant feature of the local surf spot called Rockpiles. The frightened young boy death-gripped the drifting boogie-board like a helpless survivor clinging to floating wreckage. Caught in a strong rip amongst the breakers, the boy screamed out for assistance. No one heard his cries. Meanwhile back on the beach, the boy's parents lay sleeping on their beach towels in the warm sunshine.
The father woke up on the hot sand in a cold sweat. He had dreamt he was a drowning man. He surfaced from his restless slumber to find two low-flying kites hovering above the windswept waves. As Dude trimmed high on a wave in preparation of a slashing top-turn, the kiter caught a glimple of a yellow object way out to sea. His curiosity got the better of him so he flicked off the wave and snapped a clean gybe that sent him into full speed. Closely shadowed by Man, the inseparable companion knew instinctively when to follow.
Still half asleep, the father watched both kiters heading for the horizon. The rail-spray cascading from the edges of their boards looked like synchronized fountains travelling in tandem. He wondered where his son might be. The lightweight board that was now attached to the boy's wrist by a leash was yesterday's Christmas gift. The father had purchased the boogie-board at a surfshop called Surf, Wind and Kiter which was owned and operated by Dude and Man, two well known shredders.
"I want to buy a boogie-board for my young son. How much is that yellow one?" asked the dad on that fateful day just before Christmas. Dude took the board from the rack and placed it in the hands of the parent.
"Good choice. Surf Biscuit is a top brand, a favourite with the drop-knee crew," recommended the salesman.
"What's it cost?" asked the customer.
"Has your son got swim-fins?" enquired Man. The father shook his head in a negative manner.
"As a bonus, we'll throw in a pair of swim-fins at a discount price," offered Dude.
"I'm not paying for swim-fins," replied the father adamantly. "Just tell me the price of the board and quit the hard-sell!"
The rip current had dragged the boy and his board out into the deep, dark water. The wind chop rudely slapped him in the face. He fought to get back to the shore by kicking with his naked feet only to be frustrated by the futility of his effort. The peril was not that he would get pulled under by the rip -- the real danger was how the boy would cope under these menacing circumstances. If panic set in, he would tire very quickly.
After the purchase transactions had been completed on that pre-Christmas day, and final pleasantries had been exchanged, the shop owners had shaken their heads in astonishment. They watched the father depart from their store, the new boogie-board tucked firmly under his armpit as he crossed the threshold and headed for the carpark.
"Totally clueless," murmured Sarah. "He has no idea of the importance of swim-fins."
The young, blonde sales-assistant was dressed in the latest surf fashion and looked extremely attractve. She stood behind the sales counter crunching numbers on her calculator, appearing to be busy but achieving nothing of any value. She made the comments without looking up from the gadget.
Dude and Man had nodded in agreement. They had seen too many vulnerable, young 'esky-lidders' drifting around in the surf at the mercy of the cruel sea. The surfshop owners knew that without swim-fins, a boogie-boarder had no effective means of propulsion, no way of driving the board properly. Paddling worked perfectly well with surfboards, but wasn't so good for 'esky-lids'.
"Kids on lids in the zone -- floating around like croutons in a bowl of soup," joked Sarah unsympathetically.
When the two rescuers arrived at the standed boogie-board, the boy looked exhausted and delirious.
"Are you both surf lifesavers?" asked the young victim.
"Hang onto the handle," said Dude pointing to the back of his harness. Man removed the boogie-board leash from the boy's wrist and then attached it to his spreader bar. It would be a slow and steady ride back to the beach for the two kiters and their hitch-hiker.
The week following Christmas was always a busy one in the store for the staff of Surf, Wind and Kiter. When the father of the rescued boy entered the store, Dude and Man didn't seem at all surprised.
"Are you chasing a pair of swim-fins for your son?" asked Dude. After the rescue, Man had firmly explained to the family about the risks associated with boogie-boards.
"Not really," said the dad. "My son has lost interest in boogie-boarding now."
"Perhaps we can help you with something else?" enquired Man.
"I want to buy a kite for myself. Is it quick to learn?" asked the eager customer as he impatiently checked his wristwatch.
"As a bonus, we'll throw in a lesson-package at a discount price," offered Dude.
"I'm not paying for lessons. I'll teach myself," said the newbie. "Just tell me the price of the kite and quit the hard-sell!"
"Totally clueless," murmured Sarah as she eavesdropped on the conversation from the confines of a fitting-room cubicle. Standing in front of the mirror humming a tune, she pouted her luscious mouth in a sexy but sulky way -- and applied some more lip gloss.
