Bodysurfing loving tourists who visit Ocean City, New Jersey every summer know that the best waves to be had lie between the stretch of beach between 7th and 10th Streets. Why that is, nobody knows for sure, though the locals say it's because of the shoreline, shaped just right to produce the biggest, most perfectly shaped waves on the island. Ocean City is hardly Malibu or, the ultimate, Oahu's fabled North Shore. Still, when conditions are right, especially when a storm rages off the coast, the swells can give even Big Wave riders a thrill.
The problem is, in peak season, there's not much room to bodysurf. Board surfers have their own stretch of beach. Not so the bodysurfers, who must stay within the narrow parameters set by the lifeguards. Wander past those green flags and you'll hear the shrill blast of a lifeguard's whistle. Bodysurfers accept the inconvenience (albeit grudgingly), including the collisions that invariably occur when too many people are packed into too little space.
Stephanie Nason and Walt Richmond ran into each other in Ocean City, literally. Each decided to take the same wave at the same time, a powerful four-footer that had everybody around them screaming in anticipation. Walt, his eyes closed as the wave propelled him toward the shore, didn't see Stefanie but he felt her, felt his chin smack into her head, then felt his body slide over hers before the wave dumped him onto the sandy bottom.
Once upright, he spun around to see who had been on the receiving end. A girl in a white bikini was holding her head. She looked annoyed. "I'm so sorry," Walt said. "Are you okay?"
"I was until a few seconds ago." She rubbed her scalp, checking for bleeding. "Didn't you see me?"
"No, I had my eyes closed. Seriously, are you okay?"
"Seriously, you might have given me a serious headache." She shook her head in disgust.
They were standing close to the shore, no longer in a position to ride the breakers that continued to roll in. Walt apologized once more, then began to head for the beach.
"Wait," she cried, then splashed through the shallow water and touched his shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry for being nasty. We both took a wallop. It might not have happened if these damn lifeguards would give us more room to maneuver." She looked at his chin. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," he said, rubbing his chin and thinking that the adjective fine was an apt description of her as well. Some girls have no business wearing a bikini. Not this girl, who had every business wearing one—and anything else revealing. And now that her scowl had morphed into a look of compassion, he saw for the first time how pretty she looked. Amazing, he thought, how a change of attitude influenced one's perception of someone's outward appearance.
She threw her hands on her hips. "So, you headed in? I hope you're not going to let our little accident keep you out of the ocean."
Walt grinned. "What happened to your serious headache?"
"Right now, I'm okay. Later on, who knows?" She extended her hand. "I'm Stephanie."
He took her hand. "Walt. Should I say nice meeting you?"
She threw her head back. The sound of her laughter mingled with the squawk of seagulls. "Only if you mean it."
"I mean it."
"Good. Then instead of going in, maybe you can keep me company riding these waves. It's not every day we get surf like this in Ocean City."
She had that right; it wasn't, nor was the high seventies water temp, unusually warm even for August. Added to the powerful waves, these were near perfect conditions.
They waded out to the "sweet spot," the place where the waves start to break. A few feet in either direction, too far in or too far out, could spoil a potentially good ride. Walt was careful to avoid a repeat of what happened before, at least with his newfound friend. He couldn't help bumping into other bathers. Stephanie had her share of bumps as well, though there were no more hard head slams.
Walt was having a blast. Everything was perfect, almost too perfect—the waves, the weather—and he was enjoying it all with a beautiful stranger he knew nothing about except her first name. Like many of his friends, like so many single people, he harbored romantic fantasies of meeting someone special at the beach. He was here with Chad and Dennis, a couple of his buddies who at this moment preferred to lounge on their beach chairs, catching rays and listening to music on their IPods. Walt didn't have high expectations of meeting a girl in Ocean City, family oriented and dry since its founding in the mid-1800s. If hooking up is your top priority at the South Jersey Shore, you'd stay in Wildwood, with its bars and nightlife and, presumably, men and women on the prowl. Ocean City had a nice boardwalk, and boardwalks by their nature are sexy places. However, it's normally look but don't touch, unless you were incredibly lucky, and few are. Fantasies aside, Walt was here for the same reasons most people came here, beach and boardwalk, ocean and sun. Still, he knew he had nothing to lose in the pursuit of fantasy, especially when the possibility of success, however remote, appeared to fall into his lap; or, in this case, bang into his chin.
So, when they decided to take a break and return to their respective spots on the beach, he started asking questions, such as where she was staying and with whom. Venice by the Sea, with her parents and younger sister, she said, which led Walt to believe that her family was well fixed, for the beachfront Venice by the Sea was one of the resort's most exclusive hotels, commanding prices upwards of four-hundred dollars a night in peak season. Walt and his buddies stayed at the Sun-n-Sand, a typical motel dating from the 1960s, a block off the beach and affordable for college kids like Walt and his friends.
He learned other things about her as the water lapped up around their ankles and calves. She lived in suburban Philadelphia, was just out of high school and she'd soon be on her way to the University of Miami for freshman year. "Don't be fooled by its party school reputation," she said. "You can actually get a good education there. At least that's what my cousin, who's an engineering student there, says."
Walt knew about party schools, for he too went to one, Western Maryland's Frostburg State. "Fun in the sun versus fun in the ice," he joked, in reference to Frostburg's frigid winter weather.
"I'll take the sun," she said. "Ice and snow aren't my thing."
"What is your thing?"
"Well, bodysurfing, of course, and a few other things."
"Like what?"
"Oh, I don't know, like Taylor Swift, watching sunsets, baseball, romance novels, just to name a few. You?"
"Bruce Springsteen, NFL football, surfing videos and watching hot chicks in bikinis bodysurf."
She pointed to herself. "You're not referring to me, are you?"she asked coyly.
"I absolutely am referring to you."
She laughed. "Thanks. You're not the first guy who's found me hot, but you might be one of the hottest guys who ever said so." Her eyes perused his body, buffed and toned. "Anyway, this hot chick is going to take a breather. It was nice meeting you, Walt."
"Will I see you again?"
She hesitated, then pointed to an umbrella a few yards up the beach. "My family is up there. You're welcome to stop by and say hello. We should be here for at least another hour or so."
'This could be awkward,' Walt thought, while heading back to his own spot on the beach. Ideally, Stephanie would be here with two girlfriends instead of her family. Even better, there would be mutual attraction between them and his friends—the perfect setup for the perfect vacation. If only...
"Go ahead, dude, make time with her," Chad said after Walt told them about his impromptu meeting.
Dennis, the habitual punster, said, "A collision course with destiny."
