Going to college in Florida was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. A 3/2 is the most you’ll be wearing, there’s always plenty of chicks in bikinis, there’s always somewhere to go drink, and there’s also some damn good fishing. Upon returning to Florida after four months of starting anew in California, things picked up right where they left off, and it was like I never even left. And with that comes the one nuisance of being in Florida: the surf ‘picks up.’

While Florida is being ‘graced’ with two-three foot mushburgers, a thousand miles up the coast New Jersey is seeing a solid swell. Then the phone calls start from the boys at home: “Hey Ry, it’s been pretty fun up here. Chest to head with some little barrels here and there. What’s it like down there? Any fun ones?” As friends inform me about their current sessions, down here the wind has got a lot of north in it and the current is whipping down the beach, while the surf is dribbling in. Damn it.

Then the photos come and it’s frustration and despair all over again. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years spent in Florida it’s that, unless you’re at some of the primo spots down there, when Florida gets swell it’s ok, and when Jersey gets swell it gets good. I’ve probably just nixed any chance for myself of getting any waves while I’m in New Jersey for only a week this spring, but so be it. And while I’m back I bet Florida will be seeing the swell of a lifetime. I guess that’s just how it goes sometimes.