He paddles smoothly and calmly into the surf off the Myrtle Beach shoreline. His turquoise and robin egg blue surfboard glides over the water with the ease of a Great White shark. The salty ocean spray gently rests along his sun-highlighted, beach blond, shaggy hair. With his eagle sharp grass green eyes, he scans the restless watery expanse for one, heavenly wave. His hands cup the water, propelling him through the ocean like a barracuda; this action, perfected each time he ventures past the tourist filled beaches, is streamlined to the point where he is a smoothly purring engine. Remembering his last attempt and death defying crash, worry pricks him, causing butterflies to reach Mach-1 in his stomach. Here it comes though, a roaring watery barricade looming taller than a five-story house ready to consume him and his surfboard in one gulp. Without letting the butterflies gain complete control, he steps toward the board’s front; each toe is meticulously placed grip the board for his tango with the wave. Slowly gaining confidence, he stretches his arms to balance precariously on the board. As he listens to the intensely growing wave roll closer, all nervousness flees his body, and he reverts to his instincts, flying along the a-frame wave. With a laughing shout, he emerges, leaving all butterflies to splash in the wave’s aftermath.