Come on baby, wait and see, cuz I'm gonna take you surfin' with me

Most of you know the story.

Back when I was young and single and living in Atlanta, I was inspired by the movie Blue Crush and by a super fun surf lesson on the Outer Banks and decided that I would take a surf trip to Costa Rica.  I found a surf camp that did an all-inclusive lessons/board rental/hotel/breakfast deal, found some willing friends, and off we went.

While I was there, I ended up falling for a hot Australian surf instructor.

I ended up marrying him.

It ended up not ending so well.

I was always a sucker for a good story. We had a great story. But it wasn't enough to sustain us.

Anyway.

I still love the beach and the warm and the sun. I love to surf.  But it's been so long. My skills are beyond rusty.

back when I wasn't so rusty

In the throes of my recent crazy work schedule, knowing that I would be crazed until I finished a big federal court oral argument in early February, I decided that after the argument, I would treat myself to a birthday present of a surf trip.

I did some research on locations and plane tickets and decided upon Sayulita, Mexico. I did some more research and found a surf camp there that has a similar deal to the one in Costa Rica - hotel, surf lessons, surf board rental, breakfast.

 I put out the call for people who wanted to come with, but no one was available.

I still waffled a little bit.

Maybe I won't go in February. Maybe I'll go over spring break. Maybe I should save the money on something less frivolous. Maybe I shouldn't travel by myself. Maybe I'll be lonely.

I won that battle with myself. Meaning I decided to do it. I'll go by myself. I'll relax and surf and maybe make friends with other people in my lesson group.

Or not. Maybe I'll just hang out by myself and read and sunbathe and sleep.

Maybe I'll meet some hot guy and have a fling. I mean, it's not exactly unprecedented.

In any event, I found an insanely cheap plane ticket, so I bought it.  I made my surf camp reservation. I'm good to go.

It does feel a little deja vu-ish.  Back to the scene of the crime, so to speak, even though technically the crime occurred in a completely different country.

When I was still in the thinking-about-it-maybe-planning-it stage, I was talking about it with a friend of mine.

"It sounds amazing," she said.

"I know. Surf, sun, relaxation. Total chill-out time. I don't remember the last time I was able to totally relax like that, no kids, no obligations."

"Amazing," she said again.

I nodded.

"Can I give you some advice, though?"

"Sure."

"Don't come back married."

Roger that.