Today I discovered a way to slow time. Here's all you do. Take something you really, really love, like surfing. Go for about fourteen days without really doing it. Throw in a couple days that resemble surfing, where you paddle out for about a half hour and only catch about two waves that resemble real waves. Watch movies of translucent aquamarine waves in tropical locations, waves that actually break the way waves are supposed to. Then, when your old boss calls, and asks you to cover someone's shift for the weekend, agree to do it, but only after you check the wave forecast to make sure you won't miss a good day. Then, when that day comes, arrange it so you can come in as close to noon as possible - to insure that you won't miss good surf.
The night before the day you have promised to work, the buoys read eleven feet at eight seconds. Drool with anticipation, and smile at your clever planning. Wake up the next morning, and find the beach is fogged in. You still have time, it's early. You wait. The beach stays fogged in. Two hours before you have to work, the fog lifts to reveal a disorganized mess. You think it's crap, so go into work early. The moment you step foot in the door at work, the wind goes dead offshore and the sun comes out. Spend the next six hours in misery, watching the flag point directly east. Those six hours magically become sixty! Just like that! That's all there is to slowing time.
Defying nature was never so easy.
Now comes the final touch. This is where time plays its own clever trick on you.
Leave work with one hour of daylight left. Drive to the beach as the sun is fading, and watch everyone leaving, exhausted from scoring surf the whole time you worked. Try, in vain, to find a sandbar that will work with the tide filling in. Realize it just isn't going to happen. Paddle out anyway. Catch two half-ass waves, and come in to find you have drifted half a mile down the beach. This is the part where time speeds up. Game over.
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