You want to feel real? Drive 10 hrs for a one-day surf or travel across the Pacific to inhale Mex.
I got some pals for whom everything is too hard. Everything is too cold, too hot, too big, too small, too far. Everything for these reprobates has to be…just right for 'em to loose 'emselves on the world.
Let's zoom in on this behaviour.
You see a foot-dump heading for the mountains, six hours drive away, and y'say: Let's go!
"But it's too far for one day!" they say, their squishy bones squishing deeper into a couch aligned perfectly with a large-screen television.
Another pal is getting married in Vegas (and I'm writing this from Australia) but work ain't going to swallow a mid-year one-week vacation.
"Let's go for the weekend!" ya holler. "Thirty six hours on the ground. It's all ya need."
"Uh, no. I'll be too tired."
A south is hitting Mex. You've got flyer points. You've got five days up your sleeve. What, it's going to cost a little cash? You can't spend it when you're mouldering in the grave. Fly! Take it!
And there's the six-foot swell that's about to light up Cloudbreak. I know a guy who can pick us up in a boat from the canal behind the airport and, if we leave Sydney at ten am, we can catch the last hour of sun at the world's best lefthander.
"Uh, I have a barbecue on that weekend. It's my gal's birthday. Etc, etc."
Listen up: we get 70 or so orbits of the sun. The last 20 ain't so pretty. The first 50 are our money-makers.
If you don't chase, eat, love and surf now, soon it'll all be gone.
Get real. Forget tired.