On this day, we were sure we could get a great ride. To hit it right, you had to time it like a surfer looking for the right wave, and tread water until the right wave went in. I recall you had to swim out about twenty or thirty yards away from the seawall. When the time was right, you would swim like hell to a spot where the reflexive wave going back out would collide with an incoming wave, and the result would rocket you about 10 or 15 feet into the air!
It was one HELL of a ride, but it was largely a matter of luck, and sometimes when you went out, you might only hit it one or two times in a few hours of trying. On this day, I went so high it scared the crap out of me, but that wasn't the scariest part.
There were big, rolling waves, and the tide was allowing a thin strip of the beach to show in front of the seawall, which meant it was no good anymore. As I was coming in, I tried to body surf in, and a wave got me. It ground me into the gritty sand and wouldn't let go. I began to feel the edge of panic, when I finally got free and popped up, and the next wave grabbed me and did the same thing.
I felt completely helpless, and that scared me. When I came up again, my feet were touching the sand, and I realized my bathing suit had been ripped right off of me. I had no swimming trunks!
To a twelve year old boy, the concept of walking out of the water onto the beach with no bathing suit was daunting, and I was yelling at my friend that my suit was gone, and with a big grin on the thin beach, he was holding them up in his hand above his head! I waded in and he taunted me with them for a few seconds, then waded out and handed them to me.
When I got ashore, there was a large hole in the seat of the trunks, and I had a two inch bleeding, deep strawberry on my right buttock!