Bodysurfing is the greatest thing ever. It’s fun, it’s easy, and because its biggest devotees are hairy middle aged men, it’s inherently uncool. So uncool, in fact, that it transcends it’s own uncoolosity, and circles back around to become extra cool. It also has a tendency to turn you into a full blown super prick, unless you confine yourself to the handful of “bodysurf only” spots in existence. Battling for waves with only a pair of fins puts you roughly on level with the splayed leg paddle set if you venture into quality surf. The inability to accelerate in order to make sections pushes onto the shoulder, sharing space with the weakest and worst. Shout, jostle, jockey, you’ve gotta show those barneys who’s boss. Unless you’re Mike Stewart and possess the ability to pump and drive through the surf like a fucking dolphin.