Out of Office Reply is Associate Editor Taylor Paul’s column on surf travel, big waves, and other manly bits
I don’t want to disappoint you. I know how much you hate Chas Smith, so I’m not going to bother you with my honest opinion of the guy. Can you imagine how bored you’d be if you learned that Chas is actually awesome? Exclamation points and all! SURFING’s traffic and comments would slow. All the drama gone. Like learning the school bully cried during Up. Well, I’m not taking that away from us. Chas is awful.
Me and super-hip Charlie Smith have road tripped up the California coast for a story (no surfers or photogs — I know, right?) about mixing my big-wave cold-blooded shoestring-traveler corest of the core (ever heard of Maverick’s?) vibe with Chas’ homo vibe. He might actually be gay. Yeah, he’s got his wife’s signature (Circe Wallace, the Ari Gold of snow/skate) tatted on his neck, but I think it’s a front. Like how Ke$ha uses the synthesizer to hide her whiny “we R who we RRR” voice. Eff, I’ve regressed to Ke$ha similes. We’ve been listening to top-40 sounds non-stop cannot stop. 9.03 to 102.7 to 103.3 to 102.5 to 92.7 (The Revolution). Chas knows all of the lame words to all of the lame songs and sings them without shame. Get some f–cking shame, man.
You should see his behavior in public — dry-humping a resting elephant seal at a state park we didn’t pay to enter. And in private — spitting out Brut champagne at my parents’ house in Santa Cruz, demanding Veuve Clicquot after my mom proposed a toast “to our son and his new friend.”
The haughty f–k is sitting next to me right now. He’s wearing his vintage 1971 Rolex, slicked blond hair and Yves Saint Laurents propped up next to the fire in our suite in Sonoma. So smug. His propensity to consume will ruin us all. Chas is the worst. Welp, off to the hot tub! —Taylor Paul
Taylor Paul is SURFING’s Associate Editor. He wrote the Fergal Smith profile in this month’s Europe Issue and is currently in a car or a lineup somewhere along Highway 1 with Chas Smith.