Smell-Segundo

Nestled between the charmed amenities of Chevron’s Southern California Oil Refinery, LA’s Hyperion Water Treatment Plant, and the notorious LAX, El Segundo is the premier place to live as a surfer who absolutely hates surfing and themself.

Think about it! We surf for lots of reasons. We surf to connect back with nature. What better way to do that than in the tar-infested, sewage-smelling rain-soaked waters between Manhattan and Playa del Rey where the sand on the beach could easily be mistaken for microplastics? We surf for good consistent exercise. What better way to do that than by being in a place that gets under 10 good surfing days a year? (even that is generous). Where in recent summers, most of the time, there isn’t even enough sand for a wave to break! We surf to find inner peace. And boy oh boy, what better way to reconnect with that inner calm than by getting dropped in on by a kook, snaked a middle-aged burn out who still thinks he’s training for an NSSA, yelled at by an old-timer, or hounded by an elite pack of groms trained by the one-and-only WagSurf (legend), all to catch a couple closeouts and maybe get off an end section turn.

But hey! At least it’s cheaper than surrounding neighborhoods. Absolutely! Mind the smell. From the water treatment plant? Could be the oil refinery! Are the windows shaking? Just a jumbo jet. At least the food’s good. Well, eh. Oh, what’s that? Home Ownership is still a cool two million dollars here too? Well, at least . . . At least we won Little League! No, no, I don’t have kids. Do you think I could afford that? Only get so many surfing days as it is anyway. Jesus, man. No, catch me at the tiki bar getting my ass handed to me in pool. That is, at least until the tech company I work for replaces me with AI. Then you’ll find me somewhere equally smelly, but don’t worry, I’ve prepared for the transition.

Thanks to Smell-Segundo! (I haven’t surfed in a couple of weeks. Can you tell it's getting to me?)