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Friday, July 6, 2007

Boxing Bootcamp Day 15 -- Leaping Into The Bay

Posted By on Fri, Jul 6, 2007 at 12:33 PM

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The taste is really what struck me. The saltwater flavor of the Bay seems somehow more potent than it does off San Francisco's Pacific shores. But other added aftertastes seemed to linger. And while I didn't really have the contextual wherewithal to identify what they were, I tried to analyze them as best I could. I thought I tasted metal, for example, which seemed obvious, as well as a hint of gasoline (again, obvious). But also a little, hmm... was that rubber, perhaps? Sidewalk? Urine? Maybe a hint of Formica? Strange thing is, first thing I remember thinking after I climbed out of the bitingly cold, green-tinged piss-water this morning (having forgotten to remove my shirt, having lost all semblance of pride, shivering, my teeth chattering, saying "hghghghghghghggggggfuckiss c-c-cold" only to myself and making other assorted weird noises), I had an abnormal flashback to a couple months ago, the first time I walked past Extreme Pizza on Filmore. It was then that I wondered aloud to a friend, the aforementioned Sexy Bitch, "What would someone put on a really extreme pizza?" She answered: "Golf balls, maybe? Socks? Tweezers? Banana peels?" But that was wrong.

No, a truly extreme pizza dives into the waters of the Bay, and then forces itself (because it has been mutated, via pollution, into not only a living thing, but a living thing that likes to bathe in pollution) onto these rocks right here:

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and then to drink shitty beer from this truck:

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Only then can it (again, the pizza) be... truly... extreme(!) or whatever. Took that one way too far. Blame it on the pollution. Regardless:

I did actually jump into the Bay this morning, along with 20 or so fellow boxing friends. This was not self torture, but rather a 3rd Street Gym punishment for being tardy or absent for boxing bootcamp (make your own humorous or nostalgic high school attendance connection here). But! Since I'm a huge and important member of the Liberal Media, I got the Presidential treatment: Instead of taking a pleasant one-foot plunge off a tiny dock like everyone else, I jumped off this here:

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along with some other crazy bastard named John, who dove in head first and yelled while he did it (I, on the contrary, did my best to sssllllide into the water from 15-feet up, and all I could say was "AH!" in a high-pitched falsetto).

It was fun, actually. And there's an element of team building (or whatever) in the Friday Bay dives. Though it's not exactly pleasant to jump into filthy, 50-degree water, nearly everyone has to do it, and so, for a moment every Friday, everyone's a pitiable star. Or, now that I think of it, a hilarious traitor: there's a set of twins in class who, today, before their required Bay leap, revealed that they were wearing wet suits. Simon's reaction: "Absolutely not!" Everyone laughed. And though they were eventually allowed to jump in with their wet suits on, there was some smiling chatter implying: If I've gotta get that nasty fucking water all over my skin, so does everyone else.

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Boxing Bootcamp is a bit of fun orchestrated by 3rd Street Gym, SF Weekly's Matt Stroud, and Rob Quintiliani from the SF Bay Guardian; the fun involves Rob and Matt training for 6 weeks before pummeling each other publicly for everyone's amusement. Questions? Write to Matt Stroud.

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Matt Stroud

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