“Turns out I can dance on the board,” the instructor said with a serious face… even though five seconds earlier I had just fallen in a way that no law of physics could explain.

That morning, I arrived full of confidence. In my head, “This is easy, you just stand on the board.” Even before getting into the water, I was already imagining myself looking cool, hair blowing in the wind, like in a movie.

The instructor began giving directions, “When the wave comes, stand up… relax… and let your body follow.”

I nodded confidently. In my mind: I was born for this.

The first wave came.

I stood up… for half a second.

Then my left foot went right, my hands went up, my body twisted a bit… and suddenly—splash! I hit the water with a dramatic sound that probably startled the birds.

I came up laughing awkwardly. The instructor clapped.

“Good! That was… freestyle.”

“Freestyle?” I asked, confused.

“Yes, a combination of salsa, yoga, and a little bit of panic,” he said casually.

Second attempt.

I stood up again. This time longer… maybe two seconds. But then the board started wobbling, and somehow my hands moved like I was swatting mosquitoes in the air. My feet started “dancing” on their own—not because I was good, but because I was trying not to fall.

The instructor shouted from behind,
“See! I told you… you can dance on the board!”

I shouted back,
“This isn’t dancing! This is survival!”

And… splash! I fell again.

After falling a few more times, I finally realized… maybe the instructor was right. It really was “dancing”—but an emergency version, where every movement wasn’t about style… but about saving myself from falling too quickly.

At the end of the session, I sat on the beach—tired, soaked, but laughing to myself.

Turns out… I really can dance on the board.

Even though… the only audience was the waves, and they never stopped laughing at me. 🌊😄