Crazy uber stories: The kite-surfer from Kenosha

Here’s a story I heard from a passenger I picked up in Carlsbad, California north of San Diego. He was originally from Kenosha but had a dream of becoming a champion kite-surfer. One time he arranged a ride-share from Kenosha to San Diego to help defray his expenses. What happened next is insane:

“Janice Ellyvaster,” I muttered into my cellphone as I paced back and forth in front of the Speedway gas station. “6 PM sharp, right? Great, see you then.”

I pocketed the phone and glanced around the station, taking in the smell of gasoline and stale hot dogs. It wasn’t exactly a five-star resort, but it was the agreed meeting spot for our shared ride to San Diego.

“Here’s to hoping Janice isn’t some axe murderer,” I thought to myself while leaning against a column plastered with advertisements for discount cigarettes.

As the clock struck six, instead of the petite blonde woman I had imagined, a 6-foot tall East Indian guy with a bushy beard and wearing a turban strutted towards me. His confident stride seemed more suited for a runway than a gas station parking lot.

“Excuse me,” he said in a deep voice that resonated through the air, “are you waiting for Janice?”

“Uh, yeah,” I replied, squinting up at him suspiciously, “who are you?”

“Ah, delightful!” he exclaimed, ignoring my mistrust. “My name is Pritak. Janice, unfortunately, cannot make it today. She asked me to take her place.”

“Wha—Janice sent you?” I stammered, trying to wrap my head around the situation.

“Indeed! We met at a yoga class. I am a well-trained yogi, you see,” he boasted, puffing out his chest. “Janice mentioned your trip to San Diego, and since I also happen to be headed there, she thought I could be of assistance.”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “You’re telling me that Janice, a woman I’ve never met before, decided to send a total stranger on a road trip with me? And not just any stranger, but a 6-foot tall yogi named Pritak?”

“Exactly!” he beamed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Now let us embark on our journey, my new friend.”

“Absolutely not,” I retorted, taking a step back. “I don’t know you from Adam, and there’s no way I’m letting you drive me halfway across the country.”

“Ah, but I assure you, I am an excellent driver. And quite the conversationalist as well. We will have a grand time!” he insisted, gesturing grandly toward my car.

“Look, Pritak,” I sighed, rubbing my temples in frustration. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll pass on sharing a ride with someone who just waltzed up to me at a gas station.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged nonchalantly, starting to walk away. “But just remember, Janice did send me for a reason.”

“Fine,” I grumbled as he disappeared into the crowd. “Hope she has a good explanation for this.”

“Okay, okay,” I muttered under my breath, trying to shake the nagging feeling that I was missing something important. It wasn’t like I had a ton of options, and with the Orange Beach Kite-Surfing Festival starting in just two days, I couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

“Alright, Pritak,” I called out, jogging over to where he stood grinning like a Cheshire cat. “You’ve got yourself a deal. But if you try anything funny, I swear I’ll toss you out of the car faster than you can say ‘yoga.'”

“Excellent, my friend!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. “I promise you, our journey will be one for the ages.”

As we set off down the highway, Pritak regaled me with stories of his adventures around the world. And while I couldn’t deny that he was, as he’d claimed, quite the conversationalist, I couldn’t help but feel a little on edge. After all, who knew what this mysterious yogi had up his sleeve?

“By the way, Pritak,” I said casually, trying not to betray my anxiety. “Why exactly are you headed to San Diego?”

“Ah, well, it’s a bit of a long story,” he replied evasively, his eyes darting nervously to the side. “But suffice it to say, there is someone there I must meet.”

“Someone important?” I pressed, hoping for a little more information.

“Very important,” he confirmed, nodding solemnly. “But enough about me. Tell me, what brings you to the great city of San Diego?”

“Ah, well, that’s an easy one,” I said with a grin, my mind already drifting to visions of sun-drenched beaches and crashing waves. “I’m heading there to defend my national championship at the Orange Beach Kite-Surfing Festival.”

“Ah, a champion of the waves!” Pritak exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with admiration. “I am truly honored to share this journey with you.”

“Thanks,” I replied, feeling a little sheepish. “But really, it’s just a fun way to blow off some steam and reconnect with some old friends.”

“Still,” Pritak insisted, “it is an impressive feat, and one that speaks to your dedication and skill.”

“Alright, alright,” I relented, laughing despite myself. “I guess it is kind of a big deal.”

As we sped down the open road, I couldn’t help but marvel at the strange turn my life had taken in the past few hours. Who would’ve guessed that a chance encounter at a gas station would lead me to embark on a wild adventure with a 6-foot tall yogi? But as we raced toward San Diego and the promise of defending my national championship, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, fate had something incredible in store for us both.

We zipped through the arid landscape of Colorado, my trusty Jeep humming along as Pritak regaled me with stories of his travels in Indonesia. His tales were filled with colorful characters and wild adventures, the kind that made me feel like I was living a boring life, despite my national championship. But as we crossed into another timezone, a sudden thought slammed into me like a rogue wave.

“Wait a second,” I blurted out, slamming on the brakes, leaving a cloud of dust in our wake. “Where’s my surfboard?!”

“Your what now?” Pritak asked, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

“My surfboard! It’s not on top of the Jeep!” I exclaimed, my heart racing. How could I possibly defend my title without my trusty board?

“Ah, no need to worry, my friend,” Pritak said, a sly grin spreading across his face. “I just so happen to know a thing or two about crafting surfboards.”

“Seriously?” I asked skeptically, eyeing him up and down. Sure, he was tall and seemed like a capable guy, but a surfboard craftsman?

“Indeed, I learned from a master carver during my time in Bali,” Pritak replied, puffing out his chest proudly. “Why don’t we find a suitable tree by the roadside, and I’ll show you?”

“Alright,” I sighed, feeling desperate and out of options. “But it better be good.”

“Trust me,” Pritak said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You won’t be disappointed.”

As we drove along, scouring the countryside for a suitable tree, I couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of excitement and trepidation. Could this impromptu solution really save my chances at the Kite-Surfing Festival? Or was I about to embark on a wild goose chase that would end in disaster?

“Ah-ha!” Pritak cried out suddenly, pointing at a sturdy-looking tree just off the road. “That one will do nicely.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice wavering slightly. “It looks like someone’s property.”

“Trust me,” Pritak repeated, his grin never wavering. “By the time I’m done with it, no one will even recognize it as a tree.”

With that cryptic statement, he leaped from the Jeep and sprinted toward the tree, his long legs covering the distance in no time. As I watched him begin to work his magic, I couldn’t help but wonder if this impromptu ally would truly be able to deliver on his promise – or if my entire journey was about to come crashing down around me.

With a swift, powerful swing of his makeshift axe, Pritak felled the tree in one clean stroke. I blinked in disbelief as it crashed to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust and debris. “Wow,” I muttered, impressed despite myself. “You weren’t kidding about those Indonesian woodworking skills.”

“Who needs a chainsaw when you have this much raw talent?” Pritak asked, smugly admiring his handiwork. He set to work on the fallen tree with an intensity that was almost frightening, stripping off its branches and whittling away its bark with surprising speed. Soon, the shape of a surfboard began to emerge.

“Isn’t that a little… rough?” I questioned hesitantly, eyeing the un-sanded edges and uneven surface.

“Authenticity, my friend!” Pritak grinned. “I guarantee it’ll be the most original surfboard at the festival!”

As we strapped the newly-crafted surfboard onto the roof of my Jeep, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched. I glanced around nervously, but saw nothing out of the ordinary – until a flash of blue and red caught my eye.

“Uh, Pritak…” I said slowly, my heart beginning to race. “Is that a police officer on a motorbike?”

“Relax,” Pritak scoffed, not even bothering to look. “They’re probably just patrolling the area. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Except chop down someone’s tree and create a surfboard from it without permission!” I hissed through gritted teeth. “That’s got to be some kind of environmental crime!”

“Trust me,” he said for the third time, his grin now laced with a hint of desperation. “Everything will be fine.”

But as the officer’s motorbike roared to life and began speeding toward us, I knew that “fine” was a far cry from our current predicament. The chase was on, and our journey to the Kite-Surfing Festival had just taken another unexpected detour.

“Drive!” Pritak yelled. “Drive like the wind!”

“Thanks for the advice, Captain Obvious!” I snapped back, flooring the accelerator of the Jeep. As we raced down the highway with the police officer in hot pursuit, my mind whirled with fear, anxiety, and disbelief. How had I gone from defending my national championship at the Orange Beach Kite-Surfing Festival to becoming an unwitting accomplice in a surfboard-making crime spree?

“Any bright ideas now, Indiana Jones?” I asked Pritak.

“Keep driving,” he replied. “We’ll lose him eventually.”

“Sure, because outrunning the police always works out well in the movies,” I muttered, my hands gripping the wheel so tightly they were turning white. “Here’s hoping our next adventure involves less tree-chopping and more actual kite-surfing!”

“Ten and two, ten and two,” I muttered to myself, hands gripping the steering wheel as if it were a lifeline. “Remember your driver’s ed training.”

“Watch out!” Pritak shouted, jolting me from my frantic thoughts. I swerved just in time to avoid an elderly couple in a vintage convertible, complete with matching sunhats and an air of confusion.

“Sorry!” I yelled, though I doubted they could hear me over the roar of the pursuing police officer’s motorbike. The siren blared like a vengeful banshee, reminding me that our eco-crime spree hadn’t gone unnoticed. At this rate, I’d never make it to the Orange Beach Kite-Surfing Festival, let alone defend my national championship.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Pritak demanded, his eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the road ahead.

“Are you kidding? This old Jeep can barely keep up with a bicycle!” I replied, my heart pounding in my chest. The police officer was gaining on us, and I knew we had to do something desperate to shake him off our tail.

“Okay, new plan,” Pritak said, his determined gaze settling on the horizon. “Turn left at the next junction. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” I scoffed. “You’re the reason we’re in this mess!”

“Look, either we try something, or we get caught. Your call!”

“Fine!” I snapped, yanking the wheel to the left and veering onto a dusty side road. We were now heading straight for the Salt Flats, which stretched out before us like a barren wasteland of white and beige.

“Perfect,” Pritak whispered, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Now, floor it!”

“Again with the great advice!” I rolled my eyes but followed his command, pushing the accelerator to the limit. The Jeep shuddered beneath us, protesting its treatment as we sped across the desolate landscape.

“Brace yourself!” Pritak warned, and I barely had time to register his words before I felt a sudden jolt. Our makeshift surfboard had snapped free from its precarious position on the roof, skidding across the Salt Flats and leaving a trail of splinters in its wake.

“Are you insane?” I yelled, watching in horror as the police officer’s motorbike zoomed closer and closer to the runaway surfboard.

“Watch and learn, my friend,” Pritak replied. Just as the officer reached the surfboard, it flipped up at the perfect angle to create a ramp, launching him skyward in a cloud of dust and disbelief.

“Wow” was all I could manage as the police officer soared through the air like some sort of Evel Knievel wannabe. He produced a rope seemingly out of nowhere and skillfully lassoed it around an outcropping of rock at the edge of Canyonlands National Park. With a graceful swing, he landed safely on the other side.

“Did you see that?” I gasped, still unable to believe what had just happened.

“Of course,” Pritak boasted. “I planned it all along.”

“Right,” I said, not entirely convinced. But with adrenaline pumping through my veins, I figured it was best to keep moving. We continued our high-speed journey toward the Orange Beach Kite-Surfing Festival, leaving the chaos of our makeshift ramp behind us.

“Pull over,” I suddenly blurted out, feeling the pressure in my bladder reach a critical point. Years of competitive kite-surfing had taught me never to ignore nature’s call – especially when I was about to defend my national championship title.

“Are you serious?” Pritak asked incredulously.

“Deadly,” I replied, clenching my teeth and squeezing my legs together for emphasis. “Now, please.”

“Fine,” Pritak grumbled, pulling the Jeep onto the shoulder. I practically leaped out of the vehicle, scrambling toward a nearby bush for some modicum of privacy.

“Ah,” I sighed in relief as I finally relieved myself. The sound of trickling liquid was like music to my ears. But as I enjoyed this brief moment of tranquility, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off.

“Hey, Pritak!” I called out, zipping up and turning back toward the car. “Do you hear that? It sounds like…the engine revving?”

“Yep!” came Pritak’s voice from inside the Jeep. “See you later, buddy!”

“Wait! What are you –” I stammered, my eyes going wide as the Jeep’s tires kicked up dirt and gravel, leaving me in a cloud of dust.

“PRITAAAAAAK!” I screamed, my voice cracking with fury and disbelief. No surfboard, no ride, and now I was stranded in the middle of nowhere. The odds were stacking against me, but I couldn’t let this betrayal stop me from defending my title. I balled my fists, gritted my teeth, and vowed to find a way – any way – to make it to that festival in time.

“Game on, Pritak,” I muttered, determination fueling my every step as I began my trek across the desolate landscape. “Game on.”

I trudged through the desert, cursing Pritak’s very existence, when an old, sun-bleached newspaper tumbled across my path like some twisted harbinger of doom. I snatched it up, eager for a distraction from my blistered feet and dwindling water supply.

“International Drug Smuggler Wanted In Nine Countries,” screamed the headline – with a picture of none other than Pritak grinning back at me. My jaw dropped as I scanned the article, discovering that my supposed travel companion was actually a notorious criminal on the run.

“Son of a…” I muttered, crumpling up the paper. The absurdity of my situation would have been laughable if it weren’t so dire. There I was, stranded in the middle of nowhere, chasing after a wanted felon who had stolen my ride and left me without a surfboard.

My thoughts were interrupted by the distant wail of sirens, growing louder with each passing second. A flurry of police cars raced into view, their blue and red lights painting the desert landscape. It seemed Pritak’s betrayal hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Aw, hell,” I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest. If the cops found me out here alone, they’d undoubtedly assume I was an accomplice. I dove behind a nearby cactus bush, hoping its prickly exterior would provide enough cover to keep me hidden.

“FREEZE!” shouted an officer as the police cars screeched to a halt. I peeked through the thorny branches, careful not to make a sound. A few feet away, Pritak was cornered, his hands raised in surrender.

“Hey, officers,” he stammered, flashing that same charming smile that had fooled me earlier. “This is all just a big misunder–”

“Save it for the judge, buddy” an officer growled, cuffing Pritak and shoving him into the back of a squad car. “We’ve been after you for a long time.”

“Mind if I ask where you found that newspaper?” Pritak asked, still trying to play it cool.

“None of your business,” barked the officer, slamming the car door shut.

As the sirens wailed and the police cars sped off, hauling Pritak and my stolen Jeep away, I let out a shaky breath. Somehow, I had narrowly avoided capture.

“Okay,” I whispered to myself, wiping the sweat from my brow. “Time for Plan B.” If I couldn’t hitch a ride with a charming criminal, then I’d have to find another way to get to the Orange Beach Kite-Surfing Festival – and fast.

“Alright, think,” I muttered to myself. Looking around, I spotted a discarded shirt lying on the ground. Desperation and creativity intertwined in my mind as I realized that this could be my ticket out of here. I snatched up the shirt and quickly began to fashion it into something resembling a kite.

“Come on, come on,” I whispered urgently, my fingers working swiftly to knot and twist the fabric into shape. I glanced over at the scene unfolding nearby – Pritak, handcuffed and surrounded by police officers, was trying to talk his way out of the situation. I couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

“Okay, let’s do this.” With a deep breath, I channeled all my kite-surfing expertise into my makeshift flying machine. I sprinted forward, the shirt-turned-kite billowing behind me. As I built up speed, I leaped into the air, praying that my impromptu contraption would hold up.

“Whoa!” I yelled as the shirt-kite caught an updraft and lifted me off the ground. I soared higher and higher, the wind whipping through my hair and the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“Hey, what’s that up there?” one of the officers shouted, pointing at me. “Is that… the accomplice?”

“Uh, no,” I lied, thinking fast. “I’m just a, uh, professional kite-surfer practicing for the festival. Yeah, that’s right.”

“Really?” The officer squinted at me skeptically, then shrugged. “Well, whatever you’re doing, just don’t interfere with police business.”

“Roger that, officer!” I called back, struggling to maintain control of my shirt-kite as I drifted closer towards my Jeep.

“Nice try, Pritak” I heard another officer say as they apprehended him. “You’re not fooling anyone this time.”

“Wait, what about my surfboard?” Pritak pleaded. “I made it myself!”

“Your surfboard is evidence now,” the officer replied.

“Alright, here goes nothing” I mumbled, preparing for my descent. I angled my shirt-kite just right and began to glide down towards my Jeep. Miraculously, I managed to land gently on the hood, the impact barely making a sound.

“Phew!” I exhaled, my heart pounding in my chest. Now that I had my vehicle back, it was time to make a break for it and continue my journey to the Orange Beach Kite-Surfing Festival.

My heart raced like it had entered the Indy 500, and my palms were slick with sweat. I knew I had to act fast, or I’d end up in handcuffs alongside Pritak.

“Okay, okay” I thought to myself. “Where did I put that spare key?”

I patted down my pockets, feeling more frantic by the second. Aha! There it was, hidden in a secret compartment of my lucky board shorts. I quickly unlocked the Jeep, threw open the door, and hopped behind the wheel.

“Hey!” one officer shouted. “What are you doing in there?”

“Uh… just getting my, um, kite back,” I stammered, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

“Nice try” the officer replied, drawing his gun. “Step out of the vehicle now!”

“Sorry, officer” I muttered under my breath, “but I’ve got a championship to defend.”

As I slammed my foot on the gas, the Jeep roared to life, peeling away from the scene like a bat out of hell. Gunshots rang out behind me, shattering the rear window and leaving a spiderweb pattern across the glass.

“Yikes” I exclaimed, gripping the steering wheel even tighter. “This just went from bad to worse.”

But I couldn’t let them catch me. Not when the Orange Beach Kite-Surfing Festival was on the line. I’d worked too hard, trained too long to let this unexpected detour ruin my shot at glory.

“Come on” I urged myself, weaving in and out of traffic.

The police sirens wailed in the distance, growing fainter as I put mile after mile between us

“Sorry, Janice” I mumbled to myself. “But this ride-along just got a whole lot crazier than we bargained for.”

And with that thought, I pressed down harder on the accelerator, leaving the flashing lights of the police cars behind me, as I sped towards my destiny. San Diego, here I come!

“Man, my butt is flatter than a pancake,” I grumbled, shifting in my seat as the sun dipped low on the horizon. The Orange Beach Kite-Surfing Festival was just within reach, and not a moment too soon.

“Who knew sitting down for so long could be this painful?” I thought, trying to find comfort in my cramped position. “At least the festival will make it all worth it.”

As I pulled into the parking lot, the smell of saltwater and the excited chatter of fellow kite-surfers filled the air. A sea of colorful kites dotted the sky, and the sound of crashing waves beckoned me forward.

“Time to defend my title,” I whispered under my breath, my heart pounding in anticipation.

“Hey, champ!” called out a familiar voice. It was my good ol’ buddy, Todd. He slapped me on the back, a grin plastered across his face. “We were starting to worry you wouldn’t make it!”

“Ha! You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I replied, feigning nonchalance. “Although, you won’t believe the ride I had getting here.”

“Save it for later” Todd said, shaking his head. “Right now, we’ve got a championship to win!”

I surveyed the competition, my eyes narrowing as I spotted a few new faces in the crowd. They looked promising, but I couldn’t let myself be intimidated. Not when I had come so far.

“Alright” I muttered, adjusting my lucky bandana and flexing my fingers. “Let’s do this.”

The wind picked up, whipping my hair around my face as I approached the starting line. My beat up old board – a loaner from Todd  – lay at my feet, ready for action.

“Please don’t give me splinters” I prayed silently.

“Welcome to the Orange Beach Kite-Surfing Festival!” boomed the announcer, his voice echoing through the crowd. “Today, we’ll witness the fiercest competition as our reigning champ defends their title!”

“Here goes nothing” I thought, my pulse quickening with each beat of my heart.

“Surfers, take your positions” ordered the announcer, the tension in the air palpable. “On my mark… 3… 2… 1… GO!”

As the starting horn sounded, I launched myself onto my surfboard, feeling the familiar thrill of adrenaline coursing through me. The ocean spray hit my face, and I tasted the salt on my lips. This was it – the moment I had been waiting for, the culmination of a journey filled with unexpected twists and turns.

“Bring it on” I thought defiantly, riding the waves like a pro. “I didn’t come all this way to lose.”

The cheers of the crowd faded into the background as I focused on the task at hand, determined to prove that I was still the best.

“Let the games begin” I said to myself, grinning from ear to ear.