By Dale Widner I was so happy to be getting it! I'd been surfing only a couple of months, and was going without one. The water never did warm up much that summer. Anyway, as Fall approached I knew I'd better get one. I had already done a little research, so I felt prepared to take on the task in a forthright and professional manner.

For a big ticket item like a wetsuit, I knew it would be wise to compare prices, styles and sizes. A surf shop close to my home was at the top of my list. I was hoping to buy from this shop if I could, just in case there were any warranty issues - then the source of resolution would be close at hand. My plan was to start there with the short list of suits I'd compiled, a product of my exhaustive research. Once I found the cheapest price for the desired size, brand and style, I would go back to the original shop and ask if they would match it. Not bad for a barney, eh?

I began the day with a stop at the closest shop. This particular shop is rather small. Actually, cramped would better describe it. The wetsuits, along with everything else, are tightly jammed into their respective places. This made browsing a little less covert than I'd hoped. I had to actually take each one off the rack to look at it, because there wasn't any room to push others aside to quickly glance at them. The retail girl wanted to be helpful, but I told her "no thanks." She was pretty young, and I knew what I was looking for. Besides, I didn't want to be pressured into buying, or hear a bunch of baloney about products. After all, I had done extensive research, and already knew which ones looked the coolest!

So, I picked out a couple to try on. The salesgirl did give me some advice about sizes, because I was unclear on that. I took them to the changing room in the back. To call it a room is being very generous. There was no door on it, only a curtain. I suppose this was good since it was so small. When you stretched out your arm you pushed out the curtain. Had a door been there, I'm not sure how you could have done it. The hinges were still in place, indicating there once had been a door affixed. Likely, some poor dolt got tangled up in a wetsuit, couldn't get out of it, ended up with a sever case of cramps, the door had to be cut away with a chainsaw, and he sued! Just a guess, but I could almost imagine it happening. OK, it's a bit of a stretch, but it made me chuckle.

Well, here I was in the "room." I peeled off my clothes and hung them on the little hook. Even though I'm not very big, I barely had enough room to slither into the wetsuit. Of course, what I did could hardly be called slithering. You see, this was my first time. Yes, I had never even put one on before now. After several minutes of uncomfortable contortionist-like movements, I had both legs in and the suit pulled up around my waist. Problem: I was wearing boxers and they were all scrunched up along the sides and it looked really stupid. I tried to push them down. No dice. The mirror was outside the changing room, and I wasn't going to step out there looking stupid whatever the cost. So, I did the unthinkable, I took them off and put the suit back on. The retail girl suggested that before I put the suit on all the way, that I come out so she could check the length of the legs etc., to make sure I had the right size. Good idea, because something still didn't feel quite right. I suspected it was the fit. I was, after all, knowledgeable about these things. So I stepped out.

She looked at me kind of puzzled for a moment, and then kindly asked me to pull it on the rest of the way. A few people were now in the store and glanced over just as I got my arms in. Like an old pro, I grabbed the zipper leash and had it most of the way up when it occurred to me I had it on backwards! Had to be, 'cause I'd never seen a zipper in the front, and I couldn't imagine what the pads behind my knees were for.

A peal of laughter reverberated through the store. I couldn't blame her; she was not a mature woman who you might expect to be completely professional, and it must have looked a little funny. Someone else in the store laughed too, but before I could see who that immature person might be, I had already shoe-horned myself back into the changing closet (let's be honest and call it what it really was).

This time I got it right. I came out and checked the mirror, moved around, and she checked the fit. It was not exactly what I was looking for and I didn't quite like the fit. So, back in the closet for the next one.

With this one, I was far more careful regarding its orientation relative to my body. I noticed it was getting easier to pull on due to the profuse sweat running down the length of my appendages. "Why doesn't this store have air conditioning?" I mumbled to myself. But it was still a struggle before I got into it. I could tell right away that this was the one! I stepped out and she looked it over and said it looked good. She secured the neck strap and asked me to move around in it. It felt great. The fit seemed perfect! As I moved about, I knew that sometime before the end of this day, I would be taking this black and dark blue wetsuit home. I was pumped! This suit was made for me and now my search would be easy. My plans were bearing fruit.

I asked her the price, and she read it off the tag. Then I asked if she could come down, and she asked what I had in mind. Oh great! I didn't have anything in mind, because I didn't know what they might cost elsewhere. So, I just said I would think about it. Brilliant! My plans were slipping from my grip.

I wedged myself back into the closet to change into my clothes. Just outside the door, er - curtain, I could hear the salesgirl helping another customer. I had the wetsuit down around my knees and was attempting to get my first foot past the tapered leg end when she asked me through the curtain if everything was all right. That's when disaster struck. In that one moment of distraction, I lost my balance, fell headlong through the curtain and landed front and center on the floor in front of her and some customers - left leg still in the suit up to the knee, right foot trapped in rubber too. There I was, wet with sweat and, except for the wetsuit around my lower legs, au natural (you have to say this with the right inflection, kind of French like).

Now things were not going according to plan at all. I had figured on using my sophisticated shopping techniques to obtain the best buy on the wetsuit of my choice. And now here I lay on the floor mostly naked (and red I presume) and humiliated for a second time!

That's when I heard someone say, "He's not wearing his underwear!"

It only took a moment - a tick of the atomic clock - to size up the situation, consider my options of lurching back for the broom closet (you read right, BROOM closet). Hastily, I jumped up and grabbed the curtain, pulling it off the hooks and ripping it in the process. There I stood, the ripped curtain on the floor, and my feet stuck in the suit legs all while trying to hold the rest of the suit around me. I looked into the bare changing cupboard (which is still a generous description) and wondered what I was going to do now. Of course, the retail girl wasn't much help. She was rolling on the floor laughing, as was everyone else within my immediate sight.

With what little dignity I could muster -- enough to suit the occasion anyway -- I picked up the curtain, wrapped it around me, gathered my clothes and said, "I think I'll take it, and a box won't be necessary. I'm just going to wear it home."

After reaching a considerable crescendo, the laughter subsided, and we headed for the checkout counter. Tears still streamed down her cheeks as she said, "that whole episode was easily worth a 15% discount, and you can keep the curtain!"

I paid the lady, strode out to my truck, attired as I was in my new curtain and tangled wetsuit, and went home.

Now I shop exclusively by mail.