"For two months every winter, when Pacific storms make landfall, Oahu's paradisical North Shore turns into a fiery hell. Its normal population of sixteen thousand more than triples and this explosion of mainlanders, Brazilians, Australians, and Europeans creates one of the most combustible milieus on earth. Waves, like gold and oil, are a limited resource and, as such, are fiercely fought over by the visiting hoards, the surf industry, other Hawaiian islanders, and North Shore residents. The otherwise sleepy North Shore becomes a lawless, violent, drug-addled, and adrenaline-soaked mecca."--Book jacket flap.

Includes index.

Beirut, Lebanon, 2006 -- The North Shore, Oahu, December 2009 -- Birds, boats, and past loves. Or, From Beirut to Bondi -- The thoughts your actions entertain. Or, My first impression -- There ain't no motive for this crime. Or, Welcome to paradise -- I know you are the one, yeah. Or, We can collide -- Addicted to a certain kind of sadness. Or, l don't even need your love -- Everything about this is real. Or, A history -- The joy formidable. Or, Here we are, in the dark -- No one laughs at God. Or, It ain't my backyard -- Don't you want to share the guilt? Or, Waves are oil; an interlude -- Fade into darkness. Or, Eddie -- Girls, we run this motherfucker. Or, A wander and an explanation -- You said that you could let it go. Or, A contest -- I found a wallet. Or, Back to town -- I let the bad ones in and the good ones go. Or, He wasn't here for a long time; he was here for a good time -- He came from the south of Sweden, he spoke just like a Dane. Or, V-co -- You are not invisible now, you just don't exist. Or, Surf houses: an interlude -- And now your world is here, watch it disappear. Or, Kai Garcia is a Zen thug. Or, Full consumption -- Let's go to the beach, each. Let's go get a wave. Or, Let's do this one last time -- Burn them bridges down to the ground because I won't be coming this way again. Or, a postscript.