Tubular Belle

Though it was not yet 6:30 a.m., Kelly was already tracking the waves via the Weather Channel and had placed numerous phone calls to his surfing buddies around the island. In his estimation, the swells were coming in too big on the North Shore, which is home to the Banzai Pipeline, Waimea Bay, Back Doors, Sunset Beach and other legendary surf spots. So, at Kelly's urging, three vans full of photographers, makeup artists and assistants packed up for Waikiki Beach on the other side of the island, an hour and a half away through traffic.

During the drive Kelly ruminated on a bygone Valentine's Day, when he introduced surfing to another woman who looks pretty good in a two-piece. "Pam was really uptight," he said. "She was afraid of the waves, of hitting the bottom, of the board hitting her—just very nervous in general. That's how most first-timers are."

If the North Shore is a vision of what Hawaii can be—pristine beaches, black lava flows tumbling into the seas—then Waikiki is a caricature of tourist hell. Michelle and Kelly looked like prototypes for some higher species amid the doughy mainlanders, who were busy peeling off their I GOT LEI'D T-shirts and slathering SPF 60 on their pasty flesh. Doing the cat walk down bustling Kalakuau Avenue on her way to Kelly's favorite slice of beach, Michelle finally seemed to grasp the magnitude of what she had gotten herself into. "I'm not nervous, just a bit apprehensive," she said. Pause.... "Well, O.K., I'm a bit nervous." Pause. "I gotta be honest, I'm s- - - - - - -bricks here."

Kelly was more sanguine. Waxing up his board, he told her, "No problem, you'll be up on the first wave, guaranteed."

Just to be sure, Kelly had brought along a buddy to serve as his wingman—Russ Keaulana, a former world longboard champion. For starters Russ and Kelly held a surfboard in waist-high water and placed Michelle atop it, introducing her to some rudimentary footwork. A crowd of curious beachcombers gathered, and to them Michelle must have looked like a gorgeous garnish adorning a fiberglass hors d'ouevre tray. Michelle showed impressive agility while Kelly and Russ jiggled the board to simulate wave action, but at one point she tumbled off and tweaked a knee. Though she never uttered a peep, Michelle spent the next few minutes wincing and flexing her knee. "I was deathly afraid it was going to be all swollen and ugly," she said later, and with good reason. A swimsuit model with a puffy knee is about as useful as a running back with a torn ACL.

Thankfully, neither Michelle nor her knee became overly inflamed, and after 15 more minutes of instruction she and Kelly paddled out to sea, sharing a longboard. A few hundred yards off shore the waves were breaking gently at a height of three feet, perfect for a beginner; the plan was for Kelly to ride with Michelle and steer the board, so all she had to do was worry about getting on her feet and staying there. On the first wave Michelle had barely gotten off her toned tummy and onto her feet when she plunged into the drink, doing a little scissors kick in midair, a la Sergio Garcia. Michelle began the second wave holding on to Kelly for dear life. He managed to coax her to her feet for a few beats, but the moment she let go of him, she got rinsed. On wave number three Michelle tried to get up without any help and suffered the consequences, a heroic wipeout that sent Kelly sprawling as well.

Michelle was underwater for a long couple of seconds before bobbing to the surface 20 feet from Kelly. She was flailing wildly and looking, for the first time, a little panicky. Kelly paddled over briskly and, in his suavest Baywatch move, lifted her onto the board. "I knew she wasn't going to drown," he said later, "but I was worried she'd take in a mouthful of water, and that wouldn't have been good." What with Michelle's low-sodium diet and all.

Finally, on the fourth wave, Kelly helped Michelle to her feet, and they got a good ride, easily 10 seconds long, that ended with both of them raising their arms in triumph. They did it again on the next wave, and then things got a little zany. Russ dropped in on the same wave as Michelle and Kelly, and, as they were riding next to each other, Kelly picked up his unsuspecting partner and handed her to Russ, who just kept on surfing, with Michelle clinging to him. Several waves later, Kelly surprised Michelle by slinging her over his shoulder in a cool me-Tarzan-you-Jane move.

This levity was punctured by screaming sirens and the whirring of a helicopter. Someone had called in a shark sighting, and Honolulu's finest turned out en masse to investigate. Kelly, used to such things, pretended not to hear Michelle when she asked about the commotion, and soon enough the killer shark was unmasked as a drifting palm frond. Michelle and Kelly just kept on surfing. When they finally washed ashore, both were giddy from the experience. "When you're standing on the board it feels like you're 150 feet above the water," Michelle said breathlessly. "It feels like you're going so fast. The noise is incredible, and the spray of the water...it's like nothing I've ever experienced before."

"She was totally relaxed and confident," said Kelly. "I told her she was a natural, but she didn't believe me."