Nobody wants to be THAT person: you know – the chick who keeps ending up with a mouthful of foot, despite her best intentions. But most subcultures worth joining (like, say, whitewater paddling) come with webs of unspoken rules that are easy to get tangled up in.

As someone who’s still shaking the wet from behind my ears in this community, I’ve had the opportunity to be a keen observer – and occasional unwilling perpetrator – of the violation of some of its basic norms. So, to promote compliance with GABP (generally accepted boater principles), a/k/a “How Not to Be a Douchebag,” I’ve started collecting examples of moments I found teachable. There are way too many to put all in one entry, so here are a few to start with.

[Notice: this is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual douchebags, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Or okay, they really happened, but hopefully you don’t know who you are. No douchebags were harmed in the making of this quiz.]

The Douchebag Quiz (Part I)

We’ll start out easy:

1. Your paddling buddy of roughly equal skill and experience level posts this on Facebook: “Stooooooooked!!!!! Finally got the upper Nanty!! OMG, PB&J, lol! Check out my bootie beer vid!”

You respond this way in the comments: “Way to go, dude! That was a fun one when I did it last year before I bagged Cheoah. I must have gotten lucky – dry hair day for me, haha!”

Douchebag?

Just don’t. You had your moment – last year, right? Don’t spray all over his, like a territorial mongrel. If you want to give your bud grief, own it. Like this, maybe: “Awwww…lil nancy-boys who go for a swim at PB&J deserve the strings on their pretty Jackson boats! That a Cosmo in your boot there, bro?”

Have some standards.

Another easy one:

2. You’re getting your surf on at Hell Hole, but people keep blowing down the rapid, screaming and laughing and bobbing and flipping and generally preventing your God-given badassery from reaching its potential. You:

a. Try to take up as little room as possible and let them go around you

b. Ignore their existence

c. Maintain a coolly detached facial expression, flex your sun-bronzed, sweat-oiled biceps, and carve that baby like butter, hoping someone has a camera with 1080p full HD

d. Get out of the way

Although logistics will sometimes prevent it, the rule is that upstream traffic has the right of way. I remember being the baby boater white-knuckling my way down the waves, only to be staring down a human obstacle blocking the only line I was capable of taking. Trust me – you don’t want to be the focus of that kind of attention. (Also, I personally know more than one old-school canoeist with a bad attitude who will happily play the part of 17-foot steely-eyed law enforcer. The term “playboater soccer” is lurking in my memory, somewhere.

A special note here about rafts: remember that gorgeous psycho you were briefly but deliciously infatuated with? She mesmerized you, making the ride look like an orgy of fun, until you realized that you were the helpless passenger on her batstuff crazy train, prisoner to her sudden and unpredictable lurches into they’ll-never-find-the-body territory. That’s how you want to think about rafts. Upstream, downstream, sitting there looking innocent atop a recycled school bus – stay away. If you engage, you’re likely gonna lose, my friend.

Now, we’re cooking with Crisco! Onward.

3. Fresh off your triumphant PFD of Baby Falls, you run across a group of class V boater friends talking about their upcoming laps on the Green. You bellow:

a. I’m in!

b. Dudes…mind if I join? Been working up to that one for a while!

c. That’s awesome!

I once heard a pro boater with about eleventy million followers say, about a relative newb, “Just because I said I’d be there doesn’t mean you’re invited.” There is clear douchebaggery taking place in “A,” but what about “B?” Lots of really great boaters are nice enough to take less experienced paddlers down a challenging river for the first time, so why not ask?

Ask away! Just do it in private, so nobody has to feel like a jerk – them, if they need to say no, and you, if they need to say no. Get somewhere you can have a straightforward conversation, and accept what they tell you. If you’re respectful and they’re into that kind of thing, the worst they’ll probably say is, “You’re not ready yet.”

“C” for the win! (I believe, with some notable exceptions, most confusing situations in paddling -and life- can safely be answered, “That’s awesome!”)

4. Consider the following social media exchange:

Original Poster: Who’s up for middle Tellico Sunday?? If weather and water gods don’t cooperate, we’ll Plan B it. This is a class II/III run.

• I AM!!

• I’m in!!!!