For three years now, I've been surfing regularly at Queens in Waikiki.

I'm there just about every morning, sometime between first light and daybreak, when delivery trucks outnumber tourists on Kalakaua Avenue.

Like most Type-A personalities with longboards, I choose to dawn-patrol because I actually want to relax when I'm out there, not fight for waves with aggro surfers more intent on making their quota than having fun.

I get enough stress at work.

But over the years these early morning sessions have become more than just something I do for a mental break.

I've become part of the landscape — and if I'm not there during a swell or absent for too many consecutive days, I'll get a call at work.

"What happened to you?"

"You sick or what?"

"Ho, had waves!"

Then last week, the regulars took our lineup onto land, with an outing at the Movie Museum in Kaimuki.

It started with a conversation on a bleak (read: flat) morning at the break.

Trevor, our resident accent, reported nabbing the video of "Brice De Nice," a cult French movie about a 30-year-old surfer-slacker who worships Bodhi from "Point Break."

Somehow we started planning an evening at the Movie Museum to watch the flick. Jimmy promised to cater. Steve promised to bring his guitar. Geoff promised not to sing. It was a go.

Despite talk of a double feature, I wasn't entirely convinced it was going to happen.

Sure, we know each other's medical ailments and financial constraints on buying new boards — but it's not as though we talk on the phone or chat online. We're not always in the water at the same time. And we rarely run into each other outside of Waikiki.

And yet there we all were, packed into the tiny theater — the overflow on beach chairs — feasting on kalua pig, sushi and malassadas.

Walking into the theater was like paddling out to the break (except we were all fully clothed). The faces, the smiles, they were all familiar. Mike brought his wife. Midori brought her friends. And everyone brought food.

As I drove home that evening, I thought about this unusual circle of friends.

Out of college, I've lost that daily social interaction. These days, the only socializing I do regularly is at work.

But then I thought about that night and how we can connect with people in the most unexpected places, just by being part of the usual setting. Like at the gym or in line at the coffee shop.

It's funny how you can matter even to the people you see for just an hour a day. It's nice to know I belong somewhere.

Not that they'll let me drop in on them, of course.

Reach Catherine E. Toth at ctoth@honoluluadvertiser.com.