This was a quickie--
We surfaced from the first dive and meandered back to the dive shop, again walking in front of the sunbathers on the beach.
We took the requisite break (you have to take time to clear nitrogen from your bod), strapped on new tanks, and headed this time for the dock.
Now I had to prove to Ricky that I could do the "big step" method of getting into the water. SCUBA is so creative with the terminology, don't you think?
So here I was, with a weight belt and 40 other pounds of tank and equipment, standing on the edge of the dock like a three-year-old at the edge of a pool. And I'm sorry to admit I was scared.
See, when I was about 5 or 6 I did a lovely twist jump off the edge of a pool and cracked my chin open. Hospital, stitches, the works followed. I'm still somewhat wary of jumping into water. I'm fine at the pool, but add the equipment and I become certain something's going to happen. I had done the big step in the pool for Sr. Zen back home, but this was higher and there were boats buzzing around and rocks and no lifeguard in the ocean.
And perhaps most importantly, there was no mommy or daddy in the water to assure me they would catch me.
Yes, in retrospect it seems silly. But I told Ricky the instructor I was scared, and he gazed at me silently with his Mr. Suave eyes and said, without the least bit of irony (but perhaps a wee bit of scorn), "Why?"
A man of few words, but strangely effective.
I pumped up my BCD (vest), put the regulator in my mouth, held onto my mask, and took the plunge. It was nothin'. It was less than nothin'. With all that air in the BCD I bobbed to the surface (and, in fact, half my body was out of the water). There was no temperature shock (Mexico, right? Nice and warm). There was no hold-your-breath problem (regulator in). It was nothing. I'm such a wimp.
The rest of the dive was fine. I was distracted by the fishies, and Ricky was making me practice underwater castrophes. Once again I had to take off my mask and put it back on. It got caught in my hair and yanked out a huge chunk. All of a sudden people paying $15-$20 for things that go over your mask strap to protect hair didn't seem so foolish after all. (I completely repent of scoffing when they tried to sell me one back home). When I got the mask back on and opened my eyes I also saw that the current had carried me an amazing distance in that short span. Note to self: don't close your eyes and dink around with your equipment when you're in a current.
My one other big memory from that dive was the unnerving feeling that accompanies looking up to see boats speeding around above you. I had brief visions of rocketing to the surface and being chewed up by a boat engine.
I also want to note that every cliche song you can imagine was going through my mind: "Bobbing along, bobbing along on the bottom of the beautiful briny sea..." "Under the sea, under the sea, something is better, down where it's wetter, naturally..."
Ya know, I'm with Sebastian. Why the heck would a mermaid give up the ocean for some pretty boy on the surface?
Well-- for MOST pretty boys on the surface [wink].
We surfaced from the first dive and meandered back to the dive shop, again walking in front of the sunbathers on the beach.
We took the requisite break (you have to take time to clear nitrogen from your bod), strapped on new tanks, and headed this time for the dock.
Now I had to prove to Ricky that I could do the "big step" method of getting into the water. SCUBA is so creative with the terminology, don't you think?
So here I was, with a weight belt and 40 other pounds of tank and equipment, standing on the edge of the dock like a three-year-old at the edge of a pool. And I'm sorry to admit I was scared.
See, when I was about 5 or 6 I did a lovely twist jump off the edge of a pool and cracked my chin open. Hospital, stitches, the works followed. I'm still somewhat wary of jumping into water. I'm fine at the pool, but add the equipment and I become certain something's going to happen. I had done the big step in the pool for Sr. Zen back home, but this was higher and there were boats buzzing around and rocks and no lifeguard in the ocean.
And perhaps most importantly, there was no mommy or daddy in the water to assure me they would catch me.
Yes, in retrospect it seems silly. But I told Ricky the instructor I was scared, and he gazed at me silently with his Mr. Suave eyes and said, without the least bit of irony (but perhaps a wee bit of scorn), "Why?"
A man of few words, but strangely effective.
I pumped up my BCD (vest), put the regulator in my mouth, held onto my mask, and took the plunge. It was nothin'. It was less than nothin'. With all that air in the BCD I bobbed to the surface (and, in fact, half my body was out of the water). There was no temperature shock (Mexico, right? Nice and warm). There was no hold-your-breath problem (regulator in). It was nothing. I'm such a wimp.
The rest of the dive was fine. I was distracted by the fishies, and Ricky was making me practice underwater castrophes. Once again I had to take off my mask and put it back on. It got caught in my hair and yanked out a huge chunk. All of a sudden people paying $15-$20 for things that go over your mask strap to protect hair didn't seem so foolish after all. (I completely repent of scoffing when they tried to sell me one back home). When I got the mask back on and opened my eyes I also saw that the current had carried me an amazing distance in that short span. Note to self: don't close your eyes and dink around with your equipment when you're in a current.
My one other big memory from that dive was the unnerving feeling that accompanies looking up to see boats speeding around above you. I had brief visions of rocketing to the surface and being chewed up by a boat engine.
I also want to note that every cliche song you can imagine was going through my mind: "Bobbing along, bobbing along on the bottom of the beautiful briny sea..." "Under the sea, under the sea, something is better, down where it's wetter, naturally..."
Ya know, I'm with Sebastian. Why the heck would a mermaid give up the ocean for some pretty boy on the surface?
Well-- for MOST pretty boys on the surface [wink].
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