I was just along for the ride. My idea of an aquatic adventure is staying up for the midnight chocolate bar on a cruise ship, and scuba diving has never made it to my bucket list. Not even close, along with sky diving and karaoke.
I'd like to blame my change of heart on peer pressure, but most of the folks on the boat barely knew me, and could not have cared less whether I suited up or sat alone drinking tequila while they plunged in. Our guide, an ex military expat who had experienced less difficulty choosing to be a PADI instructor than deciding where to do it (location, location, location), prodded me gently, and by that I mean not at all. Occasionally during the pre-dive briefing I imagined he was looking directly at me -- especially when he was tossing in assurances about all the things beginners don't need to worry about -- but it could have been because my entire body was shaking so badly he was assessing the need for medical assistance.
The good thing about bracing for a life or death situation -- like your lungs over inflating or your brain imploding from atmospheric pressure changes -- is you forget about the things that really freak you out, like slimy fish brushing against your legs or jelly fish tentacles dangling in front of your nose or the occasional misguided stingray who feels threatened by the unidentified flippered objects (UFO's) cruising through the neighborhood. The bad thing about bracing for a life or death situation is your mind is so preoccupied with imminent catastrophe you forget to pay attention when the guide is explaining how to prevent that from happening. Inflate, deflate. Top button, side button. Red gauge, black gauge. Inhale, exhale. Blah blah blah.
Life is not a spectator sport, no matter how much your friends and loved ones encourage you to accept your limitations and sit this one out. I could almost hear my mother's sobs through her email: Please don't do it. Promise me. I promised. There was no chance I was going scuba diving when the thought of diving off the side of the pool makes me queasy. And don't bake in the sun either. It's bad for you. Well, so are french fries, and life's too short. But I get what it's like to be a mom, so I promised and didn't mention my fingers were crossed. My friends laughed at the thought of me on the ocean floor without a good reason (like being on the Titanic). In fact, they laughed at the thought of anybody being on the ocean floor without a good reason. What are friends for, if not to validate your cowardice and your complete lack of a sense of adventure.
I suppose I knew from the moment I agreed to go along for the ride that I would not just be going along for the ride. The prospect of watching everyone else emerge like conquering heroes from the deep, exhilarated and clearly on the verge of chatting incessantly about the indescribable thrill of it all, was too much to bear. Our ex military expat guide did not seem surprised when I grabbed the wet suit he had brought along for me "just in case" and squeezed myself into it. He also did not seem surprised that I had put it on backwards.
For the life of me I cannot explain how I allowed myself to be shoved off the side of the boat backwards into the ocean only to endure some basic skills training that involved some maneuvering of equipment and coordination of mouth and nose breathing and swallowing of gallons of salt water. My ears were already in pain, and I was barely a foot beneath the surface. Somehow, though, I was deemed capable of progressing to an actual dive, and, for the life of me, I cannot explain how I once again tumbled backwards into the water, this time without a friendly shove, and descended slowly into a strange world where, theoretically, I could not breathe. As promised, our guide stayed close to me, checking on me and showing me some sights. He gently poked his finger underneath a diaphanous jelly fish, and I watched it fold into itself as it ascended and then open into what looked like a delicately painted umbrella as it floated downward. More quickly than I would have believed possible, the guide let go of my hand.
For the life of me I cannot explain how I felt in those next moments, gliding through the water as if I was born there, practically skimming the top of the reef, wondering why the exotic creatures weaving in and out of the intricate undersea housing development beneath me did not even seem to notice I was there. Or care. Maybe that's why I felt so at home. The water in this first spot was a little murky, the reef and the fish not quite as vibrant as the ones I've seen in pictures. But after forty-five minutes seemed to pass much too quickly and I popped to the surface, exhilarated and wishing I could chat about the thrill but rendered utterly speechless, I would have had no trouble explaining how much I looked forward to dive number two.
By the time we arrived at the next spot, where the crystal blue water was so clear you could see forty-five feet to the bottom, I was feeling confident. I rolled in backwards as if it were a normal thing to do, floated over to our buoy, and reminded myself not to rush. I descended more quickly this time but still carefully, stopping frequently to alleviate the pressure in my ears so nothing would impede my progress. Once again, I was near the bottom, feeling strangely at home in a world where I was a complete stranger. I was closer than I ever thought I would be to a stingray, then a barracuda, then a slithering eel. That's the stuff you can see in pictures though, the stuff I thought I could easily live without seeing in person, in a wetsuit, forty-five feet below civilization as I know it. But what you cannot see in pictures is the feeling that you are floating in space, the steady and unfamiliar sounds of a vast unknown, the calm of breathing in and breathing out slowly through your mouth, oblivious to what lies around the next corner. Time stands still, real life is suspended. Wet yoga.
One of my new scuba buddies asked me if I was going to get certified now. I don't know about that, but I cannot imagine never visiting that place and again feeling that indescribable feeling. So, to the naysayers -- myself included -- I admit that, before this trip is over, I will suit up one more time and dive in, eyes wide open, backwards.
