I’m still trying to understand how scuba diving in the ocean can be a tranquil experience…well, without tranquilizers anyway. I have an absurd, irrational fear of sharks. So much so, that I can’t even swim in a pool by myself. My fear was somewhat controllable until about two years ago when my husband and I went snorkeling in the Keys. We were having such a wonderful time exploring the reef, listening to parrot fish crunch on the coral, and searching for lobster. Then along came sunset (i.e. shark feeding frenzy time). It had been about half an hour since I had done a shark check, and my husband and I were in pretty open water. I began scanning the reef’s edge and, within a second, spotted a shark slithering its way over to inspect our presence. The shark was so hidden in the backdrop of the reef and its movements were so stealthy. Being the cool, level-headed chick that I am, I began to…okay, I won’t lie. I glanced at my husband happily poking away at a lobster in a cave and quickly calculated the risk of swimming toward him (and the shark) to inform him of the shark’s presence. I shamefully admit that I immediately began swimming back towards the boat, but a glance back at my gleefully unaware husband made me realize I couldn’t live without him anyway. I extended my lobster stick as far as I possibly could and lovingly began whacking him on the back. When he swam to the surface to kick my butt I screamed, “SHARK!” and began flailing wildly back to the boat (exactly what you’re not supposed to do around sharks). I would challenge Michael Phelps to beat my swimming record that day. Needless to say, after climbing the lighthouse that we had anchored the boat to, we spotted about 10 bull sharks circling the area - no doubt wondering what all the commotion was about. I decided right then and there, there is nothing so incredible under water that makes getting eaten by a shark worthwhile.
Fast forward to July 18, 2008. I confidently show up to my first of five open water dives to earn my scuba certification. Everyone else is in a full wetsuit, so I stand out in my shorty. I’m confident that, out of 12 or so divers, my chances as shark bait were greatly reduced. We began wading into the water and slowly descending into the 12-inch visibility, algae infested water. The water was so bad that we couldn’t even see our partners, let alone our instructor. I had no idea why they had chosen that location for our first dive. Suddenly, it hit me - excruciating, paralyzing pain on my neck. I couldn’t breathe…heck, I couldn’t even panic. I grabbed onto my partner’s leg before the next attack on my left leg, right leg, and then my left wrist. All around us swirled a blanket of Sea Nettle Jellyfish. I summoned every last bit of energy I had to tap my instructor on the thigh, and she quickly gave the “thumbs up” for us to surface. I barreled to the shore and was quickly met by my husband yanking my gear off, my step-daughter dousing me with vinegar, and curious onlookers gasping at the welts all over my body. Within 30 minutes, the nausea, stomach cramps, and chest pain set in. Those fortunate enough to be in full wetsuits only had stings to the face and neck. I’m telling you, I still don’t understand the joy of scuba diving, but I do understand the benefit of a full wetsuit during jellyfish season.
We decided to move our certification dives to Vortex Springs, FL. The water is 60 degrees year round, but the visibility is endless. I donned a 7mm farmer-john, layered under a 7mm shorty. Granted, they practically had to weigh me down with concrete blocks, but I was warm and toasty watching everyone else go into shivering convulsions. We descended to 50 feet and watched freshwater eels poke their head out of their cave just enough to beg divers for Easy Cheese. I could have a future in freshwater diving. I became an officially NAUI certified diver on July 20, 2008!
It took a while, but I finally agreed to go diving with my husband yesterday (August 30th). We originally planned on diving in 30 feet of water, but his friends kept pressuring us to dive the Miss Louise, a 95-foot tugboat in 60 feet of water. Of course I’ll go - I’m not a chicken! We arrived just in time to see a couple of divers surfacing. They recommended that we go to the Air Force Barge in 70 feet of water. I’m thinking, “By the time we dive, someone will have us talked into diving the Titanic in 13,000 feet of water!” I was easily convinced to move locations when three barracuda the length of my leg began circling the boat. The divers casually said, “Yeah, those guys will just follow you around waiting for free hand-outs”. Free? Hands? What? I looked at my sparkling wedding band and imagined a gruesome scenario.
Three miles later, we arrived at the Air Force Barge. The water was full of moon jellies and those awful sea nettles, but luckily I came prepared with a full wetsuit. By the time I had all my equipment on, I was pouring sweat and the heat was making my stomach churn. As much as I’m afraid of sharks, I had to roll in the water before I died of heat exhaustion. The second I landed in the water, sheer terror set in. I began flailing and screaming like a loon for my husband to get in the water with me. “Calling all sharks to aisle Gina - light meat special”. His friends were yelling at me to swim over to the anchor line, which appealed to me greatly. Finally, my husband made his way over to me and I attached myself to him like a sucker-fish. He asked me if I was okay. “Of course, couldn’t be better!” So off we went, into the darkness of the underworld. Slowly, my mask began sucking my entire face into it and my eyes felt like they were about to pop out of my head. The pressure on my brain was killing me, once again leading to the conclusion of me being eaten by sharks. I heard my husband’s muffled yells for me to breathe into my mask. I was hoping he heard my yells that he was a stupid idiot and that breathing into my mask wasn’t working for me. If all else failed, my craziness might make the sharks think I have Mad Cow Disease. Just before I gave up and completely wrote off diving, I looked at my dive computer - 43 feet deep, less than 20 feet to go before being able to say, “I did it.” Down below, I could barely make out the sun’s rays dancing on the sandy floor and a strange black object that looked foreign to the environment. I panicked when my husband began shooting towards the surface and then grasping onto the rope to pull himself back down. Apparently, that “black thing” on the ocean floor was his weight belt, and I had managed to kick it off of him in my frightful thrashing. I was too scared not to follow him down. As I turned around and the mystical barge came into view surrounded by a sparkling wall of school fish spiraling into the distance, peace completely settled over me. Arm-in-arm we swam around the barge, explored the nooks and crannies, and spotted sea urchins, baby grouper, and too many other secrets of the sea to list. I was devastated when my husband motioned for us to surface. WOW! Scuba diving is amazing. It didn’t take long for fear to set back in, but it was a little bit less this time. I don’t do well on ascents and descents in murky water. Other than that, this is a pretty cool hobby.
Our friends met us at the surface, asking us what took us so long. My husband sweetly opted out of telling them how much of a pain I was to drag under water. We all had just enough air left for a 20 minute dive at the place I originally agreed to go - the 30 feet jetties. I was totally up for it. The water was clearer, and I got to take my underwater camera this time. We were greeted by this crazy, cool crab:
All in all, it was a pretty unforgettable day. I may not be the most fun person to dive with (unless spastic chicks are your thing), but I’m getting the hang of it and looking forward to our dive trip to Bimini in October.
Thanks, Richard Horne, for recommending yet another awesome life experience.
My co-workers also added to my disappointment by telling me that my video was not shown.
I’m partly kidding…I don’t think getting arrested has to be that graphic. 
