Diving was never something I really thought much about, but it was something I'd always wanted to do. I just thought of it as too expensive to really bother with. Still, I had seen the red-and-white in front of my now-LDS, and every once in a while, I'd think how cool it would be to be a diver.
Well, you can guess the story, eh?
One day I finally got around to dropping by the shop. I pulled around back (the parking's behind the building), and I felt like I was intruding on a private club or something. I parked the car, and with no intention of buying anything, I walked into my local dive shop for the first time.
It was geek heaven for me. Regulators, dive computers, vest thingies, masks, snorkels, wetsuits, dive flags, spearfishing gear... the vast array of wonders filled my senses. I still remember thinking how nice the shop person was as they let me wander "just looking" through those hallowed halls. You know what comes next.
Yep, having seen the wonders and glory, the awesome powers and majesty of scuba gear right there before my very eyes... I thanked them, smiled, and left. Everything looked like such fun, but my innate sense of mathematics (i.e. glancing at a couple prices) said that it would indeed be really expensive. Adding into that the fact that I knew no divers and would probably only get to dive once in a blue moon, it just wouldn't be worth the time and effort.
Someday, I'd be a diver, but probably not for a long time.
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Let us fast-forward a few years and pick the story up late last March, where we find me on a Tuesday evening, over at J.'s home (where I would meet her for dinner,
House, and my freshly-baked bread every week). As J. and I are at the table having dinner with her mom and younger sister, she happens to say something about being in class next week. As we'd always meet for dinner (and
House... and my bread) on Tuesday, naturally, I inquired about the class.
Turns out, her dad had signed her whole family (J., her two sisters, and their mom) up for a scuba class. I suppose you could say that hit me like a load of marshmallow-covered bricks. I was in one moment excited, terrified, elated, anxious, confused, and pretty much a quarter dictionary of other words, so I did what anyone would have.
"When does the class begin?" I asked.
"This Thursday," J. answered.
"Can I go, too?"
"Here."
And with that, I was handed
the form. I had been thinking about diving for who knows how many years, and I'd always figured I would get around to it eventually, but I figured I'd have a bit more warning than *two* *days*. Well, actually, I suppose it was actually only about 45 hours, but then again, that's *plenty* of time, eh? As I finished filling out the forms, my eyes opened slightly wider when I got to the medical list and "you're probably going to die" disclaimer. (Well, that's how it looked to a landlubber, at least.) I handed the completed forms to J.'s dad, who already had a small stack from his family to drop off in the morning, and I asked the final question (which was more of a damage assessment than a feasibility study).
"How much have I just spent?"
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Less than two days later, class commenced in earnest. I reveled in it. I suppose you could say that I'm one of those odd people who, given a chance, would learn *everything*, and diving was a brand new field into which to expand my studies. I finished the book Friday night, completed the workbook Sunday afternoon, and went to town on everything else after that. (I'd found the class notes of a college course when I got home Tuesday night, so that was done before I set foot in the dive shop the first night.)
Class was great, and I was very glad they'd signed up for the four-week style instead of the short course. It gave me time to learn more (and even write a dive table drill web app and put it up for J.'s family to practice with). By the time the checkout dives came around, I was confident in my skills, and I had as great a time as could be had in the ten-foot(-ish) viz we had in the Gulf. When the LDS opened on Monday, I bought a reg, BC, and tank.
I was a diver.
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Since our certification trip, I had the great honor to dive with J. one more weekend, but that was all the time she had before moving to Japan (where she still remains for a still-indeterminate time). Of course, without J. around, I've had plenty of time to get in a *lot* of diving. I've made it all the way to NAUI MSD with Rescue, DAN O2, etc., and I seem to have incited J.'s older sister to become an adept diver (she's only waiting on the next NAUI MSD class to put hers equal to my training collection, and she takes the time and effort to be skilled, as well).
So, what got me into diving? Basically, just always wanting to do it, but finally getting around to it. Of course, the other thing I've always enjoyed doing is teaching (in whatever form it make manifest), so don't be surprised if I eventually end up as an instructor within the next couple years... especially if J.'s still off somewhere. We need more instructors who are strongly into fundamentals and da fun mentals (i.e. people who *like* quarries, lakes, and other "ugly water").
Anyway. You asked (and no, I suppose it *wasn't* what you expected after all).
