The Undersea World of Gary Cousteau

Sunday peeked through our blackout drapes while butterflies scattered throughout my belly. This morning Tony, Krystal and I are going scuba-diving. Kim is accompanying me on the boat ride out to the dive site in order to file the life insurance claim as quickly as possible.

First a welsh woman named Ingrid appraised our bodies to get us properly equipped. God, I felt like such a piece of meat! I was handed a set of flippers (we divers call them “fins”), a wet suit, a mask and a belt holding lead weights and enough leftover gnocchi’s to hold me underwater. Curiously Kim made the helpful suggestion that they also put my feet into concrete galoshes. I started to wonder if this whole scuba diving thing was such a swell idea after all as I managed to put the wet suit on backwards and lose my sunglasses before the lesson even started. But I wasn’t the only one struggling as Krystal returned her fins asking if they had something in a three inch heel instead. Tony is a certified diver which meant that he would be snapping photographs while I planned to flail around gasping for breath.

The lesson took place in a small pool, and consisted of simple instructions including the signals used to communicate underwater. I was particularly amused by the calm shoulder to shoulder motion that was intended to convey that, “Hey, I’m out of oxygen.” My mother-in-law, Carol, commented later that this display was remarkably similar to the sign of the cross. I’m pretty sure that despite this tutorial, if I ran out of air, they'd know because I’d be ripping the regulator out of Ingrid’s mouth and putting it in mine… let her make the sign! I paid surprisingly close attention to the whole thing though and passed the brief in water drills with flying colors. Of course, under these circumstances, if anything went awry, then I could simply stand up. And, there was nary a shark in sight!

The boat trip to the dive area went by too quickly. At station, Ingrid explained that she would be bringing us to a shark cage that had been blown up by the “Mythbusters” guys, and then we’d see the wreck of an airplane used as a stunt in a scene from Jaws 4. I wasn’t crazy about all this shark talk, and worried that instead of seeing me return to the surface, Kim would see a Great White wiping it's lips and making the international sign for “Check Please!” But I soon garbed up in wet suit, fins, mask, etc. Everything was swell except that I couldn’t get up! Nothing to worry about, it turned out that there was a bungee cord over the tank holding me fast in place. I was the last one in the water as I was rather unceremoniously tossed overboard about a moment after Ingrid said to me, “Oops, let’s turn this on and give you some air.” My vest was deflated and I slowly felt myself submerging below the surface. Unfortunately, I was the caboose in a long line of novice divers pulling themselves along the anchor rope to the bottom. I passed one person, then another…Krystal, I think? She looks different when surrounded by bubbles, who can be sure? Every few feet, I stopped to equalize as instructed by the pool. This involves holding your nose and blowing into it until you feel your ears pop a little. The air has to go somewhere, of course, so I worried that if my ears didn’t pop, then bubbles would be escaping from less polite orifices.

Finally, I reached the end and the instructor signaled me to take a knee in the nearby sand. I gotta tell you, I was pretty proud! There I was sucking oxygen, about twenty feet underwater and, as far as I could tell, not having the least bit of difficulty. Tony was already there coolly clicking away on his underwater camera. We took snapshots of each other and I looked around nervously taking stock of the environment while keeping Tony within sight. The remaining scuba time seemed very disorganized. I couldn’t tell who was who for instance. I followed different swimmers about without seeing anything resembling a cage or a plane. However, I was surrounded by large colorful fish (snappers, I think) and small blue ones that looked just like Dory in “Finding Nemo”. Floating above the coral was kind of a neat effect and the whole experience was kind of surreal. After some period of time, a blond diver, who I took to be Ingrid, signaled me to follow her. Unfortunately, she led me back to the anchor line and flicked her thumb up in an unmistakable message to return to the boat.

That night we decided to wander over to the fabulous Atlantis Resort on Paradise Island. The towering buildings stand out like a Disney Park above the Florida swampland. And, inside, the resort has all the garish opulence of a Las Vegas Hotel. We located the aquarium, and spent around an hour exploring this wonderful attraction. I had no idea that a ray could be so gargantuan. One passed us with a wing span of about twenty feet. There were thousands of lobsters, jellyfish, moray eels, sharks, and other fauna that I was pleased to meet now rather than during my little dive expedition.

We asked around for an inexpensive place to eat, and guest services suggested that we try Little Havana in Miami… ha ha. But, we traversed another, larger Casino and found a grille that would do. Gigunda yachts were docked outside the windows by where we sat. It’s hard to imagine that kind of wealth, and I tried to take solace in the fact that those boats are no fun for tubing or water skiing.