Casimir Pulaski Day 2017

Though I try my best to be a big brave boy, I do occasionally find that there are some things in life that nudge me out of my comfort zone and test my character. Things like rock climbing, being too warm, or trying new things of any kind have been known to ignite a very tiny spark of anxiety in my otherwise permanently serene mental posture.

As an engagement gift, my fiancé’s parents have decided to pay for classes through which I might become a certified scuba diver. This past week we had to perform a maneuver known as a “bail out” which is where you jump into the water with your mask and fins in one hand and regulator and BC (Buoyancy Compensator. Like a life-jacket that inflates and deflates) in the other, and put your gear on while below the surface.  When I was next on deck, the instructor said in a very calm, reassuring voice, “OK, whenever you’re ready you can go ahead.”

Not wanting to take even a second to consider my likely failure, I stumbled right into the drink and let myself sink while I went through my mental checklist: panic, remember that you are holding an air tank and regulator and needn’t die a horrible death, put regulator in mouth, continue panicking.  Pleased with my progress thus far, I figured I may as well try to put my mask and fins on. Once I had my mask in place and could finally see clearly I noticed that my left hand was only holding a single fin. Confused, I looked around frantically to locate the truant flipper only to spy it drifting slowly toward the other end of the diving well. I scrambled after it, flipper in one hand, BC in the other. I quickly found that swimming with one’s hands full and no flippers on one’s feet makes for slow, awkward going. I made a gametime decision to wear my remaining flipper on my foot and proceed that way rather than just holding it my hand. Unsurprisingly, this proved to be an even less effective means of locomotion but I’m no quitter so I stuck it out.

Once I had reclaimed the runaway flipper, I turned my attention to the task of putting on my tank and BC. This presents its own unique challenge because the tank is a little bit buoyant itself, so as you slide one arm in one side of the vest, the other side begins to float away, precipitating in kind of reverse conga line wherein you chase your BC all around the bottom of the pool with your butt. I outsmarted the BC by backing it into the pool wall making further evasive maneuvers unlikely (note: this strategy might present a problem if I were to ever attempt it in an open water situation). With my gear finally in place, I swam back to the surface, triumphant. My instructor, who had been watching the entire time, stared at me expressionlessly. “Well,” he said, “I suppose that’ll do.”

-Ryan