Scuba Diving....Or the Lack Thereof

    With the exception of not becoming an Olympic swimmer, you could pretty much call me a water bug, mermaid, fish, etc.  I honestly do not have a first memory of being in the water, but there are pictures of me in my absolutely adorable swimsuit with a bulging diaper bootie.  Therefore, I know that my parents threw me in the water at a pretty young age.  When I was about 9, my dad took me on my first snorkel trip in Jamaica.  Prior to jumping in the ocean, I practiced in the pool with my hot pink mask, snorkel, and fins (stylish, eh?).  It was probably the greatest experience to be able to see and breath underwater without coming up for air.

    Whether it be on the lake, pool, or ocean, PDub was also raised in and around the water.  Due to this love, the majority of our vacations are based around warm weather and a body of water.  We have taken several snorkel trips and, of course, loved viewing the creatures under the sea.  This led us to become interested in scuba diving.....du du duuuuuu....and the plot thickens.....

PDub chillin' by the pool....Bring on the hot babes!

Say....Bubbles!

PDub and I trapped under a glass bottom boat....No worries, we survived.

On our way to sea....

In a Cenote in Mexico

    PDub's sister, Doubles Shark-Whisperer, had been scuba diving for awhile by this point and convinced us, Evens Tyrone, and my father-in-law to become certified.  We read through the textbook and flew to San Diego for the pool and four ocean dives.  After sitting in the classroom for a day and passing the written exam, we geared up and headed for the pool.  Here, we descended for the first time, and it was actually pretty surreal.  It felt like flying.
    The next day, we took a shot at the shores where we would do our first and second ocean dive.  During the classroom portion, we were told that getting certified in San Diego automatically makes you a whiskey diver.  Let me explain this a little better.  Like the ever-so-delightful fruity cocktails, Mexico and the Caribbean offer you clear, warm, calm waters; on the contrary, San Diego offers you murky, cold (oh so cold), rough waters.  It's hard to drink an entire glass of whiskey, but once you have, it's easier to drink any other beverage.  Anyway, before gearing up, we ate some sustenance, bananas, that Evens Tyrone had cleared out of a nearby Starbucks and then affixed our wetsuits.
    My buddy, also known as PDub, helped me get decked out with gear that weighed more than me.  We checked each other over and trudged into the great Pacific.  Instead of flopping off a boat (that would be cocktail drinking), we charged through 3 foot waves (8 feet to me), swam 150 yards (8 miles to me), and finally dropped down to about 30 feet (80 feet to me).  I could hardly see in front of me, the intense surge tossed my body from side to side, and the water pierced through my wetsuit at a bitter 57 degrees.  It probably wasn't the best experience of my life, but I conquered the first dive.
    We ascended and relaxed in the water before diving again.  During this time, it hit me that I did not feel too amazing.  My nausea blindsided me, and while everyone else bailed (including the instructor), Doubles Shark-Whisperer held on to my floating self while the bananas reappeared.  We pushed the remnants away and swam back to shore.  In addition to this tragedy, I lost one of my new fins on the way back through the waves.  And God said (in a booming voice), "No scuba diving for this girl!"  Needless to say, I didn't go back down that day....or ever again.

My scuba buddy....Sorry we couldn't share this hobby!

The scuba class with Doubles Shark-Whisperer, two dive masters, and our instructor.

The real stuff!

    In the future, while my PDub, his sister, and Evens Tyrone go diving with sharks and clown fish, I'll do what I do best: sit on the beach, sip a cocktail (not whiskey), and read a book.  Sayonara scuba diving!

Born and raised a beach babe....my grandma and me