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Scary, spooky, who cares.

For the past few days I've been thinking about scary things. A lot. Because it's fun. Ghosts and monsters and all of those types of things. The paranormal really pushes my buttons. Then I drove to the store and had a terrible time.

I kept seeing things out of the corners of my eyes that weren't really there. Faces in the windows when I backed out of the driveway. Dogs running into the road that never showed up in my headlights. I heard my phone ringing but it wasn't. There were voices outside of my car when there wasn't anyone around.

I'll admit this: I get spooked easily, given the proper atmosphere. Or even just regularly. If I think about things, I'll get spooked.

Excluding nightmares, I can only think of one time I've truly been scared. There is a difference between being spooked and scared, I think. We were SCUBA diving in Cozumel, once. We went through some kind of cave-like structure in single file. I was having trouble staying down because I didn't have enough weight on my belt. The next thing I knew, a fin was in my face and my regulator left my mouth.

During certification, they teach you how to deal with situations like that. Stay calm. Exhale steadily. Reach back and swing your arm around you. Collect your regulator, replace it in your mouth, clear it. Resume respirations. It's different when you do that exercise sitting at the bottom of a lake with your dive instructor sitting across from you with an extra regulator in hand.

I reached back and pulled my hand through water. Nothing. Then I ran out of air to exhale. I looked up at the surface. It was kind of far away. Don't panic, I thought. I reached back again, unsuccessfully. Shit! Fuck! Oh fuck! I thought. Oh God. I am going to drown like an idiot in Cozumel.

Someone pulled me out of the cave and into open water. A regulator was thrust into my hand and I took deep breaths. Dry air never felt better. It was the guide. He shook me and spun me around to face him. I threw him a thumbs up. Oh shit, I thought. That means 'I want to go up.' I gave him an 'okay' sign. I don't want to go up. I meant I was okay.

We laughed about it later, but it's hard to forget that feeling of panic. I came away from the experience shaken up but more appreciative of, you know, not being dead.

Then I got lost and surfaced like an idiot. Also my weight belt fell off.

Comments

Spen said…
lol dude was this when we were in cozumel together? That's intense.
February 15, 2009 at 7:37 PM
Gabe said…
Yeah man! Don't you remember? It was the first legit dive we did on that trip.
February 15, 2009 at 11:20 PM
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