I had a bad experience in the Caribbean.

Funny thing about getting older.  You find out you’ve lost your skills.  Stuff you used to do no problem is suddenly a BIG problem.  I once snorkeled in Sharm El Sheik before the hotels were built.  Back in ’72, as Bob Seger would say.  This was when the Egyptian locus was in Israeli hands.  Before, in a peacemaking effort, they gave it back.

We flew down from Tel Aviv on one of those airlines that you know no longer exists.  My sister gave the security guard shit, so he shot off a few frames on her camera to teach her a lesson.  Don’t EVER fuck with Israeli security.  People DIE there.  They tolerate no blowback.

And after landing in 120 degree heat, we were shuttled to a beach.  With tents.  All I can tell you is it was so hot that I drank seven bottles of their equivalent of 7-Up and I never had to pee.

But the VISTAS!  Whew.

And about a hundred feet off shore…  A reef began.  With the best snorkeling I’ve ever experienced.  Oh, I was playing Diver Dan.  Swimming ever further out.  And then diving into underground caves, blowing the water out of my snorkel when I resurfaced.  Lifeguards?  Shit, I couldn’t even be SEEN from the beach.  Not that anybody was looking.

But decades later in the Caribbean.  I was floating with the current.  A few dozen yards from shore.  And when I tried to get back, and my arms no longer contained the strength of youth, and I found myself stroking futilely, I started to PANIC!

You know what fixin’ to die feels like?  After the panic subsides?  You can see the movie.  It’s unfolding in front of your very eyes.  You’re gonna die.  In this stupid little hellhole.  For no good reason.  I mean at least make it a good story.  Make it about a serious risk.  An accident.  But to watch yourself expire because you just can’t make it the few feet back to safety shocks you.  You can’t believe it ends this way.

But I survived.  I swam to somebody else’s boat.  And hauled myself onto the jutting rear deck.  I figured if I was going to die, propriety was not an issue.  But even though MY boat was now only fifty or sixty feet away, I couldn’t let go, I couldn’t get started.  Feeling I’d just cheated death, I didn’t want to take another chance.  But watching the YOUNGSTERS making the journey with no effort, I finally pushed off.  And when I got to my boat I lifted myself aboard and laid on its floor exhausted.  Whether it was from physical effort or the after-effects of the panic, I’ll never know.  What I DO know is I’ve never gone in over my head since.  I need to touch bottom.  Unless it’s a pool.  And, even those freak me out a bit, if they’re large enough.

But I couldn’t share this fear with anybody.  I didn’t want to be labeled a wimp.  But when Monica started waxing rhapsodically about the Aqua Safari, my stomach flipped.  How was I going to get OUT OF THIS?  Walking on the bottom of the ocean in some Mickey Mouse helmet thousands of miles from home?

Then it was too late.  We ran across Christopher deep in the bowels of the Paul Gauguin.  He had a big smile on his face.  He’d gotten us ALL tickets for the AQUA SAFARI!

I didn’t sleep well that night.

Tahiti ain’t like Hawaii.  Not only are there no high rise hotels, the long arm of the U.S. law does not apply.  There are no safety regulations.  I was FREAKED!

Which is why I wouldn’t go snorkeling while we waited for the first party to complete their underwater walk.

We took the tender to Vaitape.  Only a five minute ride.

And then, we were approached by a dead ringer for Barry Manilow.  Wearing a t-shirt that said MONTREAL!  I speak Canadian.  I figured I could bond.  Trust could be established.  But although Xavier had BEEN to Montreal, he was from somewhere in France.  And it was French that he started speaking to the couple next to me.  Walking them through the ropes of the Aqua Safari.  Oh he’d started our journey in this aluminum hulk of a speedboat, something looking like it had been made from spare parts from the junkyard, by saying it was EASY!  But then why did the instructions go on for five minutes?

Finally, Xavier started over in English.

And I’ve got all kinds of questions.  But when I begin asking them my brethren instantly pop up with answers.  Turns out they were on XAVIER’S side.  I couldn’t count on them.

Okay.  This could be it.  The end of my life.  At least I’d go down in a macho fashion.

Like I said, we were the second group.

On some level, I wish we were the first.  Because the more I observed this rickety operation, the more scared I became.

Far from shore, we tied the floating aluminum barge up to some fiberglass runabout that had been new in the last century.  Then, the islander assisting Xavier started lifting the helmets on a bizarre CRANE apparatus.  If they were so heavy this muscle-bound specimen couldn’t lift them, what if I had a crisis on the bottom of the ocean?  It’s not like I can just lift it off myself and make a mad dash for the surface.  I’m gonna be TRAPPED!

And then those in the first group were all underwater.  And my crew was jumping into the surrounding liquid.  To do a little snorkeling while they waited.

No fucking way!

It’s not like there are a lot of waves a mile offshore in Bora Bora.  You see the coral reef blocks the ocean effects.  But, there WAS a current.  And the water was WAY over my head.  And with Xavier on the ocean floor, and his Tahitian buddy sleepily watching the airhoses, who was going to save me when I started to drown?

And I’m feeling more inadequate as the rest of my group is flapping in the water.  I can barely move.

And then I get that feeling.  Like Tupac, all eyez are on ME!  I’ve been revealed.  I’m a wimp.  I’m going to be labeled for all time.

Better to die than to wear the chicken moniker.  Running on adrenaline, I donned my flippers, put on my mask and jumped off the back of the aluminum boat.

Stunningly, I didn’t die.  I experienced a bit of agoraphobia.  But just as this was starting to fade, as I was gaining my bearings, as I was getting COMFORTABLE, Felice waved me back.  It was our turn.  For the Aqua Safari.

Two of the girls from the first party popped up first.  One complained that she couldn’t get steady under the surface.  She had trouble walking.  And just as my anxiety started to rise, I noticed her compatriot, the woman shivering, had a nipple showing.

It was only half a nipple.  Really, an areola.  But I’m male.  I couldn’t stop staring.  She wasn’t adjusting her bikini top.  It remained in full view.  Or half view.  And no matter HOW MUCH nookie we guys have gotten, we can’t resist a view of private territory.  And it was while I was caught up in this distraction that Ginny disappeared.

I hadn’t been watching.  I thought the first six would come up before our seven would go down.  But it turns out they had a replacement system.  And now Ginny was underwater.

Ginny didn’t care that the rules said a woman of her age needed a note from her doctor.  She hadn’t even expressed anxiety.  No, Felice’s mother just JUMPED IN!

And then Felice.

And then…me.

I wanted to be close to Felice.  I wanted to die near Felice.  Maybe I could signal her as I was fading out.  She could tell the story and make me look good.  I wouldn’t just be another tourist biting it on vacation.

The helmet.  It’s big and yellow.  Made out of cement, or something like it.  I stood on the ladder at the end of the boat.  They lowered it upon me.  And then I started stepping down.

And the first thing I see is Xavier.  In his wetsuit.  Signaling me.  Am I O.K?  Fuck, I’m maybe an inch below the surface and words have been taken off the table.  He’d run through all the signals SO FAST!  What if I got them wrong?  What if I couldn’t REMEMBER ONE!

And you’ve got to equalize the pressure.  This is the part that had me really flipped.  Ear problems I’ve got.  Xavier said not to go if you didn’t feel both of your ears pop.  But when I tested it above the surface, the right one wouldn’t go.  Was that serious, or anomalous?  Oh, my posse said I’d KNOW if I had a problem.  Yeah, right.  Like they’d had THEIR ears operated on.  Not only can I barely HEAR shit, I don’t KNOW shit.  It’s not like I can call the House Ear Clinic from this tiny vessel in the South Pacific!

But Dr. Brackmann had never said no.

But my ears weren’t popping.  Shit, would I have to punt RIGHT AWAY?  Before I even got to the BOTTOM?

I couldn’t do that.  My manhood wouldn’t tolerate it.

And Xavier’s flipping out.  Lord knows they probably don’t have insurance, but I guess he wants to be able to sleep at night.  He’d told me to yawn to equalize, but that wasn’t working.  I had to take the alternative route.  I had to reach UNDER my helmet, which turned out to be almost IMPOSSIBLE, hold my nose and BLOW!

But my ears still hurt.

But maybe they should.

I realized risking deafness was worse than displaying a small unit, so I kept going.

And when I got to the bottom, I could see Ginny.  FURTHEST from the boat.  And Felice nearby.  And SUDDENLY, I’m ENVELOPED BY FISH!

These were not the tiny creatures on the private island near Taha’a two days before.  They looked like they could BITE YOU!  And then I remembered that Xavier said they WOULD bite you.

And they’re slimy.  And why are they so into ME!  Why not Ginny or Felice?

The bread.  Took me about ten minutes to figure it out.  They put bread in a net bag attached to the helmet.  They figure if you’re paying all this money, you want to see FISH!

Xavier kept giving me the O.K. sign, wanting me to flash it back.

And all I can think is how long do I have to stay down here before I can GET THE FUCK UP!

I start playing mental games.  Monica, Gregg, Big and Little Chris.  They’ve got to get down first.  THEN I can jump out.

The water.  The water!  It’s RISING AROUND MY NECK!  I’m going to DROWN!

I’m panicking.  This is it.  I start walking over to Xavier.  SAVE ME!

But he’s showing something to Monica.

I reach up under my helmet.  It doesn’t seem to be water, but AIR!  Why is air so cold underwater?

Finally, everybody’s down.  Little Chris is snapping photos.

I turn my head, looking for Felice, and it’s like I’m on a bad trip.  Turns out there’s some funhouse mirror effect.  If you turn, look out a side window, you lose ALL perspective!

Okay.  Eyes straight.

But I’m still DROWNING!

I put my fingers up inside the helmet again.  Still, the water was not encroaching my neck.  It was STILL cold air.  I had no excuse.  I had to stay down.

And then I thought I was going to LIVE!

Then Felice’s turn was over.  My safety net was gone.  I was going to DIE!

Then Xavier motioned ME over to some giant underground rock.  He wanted to show me the clams.  And some other underwater flora or fauna, who knows the difference, that reacted when he touched it.

He was laughing.  Yup, with his breathing apparatus in his mouth.  I could tell.  We were having a PARTY!

And I was about to revel, and then I remembered, WE’RE IN TAHITI!  With no FDA.  Or FTC.  Or FCC.  Whatever organization protects me from inept operators.

But I’d lived THIS long!

I decided to get closer to the blue fish.  I abandoned the rope.  I strode the underwater hill.  Suddenly, I was a PLAYER!  I could DO THIS!  I was going to MAKE IT!

I mean live long enough, and you can live forever.

If the guy on the surface didn’t fuck up my tank.

Then again, if people HAD died, wouldn’t they have shut this ride DOWN?

And then Xavier showed up again.  My BUDDY!  He starts flashing some underwater signs.  Why does he keep asking me if I’m O.K?  Can’t he SEE that I’m O.K?

And as I was contemplating this, Xavier crossed his arms.

I’m fucked.  Xavier sees something I don’t.  I AM going to die.

I’m flummoxed.  Then I realize, this is the sign that the ride is OVER!

I walk back to the boat.  I climb the ladder.

Suddenly, I’m above the surface.  The helmet has been removed.  I’m ALIVE!

Oh, now I’m joshing and laughing with the rest of them.  I’d faced my fear and won!  No, I’d been SO worried of being ashamed that I’d decided that death was better than humiliation.

But the whole way back to Vaitape, I had my head off the side of the boat.  My hair was blowing in the wind and spray.  The steep hills of the island were getting closer.  And all I could hear in my head was "The Boys Of Summer".

I can see you
Your brown skin shinin’ in the sun
I see you walkin’ real slow and smilin’ at everyone

Changed my perspective.  Suddenly, life wasn’t about winning, but experiencing.  I no longer had to be the star of my youth.  I could try things and fail.  Because I might win.  For myself.

Little victories mean so much.  More than the big ones.  Because the big ones are transitory, you feel alone.  Whereas the little ones are evidence of your humanity.  You feel a part of the human race.  You feel just like everybody else.  Flawed, but trying to get along.  Winning sometimes, but losing too.

Oh, I won’t say I wasn’t fearful kayaking off the back of the ship two days later in Moorea.  In the bay that Captain Cook had set anchor.  Far from the ship.  But when I followed Felice and laid my limbs in the water and stared up at the towering mountains, it was clear the risk was worth it.  My stroke had not been perfect, but I was out there, and that’s all that counted.

(Not us, but you get the idea: Aqua Safari – Bora Bora – French Polynesia )