Scuba Dive

Neoprene is not the most forgiving of fabrics...

Creature of the Deep Terror (the Unknown Fish Phobia) -

 Rationally, I know that 99.999999999% of all creatures in the ocean have no intention (or appetite) to eat a human. We are too big, too bony and we tend to fight back when chewed. For some reason, however, my Creature of the Deep Terror tends to increase the moment visibility decreases. The minute I can no longer see clearly (say during a night dive or when the diver in front of me kicks up silt) I start to envision unknown sea creatures stalking me from the shadows, just waiting to use their teeth, tentacles or other persuasive parts to turn me into dinner. This phobia seems to be shared by many, as according to Jacques Cousteau: “Man, of all the animals, is probably the only one to regard himself as a great delicacy.”

Fear  of the Numismatic Museum – Many of the most pristine and prolific dive spots on the planet are located in very remote locations. When planning a dive trip to an out-of-the-way place, I have a recurring fear that my destination will be devoid of topside activities. This is not to say that I spend much time topside on scuba trips, but it is nice to have dry options for when the sea is too choppy or I need to get back on a plane within 24 hours. The Numismatic Museum is not the place where people with breathing problems go to study ancient inhalers, as I originally thought. The term ‘numismatic’ means the study or collection of currency. This extravaganza, located in Aruba, houses 30,000 historic coins from around the world. In an effort to protect these coins without using a vault the Arubans put the most boring name they could think of on the museum to deter any shred of interest or excitement about the place or its contents. I hear the name is working so well they are able to leave the doors unlocked at night. Places like this fuel my fear of topside boredom.

Creature of the Reef Terror (Known Fish Phobia) – There are certain reef dwellers that give me the willies. Unlike the Unknown Fish Phobia, I know exactly what these creatures are and where I can find them. Sea snakes freak me out, as do free-swimming eels (but for some unknown reason eels that are thoroughly parked inside a burrow are fine. Go figure.) Sea urchins make me uncomfortable, perhaps because they reflect my topside fear of needles. I also find highly-poisonous scorpionfish to be creepy, usually because I never seem to spot them until a divemaster merrily points them out. Just for the record, however, I want to point out that large animals, like sharks, rays and whales do not fall into this category. If any of these creatures are reading this post, I want them to know they are not scary and are welcome to join me on any dive.

Fear of Neoprene – My concern falls into two categories: not having my wetsuit on me and having my wetsuit on me. First, similar to chocolate and my big brown dog, I need a wetsuit. Without it, no matter how similar the ocean temperature is to bath water, I get cold and enter a shivering state faster than an octopus can strip a tasty clam. In a last ditch effort to warm up, I sometimes swim back and forth like a crazed tuna, a maneuver that has gotten me “rescued” several times by divemasters thinking I was out of my gourd. Which brings me to my second category of concern: the suits are, by design, tighter than NYC rush hour traffic. They usually have a zipper, put there like bait to lure the diver into thinking they actually have a chance at getting into the suit. I have heard that powder can sometimes enable the process, but no amount of talc could help me win this battle of The Bulge.

Back Roll Dread – A backroll is a highly efficient maneuver to get all divers into the water at once, thus addressing problematic currents or the lack of boat mooring facilities. As I stare out over the horizon, the water looks so very inviting. But once I turn around to face the center of the boat in anticipation of executing the backroll, the inspiration is replaced by panic as I imagine some great sub-aquatic drain plug being pulled, removing all water from the area. As the water recedes, I envision falling to the rocky bottom far below (don’t ask me what the boat is then floating on; my fear never really plays itself out that far) or landing in the jaws of some waiting predator that has been exposed. But then “splash,” I’m in, and the ridiculous phobia fades away as I acclimatize to the beautiful blue around me. I may have some irrational scuba phobias, but fortunately they never seem to last too long.