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    September 9, 2013

    My Travel To And Arrival In Warsaw!

    September 8, 2013

    Profesional Debriefer Paul drove me to the airport after a ragging night out in the ghetto of Long Beach.

    Traffic was great Saturday morning and I was dropped off at the American Airlines terminal with no problem… and that’s when the problems started.

    The stupid “Self Check In” is nothing more than a mind fuck in futility.

    After typing in my flight info, it asked me to scan my passport.

    It didn’t read, so I typed in the information manually.

    The stupid machine then told me that I needed an agent to help me finish my check in.

    Great, there was one agent at the bag check in, with a line of six people.

    Fuck it, I cancelled the check in and waited in line.

    Going through security, I noticed they had one line break into two – one goes through a metal detector, the other they subject you to the porno X-Ray scanner.

    I thought it was great that they gave you a choice..

    Belt off, shoes off, all my shit in a container and I’m waiting in line for the metal detector and one of the TSA guys tells me to go to the other line.

    “You want me to go through that?” I asked.

    “Yes, Sir.”

    “I’ll take the pat down.”

    I was wearing my Albania hat; was he was profiling me?

    “Male assist! Male assist! We have an opt-out!” he yelled.

    So, he had me stand aside on these two outlines of shoes, as my stuff went through the X-ray and sat unclaimed for several minutes.

    Then, this big dude wearing latex gloves walks over to me and escorts me around the porno scanner and takes my stuff to a table on the side where he basically does a Police frisk down, without the part about slamming my head into a car hood and a few kidney punches.

    As he was feeling my inner thighs, my belt-less pants slid halfway down my ass, giving a day’s thrill for all the ladies watching.

    “Pull your pants up, and if my gloves don’t test positive for explosives, you’re done,” the TSA guy said.

    I had an hour and a half until my flight to Dallas Fort Worth.

    I sat at an airport pizzeria, drinking beer and listening to the chick next to me complain that there was garlic on her pizza.

    Why would anyone go to a pizzeria if you didn’t like garlic?

    The flight to Dallas Fort Worth was uneventful – no complaints here.

    There's an ashtray outside of each lavatory - why?

    There’s an ashtray outside of each lavatory – why?

    I needed to go to Terminal D; a sign pointed right indicating that that’s where I need to go.

    One of the staff pointed left and said, “That way is the quickest way to Terminal D.”

    “But the sign points the other way?”

    “Go left for the train.”

    The train?

    I’m going to be sitting for nine hours, I’ll walk.

    Dallas Fort Worth Airport

    Dallas Fort Worth Airport – the suckers took a crowded train, I got this part of the airport all to myself.

    The 777 flight to Heathrow in London was as nice as could be.

    I sat next to “Remy” from Lithuania who proceeded to give me the third degree about what I do for a living, why I’m going to Poland, etc.

    We witnessed a UFO over Detroit – video proof will have to wait for my return.

    There is something really wrong about being a pressurized Aluminum tube traveling this fast, this high and this cold.

    There is something really wrong about being in a pressurized Aluminum tube traveling this fast, this high and this cold.

    And then came transferring at Heathrow – I was warned it is one of the worst airports in the world.

    The only thing I found inconvenient was going back through security.

    With an hour and a half layover, I still had time to pound a few beers at the pub.

    Just like going to Albania, a bus picked us up to take us to the plane.

    Just like going to Albania, a bus picked us up to take us to the plane.

    Into the tube, and into the plane.

    Into the tube, and into the plane.

    I sat between two really hot chicks – a brunette to my right and a sort-of Paris Hilton look alike on my left.

    The flight was delayed an hour while some technicians repaired the hot water heater – as long as the beer was cold, I didn’t care.

    Two hours later, I arrived in Warsaw!

    Downtown Warsaw

    Downtown Warsaw

    I asked the lady at the currency exchange in Polish, if she spoke English.

    The best I can tell, is that she said, “No, but obviously you speak good Polish.”

    Mirek’s friend picked me up at the airport and drove me to my Hotel – MDM Warszawa.

    I called Greg, my contact for diving.

    On Tuesday, a man named Igor will be picking me up to go to Cracow, and then North for diving.

    I proceeded to go bar hopping and got so wasted I actually barfed on the sacred streets of Warsaw.

    That part, sans the barfing, will have to wait for the video.

    One of the bartenders remarked about my Polish – “You talk so slow in Polish, I thought you were drunk when you first came in.”

    I slept until noon, completely comatose.

    At 6 PM, I met another one of my Warsaw contacts, Tusia:

    Tusia and I eat dinner in Warsaw.

    Tusia and I eat dinner in Warsaw.

    I got a prepaid disposable phone for use while I’m hear, but the interface is all in Polish.

    So, what did I forget when I packed?

    My C-Card; I hope that won’t be an issue.

    It is 7 AM on Tuesday as I write this; for the next few days, I’ll be traveling to Crakow, Gdansk and Hel.

    I will do my best to keep my three readers up to date on the diving here.

    August 26, 2013

    Another Dry Suit Dive – More Sand And More Water

    August 24, 2013

    In two weeks I leave for Poland, and I need to get amazingly proficient with double tanks really quickly; so far I have zero experience.

    So now, at least, I can get in another dry suit dive.

    I geared up and made sure to zip my zippers; it’s hard to get a visual, but I couldn’t zip them any more.

    I made an easy entry through the surf, put my fins on, and I was away.

    I noticed I wasn’t getting much ball squeeze as I descended… actually I wasn’t getting any.

    Logged SCUBA Dive #442

    Solo Diving
    Veterans Park, Redondo Beach, California, USA

    In With: 3000 psi
    Out With: 800 psi
    Max depth: 101 feet
    Waves: Pretty flat with rollers at the surf zone
    Visibility: 15 feet
    Water Temperature: 55 degrees at depth, 67 at the surface
    Air Temperature: 70 degrees
    Total Bottom Time: 30 minutes or so

    My dive plan was simple – go straight West to 100 feet, turn around and come back.

    As I descended down the canyon, I realized I wasn’t feeling “dry suit squeeze” because the pressure was being relieved by all the water that was flooding into my dry suit.

    Yep, flooding again – at least I’m not an astronaut on a space walk.

    Well, no reason to cancel the dive – I continued to 101 feet where I turned around.

    At 60 feet, I swam North to a formation of blocks and then went back on course.

    I wasn’t cold, just pissed I had flooded.

    I made it out and fell in the surf, just as I had before.

    Luckily, I fell right in front of a rescue class – they stood there and watched me crawl a bit and then get up.

    I can only imagine what it is like to be on a chain gang…

    Dry Suit Floods
    A flooded Dry Suit can hold a lot of water.

    Upon inspection by Chris From Detroit, it was discovered that, even though my zipper felt like it couldn’t go any farther, the zipper had another inch to go.

    I also later noticed the pee valve was open, and I wasn’t hooked up.

    OK, even though I still really hate dry suits, I have learned now to be more paranoid about the seal.

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