{"id":596,"date":"2008-02-15T22:40:45","date_gmt":"2008-02-16T05:40:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/psychosolodiver.com\/?page_id=596"},"modified":"2019-06-30T06:04:03","modified_gmt":"2019-06-30T13:04:03","slug":"in-the-beginning-before-diving","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/psychosolodiver.com\/?page_id=596","title":{"rendered":"In The Beginning"},"content":{"rendered":"

Life Before Diving And How I Met Instructor Ed<\/strong><\/p>\n

It was the Spring of 2002. <\/span><\/p>\n

The nation was still getting over the 9\/11 terrorist attacks, I was confused about a long distance relationship that I was in, my rent had just shot up almost a hundred dollars more a month and my boss was a driving me to the point where I was either going to seek professional mental help or increase my alcohol consumption.
\n<\/o:p><\/p>\n

I could create a whole website on how my boss was an over-bearing, overly-bored, scam-planning, lunch-stealing, control freak who considered you his personal indentured servant. <\/span><\/p>\n

Just because my title was, “Computer Operator” didn’t necessarily mean I would touch a computer on any particular day.<\/p>\n

For all I knew, I could be in the parking lot rotating his tires, serving an eviction notice to one of his tenants, stalking one of his ex-girlfriends or be held captive in his office as he surfed Ebay and grilled me on departmental gossip – mainly, he wanted to know what his minions were saying behind his back. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

To maintain control of his department of sycophants, he would regularly rotate the employees’ shifts to keep the workers from getting too close to one another. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

I was the senior operator at the time, and I knew too much.<\/p>\n

It was important to him that I remain under his control.<\/p>\n

My boss gave me a company provided cell phone so he could call me anytime, in addition to giving me a “custom shift” – 4:00 AM to 12:30<\/st1:time> in the afternoon. <\/span><\/p>\n

In that way, I could train the graveyard shift, but would be around the first half of the day shift, so he could keep his tabs on me.
\n<\/o:p><\/p>\n

But what was driving me crazy was the company cell phone; it felt like I was never truly off of work.<\/p>\n

In my off hours I would take all sorts of calls from my crazy boss.<\/p>\n

Anything from “Hey buddy, what’s up? What are you doing?” to any “news” that I needed to instantly be aware of.<\/p>\n

It was mostly meaningless trivia that he had gleaned from gossip, digging through the trash, <\/span>hearsay or browsing payroll records. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

It was hard for me to relax because I knew that it was just a matter of time before my boss would feel insecure or get bored and call me.<\/p>\n

\"The<\/p>\n

Early one afternoon on my way home, I <\/span>stopped in a nice, quaint, beer and wine bar in Torrance<\/st1:place><\/st1:city>, just off the 405 freeway on Artesia — The Sparetime. <\/span><\/p>\n

It was quiet… and I thought after a few visits, too quiet.<\/p>\n

\"Psycho<\/p>\n

Low and behold, my cell phone had no reception sitting in this bar! <\/span><\/p>\n

I know that I could have just turned my phone off anytime, but under these circumstances, I could honestly look my interrogating boss in the eyes and say that “I was out of cell phone reception.”<\/p>\n

I made it a habit of “stopping by” for a few beers after work everyday. <\/span><\/p>\n

I got to know most of the regular daytime customers, most of whom were of retirement age.<\/p>\n

The owner Ed would stop by every now and then, spring for a round of beer and throw any weirdoes out of his place. <\/span><\/p>\n

Ed is a ROK Marine who did a tour in Vietnam<\/st1:place><\/st1:country-region> and had no problem keeping his bar clear of druggies, derelicts and hookers.<\/p>\n

On the weekends, Ed would occasionally throw a party for one of his customer’s birthdays or other special events.<\/p>\n

\"Ed<\/p>\n

\"Another<\/p>\n

Ed can make THE BEST<\/strong> Korean barbecue!<\/p>\n

Whenever I wanted to hide from the reality that was my life at the time, I would stop by the Sparetime. <\/span><\/p>\n

I got to know Ed really well and heard about his stories of Vietnam<\/st1:place><\/st1:country-region>, hang gliding, SCUBA diving and owning a bar in East Los Angeles<\/st1:place>. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

One day Ed commented to me, “You are really too young to be hanging out all the time around a bar with these old people.<\/p>\n

“You really want the next 30 or 40 years of your life to be spent in these kinds of places? <\/span><\/p>\n

“If so, you have a good head start.” <\/o:p><\/p>\n

He told me what I had been thinking. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

Ed is a retired PADI Instructor who loves the outdoors.<\/p>\n

He made me an offer one day to teach me how to SCUBA dive. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

I always wanted to try SCUBA diving. <\/span><\/p>\n

But, all the people who I had known who had taken SCUBA courses, <\/span>spent three thousand dollars each on equipment and classes, only to quit diving after certification.<\/p>\n

One friend told me “it’s just really hard to see down there.” <\/o:p><\/p>\n

Ed made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse.<\/p>\n

He would loan me the equipment and teach me to dive if I bought the PADI Open Water manual and my own wetsuit, boots, gloves, snorkel and mask.
\n<\/o:p><\/p>\n

Several times over the next few months, Ed re-offered and I re-accepted. <\/span><\/p>\n

“Are you sure?” Ed would ask.<\/p>\n

Ed later told me he didn’t take me too seriously because I would always accept his offer while slightly (or more than slightly) intoxicated.
\n<\/o:p><\/p>\n

But once I showed up with cash in hand to buy the book and skin diving equipment, my lessons were on…
\n<\/o:p><\/p>\n

My Open Water Training<\/strong>
\n<\/o:p><\/p>\n

My homework was to read the PADI Open Water manual and come back to his bar in three days – sober – to review the book and dive tables.<\/p>\n

\"We<\/p>\n

As Ed and I sat in the corner going over the PADI book; I could hear some of the customers asking each other what we were doing.<\/p>\n

“Ed is going to teach him how to SCUBA dive…”<\/p>\n

“Oh my God! He’s going to drown…”<\/p>\n

I’ve been in and around water all my life, so I found their assumptions somewhat humorous.<\/p>\n

To help the information “soak in” my brain, I had a few beers after class. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

The next day, Ed and I went to Cabrillo<\/st1:placename> Beach<\/st1:placetype><\/st1:place> in San Pedro – where the “Sewer Meets The Sea.” <\/span><\/p>\n

Ed demonstrated how to set up the SCUBA gear… and then we put our wetsuits on – at least Ed tried to. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

Mine fit perfectly, as I had tried it on before I bought it. <\/span><\/p>\n

Ed apparently had gained some weight over the year or two and was too fat for it to fit. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

Ed just wanted me to swim around Cabrillo’s lagoon to see how well I’m accustomed to the water.
\n<\/o:p><\/p>\n

I floated, kicked and dog paddled through the potato chip bags, six pack rings and miscellaneous debris in the zero vis water.<\/p>\n

I swam 25 yards or so out and then back in.
\n<\/o:p><\/p>\n

The following week was training at Two Harbors in Catalina.<\/p>\n

\"Me
\nWe were to go camping for two nights and two days at the camp ground and dive off the beach in the calm cove.<\/p>\n

I handed my bag to the Catalina Express crew member to put it in the ship’s hold. <\/span><\/p>\n

He lifted it and said, “I’m sorry, but you need to take the weight belts out of your gear bag.”<\/p>\n

“We have our weight belts right here, that bag is full of beer,” I said. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

He rolled his eyes as he dead lifted the bag on to the conveyor belt; we were going prepared. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

We got to Two Harbors about 9:30 PM<\/st1:time>; <\/span>the Rangers trucked our gear to the campsite as we felt our way through the dark to find our pre-assigned spot. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

We stumbled upon our gear that the Rangers had dumped along the trial – we assumed it was our spot.
\n<\/o:p><\/p>\n

We pitched the tent as best we could in the darkness; <\/span>I think we only spilled two beers.<\/p>\n

In the morning, it was hard for me to get used to the idea to not have beer for breakfast – a tradition when I usually camp. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

Ed explained that alcohol and carbonated beverages should be avoided before diving.<\/p>\n

\"Two<\/p>\n

Two Harbors from the trail.<\/p>\n

\"We<\/p>\n

We overlook the Two Harbors Campsite in the morning.<\/p>\n

I set up the gear, squeezed into my wetsuit – which was an unbelievable workout in itself – and put my 38 pound weight belt on. <\/span><\/p>\n

Ed told me, “Fat floats, so you’ll need a lot of weight.”<\/p>\n

\"Holy<\/p>\n

I then put on the tank and thought, “Holy shit! This stuff is heavy!”<\/p>\n

I made the short walk down to the cove near the campsite – it felt like I was carrying the weight of a horse on my back. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

I couldn’t wait to get in the water to lighten the load. <\/span><\/p>\n

However, once I started to float I kept spinning like a log.<\/p>\n

“Hey Ed, I keep spinning!” I yelled. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

After adjusting my weights, it was back in the water. <\/span><\/p>\n

We swam several dozen yards out and rested… and rested. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

After a five minute break floating on the surface, we put our regulators in our mouths, deflated our BC jackets and we started to sink. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

I was breathing heavy so I was still pretty buoyant. <\/span><\/p>\n

Ed looked back from a depth of 15 feet, swam up, grabbed my jacket and pulled me under. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

Wow! <\/span><\/p>\n

Even though I was only a few feet down, I was actually breathing underwater from an Aluminum tank! <\/o:p><\/p>\n

There wasn’t much to see in that spot, but I felt like a spaceman, an astronaut – or at least my perception of what it probably is sort-of like as far as weightlessness and breathing from a life support system. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

I followed Ed, who was constantly checking my air consumption. <\/span><\/p>\n

We swam around the sort-of-barren seascape of the campsite’s cove. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

In a matter of 20 minutes I had sucked most of the 80 cubic feet of air out of the tank and we went ashore – I crawled out on my hands and knees as gravity took effect. <\/span><\/p>\n

A few small children playing at the beach ran over to me and asked, “Are you alright? <\/span><\/p>\n

“Why are you crawling?”<\/p>\n

“This crap is heavy..,” I answered.<\/p>\n

When I made it back to camp, I took my wetsuit off and slept for two hours. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

I made another dive with Ed later that day that was even more enjoyable than the first one.<\/p>\n

\"Eat<\/p>\n

Ed collected a Sea Cucumber and some sea urchins to eat for dinner.<\/p>\n

As we were heating the seafood and Ramen, three chicks were moving in to the campground above us.<\/p>\n

\"Chicks<\/p>\n

I’m acting like I’m taking a picture of Ed, but in reality I’m checking the chicks out.<\/p>\n

As the night progressed, we got to know some of our fellow campers – Tim, an every-other-weekend regular – Bud, the manager to the Yacht Club here, and the three chicks above us – a workaholic magazine editor who flew back to the mainland the next day, <\/span>a dike-looking heavy set chick and a really cute blonde from Sweden.<\/p>\n

\"We<\/p>\n

We proceeded to party into the night. <\/span><\/p>\n

The girls made some really strong mixed drinks out of Vodka and Bacardi 151 because, “beer and wine are too heavy to carry when we’re camping.”<\/p>\n

Since I was now a diver, I used my recently acquired machismo to impress the women.<\/p>\n

“Do you know why we carry knives when we dive?” I asked the Swedish woman.<\/p>\n

“I don’t know,” she replied.<\/p>\n

“We carry knives to fight off sharks,” I answered. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

“Oh, I don’t believe you,” she said in the cutest Swedish accent. <\/span><\/p>\n

I thought to myself that I really need a girlfriend more than SCUBA certification.<\/p>\n

All total, I was able to get three dives in that weekend.
\n<\/o:p><\/p>\n

Since Ed was my friend, and teaching me out of his genuine kindness, I had no concept at that time how much I owe to him for my continued diving. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

To become a Certified Open Water Diver, you need to complete classroom sessions, a written test, pool exercises, a skin dive and four SCUBA dives. <\/span><\/p>\n

Unfortunately, for most people, that is not enough to instill a lot of confidence in one’s diving ability. <\/span><\/p>\n

Unless a new diver has a core group of diving buddies, 80% or more of recently certified divers quit diving within a year – at least that’s the statistic that a SCUBA manager afterwards told me.<\/p>\n

\"Leo<\/p>\n

Every weekend for several months Ed and I went beach diving, most of the time at Leo<\/st1:placename> Carrillo<\/st1:placename> State<\/st1:placetype> Beach<\/st1:placetype><\/st1:place>. <\/span><\/p>\n

We would pack our diving gear and a cooler full of beer and Korean food and make a day out of Leo Carrillo – diving in the morning and partying until 1 PM<\/st1:time> with the likes of beach bums named Horse, Mike and Starla.<\/p>\n

\"Ed<\/p>\n

Ed at Leo Carrillo<\/p>\n

\"Me<\/p>\n

Me at Leo Carrillo.<\/p>\n

\"Ed<\/p>\n

Ed makes Uni at Leo Carrillo.<\/p>\n

I think I must have had 12 dives under my belt before we went to Redondo Beach for my “check out” dive – underwater removal and replacement of my weight belt, removal and replacement of my mask, clearing my mask underwater, regulator ditch and recovery, emergency swimming ascent and buddy breathing. <\/o:p><\/p>\n

During my early dives, I was not in great shape and certainly not conditioned for a lot of beach diving. <\/span><\/p>\n

One time I crawled out of the water at Redondo Beach<\/st1:place><\/st1:city> and just laid in the sand for 30 minutes; <\/span>Ed thought that I was going to quit diving at that time.<\/p>\n

My First Solo Dive & Solo Diving In General<\/strong><\/p>\n

Ed worked as a security guard on graveyard shift, so he wasn’t available every weekend.<\/p>\n

I drove up to Leo Carrillo alone one morning and met a “buddy” to go diving.<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, my “buddy” forgot to pack his mask.<\/p>\n

He was sort of a stoner-acting type person and said, “Oh wow! Sorry dude, I forgot my mask!<\/p>\n

“I can’t go diving; Oh well, let’s just slam some beer.”<\/p>\n

I was a bit pissed.<\/p>\n

If I wanted just to drink, I would have driven 15 minutes to Redondo Beach and not over an hour to Leo Carrillo.<\/p>\n

Ed always told me – and I have heard it from divers and instructors since – “Just trust yourself, not your buddy – you are the only one who can help you.”<\/p>\n

I went diving alone – for about 15 minutes.<\/p>\n

The visibility was okay, I was just a little lonely and scared.<\/p>\n

I went ashore fairly quickly.<\/p>\n

As I dove more, I became more comfortable with solo diving.<\/p>\n

Now, I actually prefer to dive alone than with someone I don’t know or whom
\nI have never dove with.<\/p>\n

I owe a lot to my friend Ed for getting me started and making sure I was comfortable and basically competent to participate in the great sport of SCUBA diving.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Life Before Diving And How I Met Instructor Ed It was the Spring of 2002. The nation was still getting over the 9\/11 terrorist attacks, I was confused about a long distance relationship that I was in, my rent had just shot up almost a hundred dollars more a month and my boss was a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"parent":2,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/psychosolodiver.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/596"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/psychosolodiver.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/psychosolodiver.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/psychosolodiver.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/psychosolodiver.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=596"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/psychosolodiver.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/596\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4986,"href":"https:\/\/psychosolodiver.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/596\/revisions\/4986"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/psychosolodiver.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/psychosolodiver.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=596"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}