It's Good to be a Diving Instructor
By Steve Rosse

  I awoke this morning to a world wreathed in dew and bird  song. It used to rain a lot here, but since I got my PADI  Open Water Scuba Instructor Certification, every day is  blessed with clear skies and soft, warm breezes. My maid  served a breakfast of Eggs Benedict, Brazilian coffee and  fresh fruits carved into the shapes of mythical beasts. She  used to serve me yesterday's left over rice, fried in rancid  oil with a cup of weak Nescafe on the side, but after she  saw my Dive Instructor's Diploma on the wall, she went  out and earned herself a Cordon Bleu degree.

  After breakfast I drove to town. I used to drive a six-year  old Honda Dream motorcycle, but the very first student I  taught in an Open Water course tipped me with a  Lamborghini because he loved diving so much. I drove  off and half way to town a police officer pulled me over for  going 135 km per hour in a school zone. He demanded to  see my driving license, passport, visa, insurance sticker,  registration, birth certificate and the results of a recent  blood test. I flashed my PADI Instructor's card. The cop  gave me a grin and wouldn't let me go until he had used  his uniform shirt to clean my windshield.

  I was in a hurry because I had to run a few errands before  going to work, but luckily every traffic light turned green as I  approached and there were convenient parking places in  front of everywhere I had to go. It has been that way since  getting my Instructor's card. At the grocery store everything  was 90% off for Dive Instructors. At the Post Office I picked up a sheet of  the Dive Instructor's Commemorative stamps (Free for Instructors) and at  the clinic the doctor informed me that since becoming a certified Instructor  I'd lost twenty pounds, my hair had become thicker and wavier, my teeth  were whiter and more even, and the herpes on my lip that has bothered  me since high school had gone into spontaneous remission. I thanked  him, and he thanked me for allowing him to be my physician before tearing up the bill and offering me his only child in marriage.

  I drove out of town, stopping briefly to take a look at the new Dive 
Instructor's Memorial being constructed in the traffic circle at the center  of town. The mayor has promised that the statue will be completed in  time for the unveiling on International Dive Instructor's Day, when it will  be the rally point for the Dive Instructor's Day Parade. I won't get to attend, unfortunately, as I will be in Oslo accepting the Noble Prize For Diving,  and then going on to New York to address that United Nations committee  on What We Can Do To Make Life Easier For Dive Instructors.

  I arrived at the pier and parked my car. Immediately a dozen local 
fishermen threw their naked bodies across it to protect it from the 
sun, promising to remain there until I returned. The boat was purringlike  a kitten at the dock, my boat boys lined up on deck in  clean white ducks and striped jerseys; to a man they  were sober, sane and multi lingual. The guests were  lined up as well, all the men rugged and handsome and  all the women languid and demure. They had all  memorized their books, studied their videos for weeks  on end, and paid in full. Not a comp or barter deal in the  bunch. The captain had scrubbed the boat stem to stern 
with a toothbrush, filled the tanks with diesel fuel and water,  and painted my mother's name on the bow. Everything on 
deck was in its place and lashed down, the galley was bursting with food,  and the local liquor distributor had given us cases of beer and scotch as  a promotion.

  I did a brief inspection, welcomed the guests on board and went up  to the bridge. The captain gave me a brisk salute and offered me his  log. I looked out of the transom and over a sea that was blue as a  robin's egg and smooth as a baby's butt. The first mate kicked the 
idling engines a bit to let me hear their tune. I gazed off to the horizon,  and beyond, and I said "Wake me up, Mr. Sulu."
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Danger in Paradise? A Letter to Mom
By Collin Piprell

Dear Mom,

Yes, I have heard about the ozone layer, and I'm using the Super Shutout  #77 sun block you sent me! Just yesterday, in fact, I lathered it on a new  colleague named Inga who has legs so long that a sunburn  would involve quite a bit of pain indeed, if you were to measure  it by the inch.

Yes, I am looking after myself, and there are no more 
dangerous bugs around here than there are anywhere 
else, and maybe fewer. The only difference in my health is that I don't 
get colds any more. Oh yeah. I should also mention the drinks that tasted  like lime juice. I have only been told this morning, too late, that they are  called Kamikazes. This name I have to think, is an understatement, and  must remember to pass along a post-graduate  piece of advice for future IDC/IE candidates. 
Do not drink and dive, they know already. Do  not drink Kamikazes and then plan to do  anything for the next 24 hours may be a new  one for them.
This morning I woke up hours, maybe even  days too early. It wasn't enough that, as usual,  a variety of colorful birds were creating a great  hullabaloo outside my window, almost drowning out the sound of the surf,  which was also annoying me more than somewhat. No, I had to also get  this large palm frond crashing down on my roof and telling me to forget  about sleep, it's up for another hard day at work.

Danger? You want to talk about threats to your little boy's life and limb?  Mother, I can tell you about hazards you've never even dreamed of. Do  you know how many people are killed by falling coconuts every year? I  don't know either. But this morning I would have volunteered as a statistic.  On my way to the dive shop I stopped to take a nap under a palm tree,  hoping never to wake up, I tell you frankly. Not one coconut fell on me,  sad to say, although Daeng the beach masseuse talked me into an hour  of therapy, which made me feel better, but which also cost eight dollars. In answer to your question, mother, I don't know for sure whether I've got  a steady girlfriend or not. And no, if I got one she is not Thai. She's either 
Mexican or Danish--I think. Carmen the diving instructor from Mexico,  with whom I thought I had something already going, showed one of the  other IDC candidates, a former car dealer from Denver who is a Dork,  my hammer claw shrimp in its burrow. This was the same shrimp that  had been in this same spot for the past year at least, and it was  something special just for her; and now the Dork from Denver was  showing everybody my shrimp as though it were his own discovery.  His and Carmen's. Yes mother, perils lurk hereabouts, but some of  them have been imported from Denver.

And maybe from Denmark. If Carmen wants to play that  game, I've promised to take Inga from Denmark, another  new Instructor to the beach barbecue in Phi Phi Island  next week. (For nude pics of Inga, Carmen and the sweetheart below, click here .)

Work is going fine, although I have a beginner student  who has a fish phobia- why he wants to learn to dive I  don't know--and I'm having trouble finding a good site  for his open water training dives. And we've seen so many whale sharks  this season that they bore me, I hate to admit. About the only thing that  inspire awe in me these days are Inga's legs.

No Mother, I haven't been teasing the sharks. There's never been a 
diver bitten in this whole region, so don't worry. The main danger posed  by sharks around here is from all the whale sharks we've been  encountering. Our customers tend to push their bottom time to the limits,  they're having so much fun. The manta rays are almost as bad.
I find that I'm brooding about this upcoming trip to San Francisco. 
Thai International Airways is having a Thailand tourism promotion 
and, somehow, I got elected to go on behalf of the local diving 
community. There's going to be me and 13 young umbrella painters 
from Chang Mai, and each one of them, I have been 
told, would herself be a worthy subject for a painter of 
beautiful things. That's right, for some reason (maybe
 there is a god in heaven) your son the Sultan of smooth  gets to introduce them to the US of A. And the Dork  from Denver ( an argument on the other hand for atheism)  got hold of this information and passed it on to Carmen,  who then told Inga. It could be that the local ladies are to  prove my ruination after all, just like you warned me, Mom.  Although I'll no doubt learn to live with this. Probably things could be even  worse, when I think about it. By the way, I don't think you should leave dad  if he goes ahead with his plan to take early retirement and do the IDC  course out here. Why don't you come with him? You'd like it. Just avoid  Dorks from Denver, if I can give you some advice for a change; and  don't drink the Kamikazes.

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A Day in the Life...
By John Williams

      Introducing new divers to the wonders of  the undersea world is by far the most 
satisfying aspect of working in the diving  field. Students and divers are amazed by  the amount of marine life that you are able  to show them. One of the more challenging  jobs, however, can be dealing with the  subject of (
Don't say it! Don't say it!) ..... SHARKS!

  Beginners tend to have an irrational fear of sharks until they actually  see one swim by. This is not surprising considering the sensationalist  movies that have been produced in the last 20 years or so about our  friend the shark. These man-eating stories have made it tough for us  diving educators. On one hand, we want to promote the fact that sharks  are wonderful to see and that we hopefully will see them during our diving  trips. On the other hand, we don't want beginners to be frightened about  their first dives. If we say "Sharks, sharks, sharks," we certainly will not  be teaching too many new divers.

  Now, if you think you're going to have trouble  handling normal sharks, just wait till you start  talking about WHALE SHARKS. What is your  beginning student going to say when she hears that we just may see a 12 METER SHARK THAT SWIMS RIGHT UP TO YOU?

  Fortunately--or unfortunately, depending on your point of view--we've  had to deal with this problem many times over the past few years as  we've had more than our fair share of encounters with these gentle giants.
  A couple of years ago, one of our nervous students, who will remain  unnamed to avoid further embarrassment, had attempted to become  certified several times and could not complete the course. She had  problems students typically have with breathing, mask clearing, and  her fear of, well… you know. Her husband, being an exceptional  liar (they've been married a long time), backed up our well-spoken  instructors in saying that we would definitely NOT see sharks while  diving here.

  Just a few days later, after she finished her course with us, we were  proven wrong.

  While taking her advanced course during  her first live-aboard dive trip, the student in  question was cruising along at about 30 meters  with Bent, our Norwegian Course Director.  Looking back over his shoulder, Bent happened  to notice a large object, bearing a striking  resemblance to a train, approaching him r apidly with the apparent intent of making him  a smaller meatball. Thinking fast on his fins, he  soon realized that this "object" was actually a  14 meter whale shark, which unfortunately  neutralized all effects of nitrogen narcosis  that he was enjoying at the time. Our student on the other hand was so  surprised that she literally jumped into Bent's arms! Now, jumping is a  rather difficult--if not unnatural action to perform underwater. But since  she was so good at it--and it didn't seem to bother the shark--she was  complimented on her newly acquired skill. Fortunately for us,  she was far too embarrassed--not to mention far too excited to  remind us of our half-truths about shark sightings.

  The problems we must deal with as diving professionals are just  too numerous to talk about here! But seriously, for us, it's just knowing  that when we wake up in the morning, we'll be diving instead of fighting  traffic on the way to some stuffy office. Knowing this makes us feel that  we can handle even the most difficult of problems such as learning the  finer points of whale shark encounters.

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