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Article by Bret Gilliam I started diving in 1959, so I had my 50th anniversary last year. That's not as bad as it sounds since my father, a senior naval officer, indulged my fascination with scuba after watching the first episode of Sea Hunt with me the year before. We then moved to a distant outpost called Key West and my future career unfolded from the first day in snorkeling gear. I was only eight years old when I did my first dive in Garrison Bight under the watchful eye of an “instructor” who never left the comfort of his deck chair on the pier as I blundered through mask clearing and other exercises and occasionally surfaced to see if I was doing things okay.
I guess that was probably the first edition of modern “specialty” courses. But I managed to survive over 18,000 dives to date and have developed a certain perspective over the years that might be useful to other divers. Here are a few tips:
Gilliam's Custom Dive Dictionary It's also helpful to know the real definitions to some diving terms in common use: World class diving: Anything a diving magazine wrote an article about, includes Nebraska. Unlimited shore diving: As long as you don't mind the three-mile swim to the barrier reef. All-inclusive price: They'll charge you for anything they can possibly think of. Boyle's Law of Dive Brochures: The actual size of your room will be inversely related to its wide-angle image in the photo. Eco-Resort: No air conditioning, no hot water, fragrant outhouses, no phones, no internet, no deodorant, lots of rice. Feel good about yourself while you sweat. Professional divemaster: Loads and unloads at least a thousand tanks a day and gets paid about what the second shift at Whatta-Burger makes. Authority: A speaker from out of town. Expert: He brings his own slides or Power Point presentation. Underwater photography specialist: Knows how to set camera to TTL/auto mode. High performance regulator: A TSA agent pulling on the rubber glove as you are led into the little private room at airport security. Lifetime warranty: Until it needs parts or service. Open circuit: A diver capable of rational thought process. Very rare species. Closed circuit: The average DIR zealot or most blondes with Botox… including men. Second stage: the “falling down” phase of too much Tequila. Manifold: When a male diver's belly laps over his Speedo. Safety sausage: the use of a condom for post-dive hook-ups. Wet suit: When you see your first great white shark up close… while still on the boat dive platform. Dry Suit: What you wear to a meaningless job in an office. Flow-Through Piston: Sweet relief in your wet suit after four cups of coffee. Yoke: The yellow part of an egg; how stupid are you? O-ring: Perfectly symmetrical belly button Exhaust Valve: The orifice right below your nose where dive tales are emitted. Dive tables: What you set your drink on at Carlos & Charlie's bar in Cozumel. Dive bag or camera bag: Usually made from snappy colorful fabric or stainless steel. Optional tags should include "steal me!" Advanced Diver: All that's needed from one agency is a total of nine dives. I don't know about you, but advanced in other sports or activities usually means that you have more experience at something than you can get in a long weekend. Emblemism: The phenomenon of sewing innumerable specialty diving patches on to your windbreaker. Safety stop: What you should plan for after Indonesian curry for breakfast… before you get on the dive launch. Out-gassing: See above Buddy check: Nailing your partner with the dinner bill in Grand Cayman. Bantin Syndrome: Passing yourself off as rock drummer Mick Fleetwood. Nassau Groper: The patented move that a Bahamian divemaster makes to the chest area when patting down the female divers in his “gear check”. Technicolor Yawn: Full-on projectile vomiting en route 400 miles offshore to Cocos Island. Rebreather: The clown who drives around in his car passing gas with the windows rolled up after a Mexican meal in Cozumel. Rescue breathing: Finally putting the windows down. Critters: What you find in your underwear after a night loose in Costa Rica's San Jose bar scene. Those aren't waitresses or lady schoolteachers on holiday, genius. And you don't really look like Brad Pitt… Body Glove: What you better be wearing if you decide to make an acquaintance in a Thailand bar. Feeding frenzy: Finding out that dinner was served while you were underwater on the night dive. Certified: Technical term for the level of dysfunctional delusional psychosis you suffer from based upon what you'll believe as truthful during diver's tales of adventure following consumption of alcohol. Redundancy: See “redundancy”. Waiver: What you'll be doing madly with your safety sausage after about two hours in the water drifting when the boat doesn't pick you up. Recompression Chamber: The “drunk tank” during Pirate's Week in Cayman. Absolute Pressure: The effects of a particular brand of vodka the next morning on the rough boat ride out to the dive site. Algorithm: the phenomenon that makes white people think they can dance after five blender drinks. Gas switch: changing your menu from burritos one day to spicy meatballs the next. Sonic orifice: Are you kidding me? You know the answer to this already after reading this far. Saturation: The end result of spending the entire day at the swim-up pool bar. Narced: When the custom's agent finds your stash hidden in your BC hose. Reverse Profile: The desired effect of a good “nose job”. Bounce dive: When you ricochet off the side of the dive vessel on your blundered giant-stride entry. Progressive Penetration: How your love life evolved back in the days of movie drive-ins, e.g. the move from the front seat of the car to the back seat. Tender: How everything feels after slamming your way to the dive site in rough seas. Travel Mix: What you carry in a plastic cup to get you down the road to the next Tiki Bar in the Florida Keys. Trimix: Yeah, you got it… any drink with three primary liquors blended in frozen fruit juice. Valsalva Maneuver: When the pretty Italian girl shows you she can put both heels behind her ears after a little “trimix”. 60 Minutes Syndrome: When Bret Gilliam assumes the persona of curmudgeon commentator Andy Rooney and writes drivel like this. Bret Gilliam |
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