It was nice to get away from everything for one whole week. Cocoview, the resort I stayed at on Roatan (one of the Bay Islands 35 miles off the coast of Honduras) had no television. There were no newspapers. They had one phone that was their business line so you had to share with the business and other tourists. It was great.
No Algore. 'Ah would take the Social Security surplus and put it in a Lawkbox'. Al, you ignorant slut! There is no Social Security surplus. You bastards spent it and the Social Security trust fund is a bunch of IOU's from the US gummint that the taxpayers will have to honor sometime in the future. This means the putzhead politicians will tax us twice. Bastards! And just to show how bad Algore has become, even The New Republic castigated him in an editorial (link requires registration) from the Ocober 7 issue. I mean, Martin Peretz, the head guy at TNR is Algore's mentor, fer crissakes. He fired Michael Kelly 'cause he wouldn't let up on the Clinton/Gore 1996 campaign finance irregularities. When Martin Peretz goes after Gore it's getting really bad.
In the 1980s and 1990s, Al Gore consistently battled the irresponsibility and incoherence on foreign affairs that plagued the Democratic Party. And it was partly out of admiration for that difficult and principled work that this magazine twice endorsed him for president. Unfortunately, that Al Gore didn't show up at the Commonwealth Club in San Francisco on Monday. Instead, the former vice president's speech almost perfectly encapsulated the evasions that have characterized the Democratic Party's response to President Bush's proposed war in Iraq. In typical Democratic style, Gore didn't say he opposed the war. In fact, he endorsed the goal of regime change--before presenting a series of qualifications that would likely make that goal impossible.
No whiney l'il Tommie Dasshole. 'The President owes me an apology.' No, Tommie, you short pile of shit, you owe the American people an apology for putting your party above your country. And once again, The New Republic, in an editorial (link requires registration) from the September 23 issue takes the Dimocrats to task for not taking a stand on Iraq.
No one today can honestly say he or she is a Democrat because of what the party believes about the greatest threat facing the United States. The Democrats are a party of bystanders, a party without a position on the issue that matters most.
What I did miss while I was gone were Rachel, Toren, Kim, and many other bloggers. I could blog about Algore, but Rachel is much better on that. I could go off on Tommie Dasshole or fisk Molly Ivins, but, instead, I'm gonna talk about my vacation. So, if you think that will bore you, run along and catch me tomorrow. I know Toren will stick around 'cause he's a diver.
I just got back from Crip Trip 2002, an event put together by Shepherd Center in Atlanta and Divers@Sea, a local dive shop. There were seventeen of us: 5 crips and 12 able bodies. The crips were Ray (brain damaged - walked with a limp and just a little slow), Robert (brain damaged - in a wheelchair and had speech problems), Barry (a quadriplegic - in a chair. His arms worked but only some of his fingers did), Nick (a paraplegic - in a chair. Nothing worked from the waist down), and myself (paraplegic - walk with braces and crutches. Some of my critics also think I'm brain damaged).
I had to get out of bed at 4:45 AM on Saturday, September 28. Ugh! Got to the airport at 6:30 and met the rest of the crew. Since it was so early, we got through the professional security screeners at the airport and down to the gate in plenty of time for our 8:30 flight to Houston. Getting three people in wheelchairs on a plane is a fuss. They have to use a special chair that is skinny enough to get down the airplane aisle. So, the wheelchair gimps wheel down to the gate and transfer to the skinny chair to get to their seats. Their chairs are checked at the gate and loaded onto the plane. When we got to Houston, the process was reversed.
We had a six hour layover in Houston and Continental Airlines had arranged a special room where we could relax. Of course, it was a hundred miles from our arrival gate. We were on our way when we hit a fork in the road. Bert, our fearles leader disappeared, and we sent Angie, the Shepherd recreational therapist after him. She disappeared also. Oh no! There must be a black hole. Bert reappeared, but no Angie. The Houston airport is huge. Finally, we found Angie. They flagged down a cart for me and Ray. We found the room and it had sofas and easy chairs. Nap time.
After four hours it was time to go to the gate for our flight to Roatan. It was at the other end of the airport, another hundred miles away. Flagged down another cart. Got to the gate. The airline we were flying was named Grupo Taca. Wait a minute! I don't know if I want to fly on an airline that is named after a female taco. The check in line was moving very slowly. The gate agent was making out the boarding passes by hand. Now I'm really worried. I found out later that TACA was short for Take A Chance Airlines.
We finally boarded our plane which was, surprisingly an Airbus 320. I was expecting a prop job. We got to Roatan around 5:30. No jetway at this airport. It's down the steps we went and they were steep. The people in wheelchairs had to be carried down. I couldn't watch. Went into the terminal.
In the terminal, I was met by Nora, a representative of Cocoview, who took my passport and whizzed me through Immigration. In no time, we identified our luggage. After that, the resort people took over. We got on a bus and were driven to the other end of the island. Cocoview is on a small island and we had to take a boat to get to it. Getting us gimps on the boat was a fun experience. After a short boat ride we got to the island and were given a welcome speech and shown to our quarters. My roommate Charlie, and I shared a cabin built out over the water.
We then went to eat dinner. Dinner was a buffet as it would be every night. And every night the food was good. When we got back from dinner, our luggage was in our cabin. We unpacked and went to bed.
Next day we were up in plenty of time for breakfast which was served at 7:00 AM. It was also buffet, but we could also have waffles, eggs, or french toast.
After breakfast we had our dive orientation where we were introduced to our boat captains and divemasters. Also, the folks who ran the dive and photo shop introduced themselves and informed us we could rent dive and photo gear. We then went back to our quarters to get our dive gear for our dive checkouts.
We met back on the beach with our gear and suited up. I had put on sunscreen and it got in my eyes. Ow! Ow! Oh shit! Damn that hurts! So someone had to run get my contact lens case so I could take out my contacts. Then, our fearless leader, Bert, ran and got some Visine. Ahhhhhhhh! Relief!
Now I crawled into the water until it was deep enough that I could do some semblance of swimming. The crips in the chairs had to be carried in. Once in deep enough we were able to get into our gear and swim out to the wreck that was in about 40 feet of water 200 yards out from the resort. About another 50 yards out was a wall that dropped down to about 90 feet. Since we had swam out from shallow water, we had kicked up a bunch of surface shit and the water by the wreck was real murky. Or maybe I couldn't see a damned thing since I wasn't wearing my contacts. Since no one drowned, I guess the divemasters thought we must be ready for the big time. Fooled 'em!
So I drug my sorry ass back to the beach and removed my equipment. I was already beat. Everyone went to lunch and I went back to my cabin to take a nap.
At 2:00 PM, we met on the dock for our first boat dive. Our schedule the next few days would be a boat dive at 8:30 AM and 2:00 PM. The boat dives would be a one tank dive at a site and then the boat would return to the resort and would do a dropoff on the wall off the resort which would end with a swim to the shore.
The guys on the boat were real pros. At the end of our morning dive we hung our gear in an equipment area. When we showed up on the boat, our BCD's and regulators were on the boat already rigged up to tanks. We drove over to 40 Foot Point which was an incredibly beautiful wall. At least I think it was. I was still diving without my contacts so I was somewhat blind. They had two divemasters on the boat. One led us along the wall and one brought up the rear making sure no one got lost. I was diving with two other people: Charlie, my roommate and Cheryl, the girl next door. Charlie is going for his master diver certification so he's pretty good. Robert, one of the brain damaged guys cannot swim on his own, so he has to be towed and his buoyancy is controlled by his dive buddy.
They have a special dive certification called HSA buddy. We have three people on this trip, Angie, Bert, and Graham, with this certification. They are qualified to dive with blind people (Yep! Blind people. They can hear and feel) and people with no mobility. Needless to say, they need to be real good divers for this.
Forty Foot Point was a nice first boat dive. I went to 80 feet and had a 35 minute bottom time. Had a hard time getting down the first ten feet and at the end of the dive I had a hell of a time staying at 15 feet for my safety stop. I declined the dropoff on the way back.
Got back and stowed my equipment in the stowage area and went back to the cabin to take a nap before supper. Charlie did the droppoff so he showed up about an hour and a half later. He also took a nap.
At 6:30, we drug our sorry asses up to the clubhouse for dinner. After dinner, we went back to the cabin. Charlie crashed, not to be heard from until 6:00 in the morning. I stayed up until ten reading back issues of The New Republic. See. Even on vacation I was still doing research for my blogs. End of Day 2.
Day 3 dawned bright and early. Ate a light breakfast and got to the boat at 8:15 for the first dive. Tank, regulator, and BCD were all ready to go. On our way to John's Spot, our divemaster gave us the info for our first dive. In the clubhouse, where we eat, they have placemats with all the divespots. That's what they use for the dive info. Kinda cool. I wore my contacts. I could finally see! Another nice wall. Went down around 75 feet and was down around 40 minutes. Used more weight and was able to better control my initial descent and final ascent. Declined the dropoff again.
Over lunch, Charlie worked on his underwater light. It had leaked water, so he cleaned everything up and let it dry off. Charlie's underwater light will return later.
The afternoon dive was at Gold Chain Key. It was another nice wall. Our standard procedure was to swim along the wall until we had 2000 pounds left in our tank and then turn back. Uh. Oh. Strong current against us. Nice swim back. Now, I'm really beat. No drop off this afternoon.
Before our evening meal we had a pre-dive orientation for Mary's Place where we would dive the next day. Mary's Place was closed to diving between 1992 and 1998. It was then reopened with limited diving. It is two enclosed chasms through a reef with limited swimming area so buoyancy and control is essential. After the orientation, the guy at the dive shop gave a little presentation on buoyancy control. That night, Charlie reassembled his underwater light. It worked, but he discovered a hairline crack in it. The light will reappear once again later on. We both crashed. End of Day 3.
And with that, I will bring Part 1 of the Zen Of Buoyancy to a close.
I'm still beat. Gonna drag my sorry ass to bed.
Posted by denny at October 7, 2002 03:13 PM