Or, yesterday, it was in the water. We were at Two-Step on the Kona side, and as soon as we arrived we could see a pod of dolphins herding a school of humans in circles on the surface. Elena and I quickly donned our gear and jumped in. By that time, we'd thought they'd gone, but no, as soon as we got over the Aloha Sands, a small pod of about 12 rode past. A posse of sleek, grey squeeky things roaring along an unseen road to capture whatever suited their playful fancy. About 15 feet from us their skin dappled with the sunlight.

It is common to be afraid of the water. Let's just put that right out in front, right smack square in the middle of the table. Water will drown you; it will smash you into the rocks; it will suck you down; there are wild animals in there whose sole purpose is to taste your flabby midsection; it's cold; it moves around; it can suck the life right out of your body. And, if all that wasn't bad enough, your dive instructor is in that same water just waiting to make you do stuff that would scare the bats out of anybody's belfry.

Yesterday and today I took two lovely young ladies and threw them into the ocean. After much kicking and screaming, we finally made it out to the buoy in Puhi Bay; about 30 feet from shore. One hadn't been in the water for two years, and the other for three. Okay, once again, I've exaggerated a tad - literary license and all that. They did remarkably well. They had forgotten much, but it came back quickly as we worked through gear assembly, did a dive and site briefing, and swam out. Just past the buoy, we dropped down in 12 feet.

Yes, you will. Fortunately, the entire ocean can't fit in your nose so you won't die of water retention. Maybe water retardation. It could happen. Awhile back a student asked me if, while diving, they would get water up their nose. I told them, trying to be honest, that the ocean is full of water and that we were going to be submerged, held down by an invisible force, under the surface. As a result, there was a good chance we'd get water in every orifice of our bodies. That realization seemed to calm them down about as effectively as it would have had I turned a fire hose in their direction.

Hopefully nothing. Nearly drowning, is not the same as drowning. Hopefully you'll walk away intact. Went for a dive the other day on the Kona side, and a friend nearly drowned. Reality is sometimes a funny thing. Actually, perception is a funny thing. Reality is just what it is. Perception is another animal entirely. My friend thought, perceived that she was about to drown.

We were just entering the water down the ladder at Mahukona. I was in first. Of the five of us, my friend was in last. I had drifted well away from the ladder by then, and I noticed that the diver seemed to struggle, their head just barely above the surface.

"There are lots of fish," I said as Michal and I prepared for our dive, "but don't expect schools. Plenty of diversity, but no big schools." Based on a number of previous dives to this particular site, my statement, I believed, to be factual. And, since this was Michal's first dive here, I didn't want to create an inaccurate expectation of the site. No matter, I was sure I was right; my experience was solid.

But that day, the sea decided that I should be the liar. Now she's made me mad.

We're drilled to never dive alone.  Of course, one reason is so we don't die alone - but, let's not dwell on that. Instead let's consider for what are Good Buddys. I've lost one of mine. Misplaced, I suppose in the chaos of life. My Best Buddy is my son, Sterling (don't worry, I didn't misplace him). There is nothing, nothing on the planet that can compare to diving in a silent world and you simply look, just look, at your buddy, and he knows what you are thinking.

What else is there, right? But it's a bit more complicated than those three labels imply. Am I a Beginning diver, an Advanced diver, or an Expert diver. You would be very hard pressed to define those categories based on the number of dives. And, while the number of dives in your logbook shows something, it doesn't necessarily show everything. Take a look at the magic number '20'. Dive accident statistics show that over half of all accidents occur with divers who have logged less than 20 dives.

Sunday started out the kind of day where all you really want to do is go back to bed. It was drizzling, cold, grey, and foggy. Okay, it doesn't matter; when you're diving you can't tell. But I guarantee your mood and 'chilly tolerance' will be mightily affected by all that grey drizzle. Too bad! Drag yourself out, load the car and Voila!

The Sun Shone. It Shined. It shimmered. It got downright HOT! By the time our group of 9 divers got in the drink, life was all better. Visibility with the sun out stretched out to a dramatic 75 feet.

David and Jesse are now adults. Well, pretend adults. You know that stage where your parents can't tell you anything, but you really only barely know enough to survive. You've never been audited by the IRS, you've not received your first speeding ticket -- the world is one rosy place. And you can do anything you want. Right now!

These two water babies, having grown up here on Hawaii, would be easy to certify right? One thing I've learned as a SCUBA instructor, is that living in The World Beneath (well, that is what you're doing for an hour when you dive - living underwater) is neither as easy as you think, and is considerably different than you think it will be.