Leaving for Florida

 

DWP or Diving with A Purpose is an organization that seeks to aid in documentation, preservation and research of shipwrecks in the Florida Keys Marine Sanctuary as well as training new advocates in the techniques of underwater archaeology.

I am enamored with this project and the people running it. If it were just a field school to teach people like me how to conduct basic new shore underwater archaeology, I would be one of the first to sign up and would be all in from the beginning.  The problem is…it’s not just that.  There is so much more DWP does.

A wide range of socially positive experiences are port of their mission.  From programs in coral reef salvage and recovery to teaching local community members in places like Honduras and South Africa, not only the importance of preserving cultural resources like shipwrecks, but how to do it.  Like I said, everyone’s story is important and should be told.   

As a believer in the healing power of the narrative, I feel that people can find their own agency when they are allowed to tell their own story.  Not only that but can be given pathways to fuller and more meaningful lives as well as visions of what their futures could be.  

Jay, one of the leaders is a prime example of a difference maker.  He is part of a group of scuba instructors dedicated to teaching diving to young people from under-represented populations, as a way of providing them a pathway to success in life. 

I know that getting involved in scuba diving for most ends up expensive gear and a part time hobby. But it can mean so much more than that.  Young people who may have never thought they could do something as specialized and frankly limited to fortunate people, can gain a success directed perspective. There is also a stress citizen science projects for their participants.  Having the opportunity contribute to the world’s collective knowledge as well as one’s own story through guided scientific enquiry is powerful.

I am so inspired and hooked by this mission that within five minutes of the start of the class, I was emotionally committed to coming back next year.  Madeleine (my wife) was right when she told me that this was something that I should do. She knew as she usually does, what I need to do.  She said, “This is perfect for you. It combines your love of science, anthropology, scuba diving and it’s an important project.”  She knows me better than I know me.

As was the case when I went to a field school in Kenya, 20+ years ago, I missed the first day.  I will admit that I should have given it more time, but it wasn’t all on me.  A series of events eliminated the more the adequate buffer I had built into my schedule. There was some traffic driving to the airport…unexpected on an early Saturday Morning, the shuttle that took me to the airport from the parking lots too much longer than I would have thought possible. I had time for this non-sense as I usually expect some of this. 

It was then that the universe took a dump on my plans and then changed them.  For this trip I had to check a bag, something I haven’t done for a long time as we usually travel as cheaply as possible with only carry-on bags. I suppose I’m out of practice, because I had the shame of weighing my bag and finding I’d packed too heavy…by two pounds…two pounds…two pounds over was going to cost me two hundred dollars.  At the time I felt like one hundred dollars for two pounds was expensive, but after a very short internet search I found out that two points of cocaine can cost $25,000 dollars, so I guess it would have been a bargain.

Even at that bargain rate, I still wasn’t going to pay. So, I took the time to repack my bags and carry-on two more pounds. This took another ten minutes off of my already shrinking schedule. After the reshuffle I had to get back in line to check my bag in.

With one less bag, I made my way to the security checkpoint…how long could the line be…Long.  It was much longer than I’ve seen it in a long time. It was like the Disneyland switch back setting, like four or five of them. But I was still good…I probably had twenty minutes left...On to the x-ray line.

I felt fortunate that I wasn’t carrying to many electronics or shoes complicated shoes to run through the machine, just my laptop and iPad. It would be weird if any of my other stuff got flagged. I mean I can’t be the first scuba diver to pass through these lines.

Traveling with scuba gear is a little tricky. It is recommended that your pack some stuff in your checked bags: things like fins, masks, wetsuit and buoyancy vest. For the more delicate gear, like dive computers and regulators it is recommended that you carryon. This is for two reasons, one it tends to be the more expensive and B. they are more sensitive to pressure changes, so the cabin is going to have less pressure change compared to where the checked bags are. 

I’m always amazed how many of those trays it takes for me to send my stuff through the x-ray machine. I average four; one for my laptop, one for my backpack, one for my shoes and jacket and one for everything else…I usually feel ashamed about this too, I feel like people think I’m a tray hog and taking too long.

I usually have some apprehension as I watch my stuff crawl into the machine. I’m always scared that I left something weird in my backpack, I take a lot of different things to work, some normal and expected other things as well as things that are…otherwise.

Passing through the person scanner fairly trouble free, I waited for my bins to emerge from the x-ray machine…First my computer came out…then my shoes…and my backpack…well it got kicked out to the hand search line...a line of fifteen or so trays. Standing there in shock I could feel my the seconds pound by with every heartbeat…I could still make it, all the man checking all the questioned bags has to work efficiently through the trays in front of mine and then just look at my bag and I could make it…but it turned out he was a very thorough and diligent in his job.

Calm, be calm…be kind…he is doing his job…After about fifteen minutes, my bag was next…but then someone who claimed to be running late…a business man…spoke up and said, “Please can you take care of me. I’m running late. I can’t miss my flight.” 

To which I replied…(crickets). I still had a couple of minutes and as I slowly opened my mouth, he gave me a look that smacked of superiority and warning…that I shouldn’t say anything because he was him and I was me. Yes, I could have been reading into it and could have interpreted it incorrectly but as a person of color being confronted by a Caucasian person…I know that look well.  After years of training, I was put back in my place and reverted to the child being corrected in a different way than other kids. 

 I’m not proud of it, and as an adult male I’ve been told to step up…man up…stand up for yourself...It is not as easy as that. Its hard to untrain yourself when no one can tell me how and practicing a different reaction is impossible…I guess I could prepare something ahead of time, but you never know when it will happen and really it hard to know its happening until after its done…and you don’t want to over react, because that just empowers those people more… “Its not a thing, it just someone with a chip on their shoulder.” Anyway, his bag got checked first…to survive I justify it saying it only took a couple of minutes…I still had time.

Once my bag was up, the man brought it over, asked “Is there anything that will stab or poke me?”

“No.”

As he opened it, he pulled out my regulator set, looked at it, tapped on it, tried to turn things and tried to unscrew my hoses. Of course, nothing would come off, because that’s the way you want it when you are underwater and this is the only thing keeping you alive.

Seeing that all was secure, he returned my bag (with other stuff it in) and my reg set back to the x-ray line…Mind you, not the front of the line…sort of in the middle back. 

When they emerged from the scanner both the reg set and the bag were kicked out, again behind a line of ten or so bags.  It was at this point that I come to accept that I probably was going to miss my flight.

After about ten more minutes my bag was up again…the same fellow, grabbed my bag but left my regs... “those are mine too.” With surprise he went back and grabbed my regs as if he didn’t just handle them.  He briefly looking in my bag again not taking anything out or really moving anything, he looked at my regs, again…tapped on things, twisted thing and tried to remove the hoses…again.

“I’m just gonna check if for explosives and let you go.” Taking out one of those paper swabs, wiping it all over the regulator and putting in a machine. I’m assuming no explosives found, because he let me go…and I ran…jogged…walked briskly…walked with passion to the gate…The door was closed and I had missed it. 

So, I was going to miss the first day.  That would be too bad, but it was just a tour of the History of Underwater Exploration Museum and a meet and great with the staff.  I figured I would meet everyone eventually. 

First things first I had to rebook. The women at the gate told me where to go so I ambled off…looking back to see if they’d change their minds…no that would not happen.  Even though I could still see my plane sitting there.  But as a rule the doors close 15 minute prior to take off and they don’t open up again ever for any reason…

After introducing myself discussing my options with the rebooking lady, I was given two options.  Book a first-class seat for $1200 dollars or catch a redeye that was going to leave in twelve hours. Sure, the first class would have been tempting but to be honest it was never an option…it will never be an option.  So, the it was the redeye. 

What to do for the next 12 hours. I could sit here and be angry about missing my flight or I could call Elsa (my daughter) to come pick me up. 

Graciously she agreed to pick me up and bring me back later that same day.  And all would be well.