Nurse the Hate: The Continued Shark Dive Quest

In an effort to get a few things under control, I have spoken to mi amigo Alvaro in Cozumel.  Alvaro has assured me that the bull sharks will return by mid-December and I can at last go on my ill fated dive to see these beasts without a cage while hovering close to the bottom of the sand.  Alvaro maintains the key is not to freak out and make a dash for the surface when one of these 400-500 pound sharks cruises in.  "Greg my friend, they don't like the bubbles."  So if I keep it together I won't get bitten in half?  "Well, I hope not my friend!"  This is the professionalism and attention to detail one expects from a laid back hippie dive master.  Eh, if one has to go, being bitten in two by a shark is way better than dying meekly at home.

If I survive that dive, the plan is to then dive a pretty dodgy sounding shipwreck in a heavy current at an eye opening depth.  I'm not sure but I think Alvaro has me confused with a much more advanced diver.  In theory I should bring to his attention that I don't really know what I am doing.  I envision that as being awkward though, so I will just play along like I'm an experienced frogman.  If I'm smart I should get there a couple days prior to the scary dives and hop in a shallow reef dive with some beginners so I remember how all the equipment works.   It would be embarrassing to drown on the way down to see the sharks.

I had an image for this trip.  I sort of pictured myself sun tanned and unshaven, a man in the midst of a renaissance.  Kind of a Hemingway meets Captain Quint vibe.  Days spent diving.  Sunsets lounging at the hotel with cold crisp beer.  The loving gaze of a good woman.  Grilled fresh fish cooked simply for dinner.  Nights in a seaside room, the curtain quietly flapping in the breeze and the moon providing pale light.  Now I am pretty sure it will be a "garden view" room at a joint that has water aerobics and a horrible breakfast buffet being savaged by overfed Midwesterners.  I will take a filthy taxi back to the hotel after diving to drink beer from a plastic cup while the hotel sound system blares "Hot Hot Hot" and "Everybody Dance Now".  I will sleep in a musty smelling room with malfunctioning air conditioner above the sparsely attended yet still loud "discoteca".  I can smell the stale towels now.

I am going to do a search on The Google Machine and see if I can find the trip the way I envisioned it.  Yes, it will require vast resources like a time machine and knocking down all of the existing accommodations currently in the area, but I am willing to spare no expense.  This is a New Age.