Eric,” she said. “You can sleep next to me but that’s as far as you get.”
I tried to say I was sorry, to apologize for my drunken actions, but found the only thing that came out of my mouth was a defining belch.. It sounded worse than those
godforsaken goats. Dan and Erin, who were bunking in the bedroom on two single
beds, just busted out in a fit of laughter. Veronica H. joined in.
Not long after that night, Veronica and I did hook up. Funny how things happen. Christ, I was ready to play the field, have a different girlfriend every week like you are suppose to when you are a dive instructor in the islands. But no. I had to shack up with a female instructor several months after I arrived on St. Thomas. However, little did I know that I still would play that instructor role down the road.
Fire Coral and a Firefighter
I was on the pick up crew one morning. There were about four or five cruise ships that sneaked into port in the early morning Caribbean darkness. We had to pick up tourists from three of them. It was about 6:30 AM and I felt like a zombie; too much of the good life. I jumped into the cab of a safari bus who’s driver went by the name of Hook. He was an old West Indian dude with yellow eyes and a nasty temper. Hook took pride in his bus. With a fresh coat of paint and new seats it was the cleanest bus on the island and he made sure it stayed that way.
We drove a short distance to the Havensight dock where three of the towering monsters were tied off. I was picking up passengers from from one of the Carnival ships called The Festival, and let me tell you, this was the filthiest goddamn cruise ship to sail the seven seas. It was old and ratty. Beverly and I walked up the gang plank, showed our ID’s to the cruise stewards, then went to the grungy on board movie theater. This was the pick up point for the resort course and the snorkelers. We had all the people fill out the necessary paper work, health questionnaire and waiver.
This one lady with curly, greasy black hair was not happy with the legal content of the paper work. “Excuse me,” She said. “This waiver is not very specific. It’s too generic.”
“Well, that’s our company waiver that we have everyone sign explaining the risks of diving.” I told her. She gave me bad vibes. She liked confrontation and I could tell she was going to be trouble. Then what she said next explained everything.
“I’m a lawyer and I can tell you that this waiver is garbage. I’ll just scribble out this part here and add what should be pertinent here, before I sign it,” she said, while showing me the form and pointing at it with a pen.
I looked at her for a moment, then smiled. “I’m the scuba instructor, and I can tell you that if you alter the form in any way or refuse to sign it you don’t go diving.” The dude sitting next to her, no doubt her loving husband gave her a disappointing look. She signed it as is.
We loaded everyone on the buses and then headed to Coki beach on the other side of the island. A big, muscular guy in a white tank top that said “NYFD” was on my bus and I heard him spouting off about how he was a firefighter from New York and that this scuba would be a piece of cake, even though he had never tried it.
“I climb ladders with sixty pounds of gear on, into burning building wearing a Scott Air Pack. How hard can it be?” I heard him say more than once. It’s always the macho idiots you have to watch out for; The know-it-alls, the braggers.
On the way to the beach is when we’d give the lecture on beginning diving with the aid of a large, bulky flip chart. This was a pain in the ass. We instructors had to complete the lecture before reaching the beach. I never had a problem getting it done but it still sucked because you had to yell the whole time over the engine and other traffic. The attention of the passengers faded in and out. In some respects I couldn’t blame them for getting distracted. There was a lot of cool sights to see on the way to Coki Beach. But at the same time, these door knobs signed up for scuba diving not a damn island tour!
For the most part they did pay attention to the lecture; However, there were always a few ugly tourists that blatantly could have cared less about what I was yelling about. These individuals may have taken the course on their last cruise and felt they knew it all. Then there were the macho shit heads whos arrogance and pride said that they were better than you, like my good friend the firefighter from New York City.
It was beautiful morning in the USVI. The warm wind was blowing, white cotton candy clouds moved through the blue sky and the smell of thick greenery steamed off the trees and plants from a brief sun shower. Over-sized iguanas resting on top of large rocks and tree trunks were effortlessly eating bright red hibiscus flowers. The picturesque heaping piles of trash scattered along the roadside from the locals that had gotten rid of their garbage, all made it another gorgeous day in “The American Paradise.”
I was feeling a little blue that morning. Veronica H. had left a week earlier to work on the Regal Princess. She didn’t want to go after all. She wanted to stay with me on St. Thomas because by then we were pretty much inseparable. She talked to this long, lanky British dude, Limy Dave, about staying and working on the island instead of the cruise ship. Limy Dave was one of the managers at VIDSS. He was in charge of the instructors for the floating cattle ships. Dave was a good guy, real fun to party with but he stunk something horrible. Pit stench and alcohol seeping out of the pores of your skin only get worse when you neglect taking a shower. Dave told Veronica that he’d see what he could do, but she would still have to do three weeks to a month before he could find another instructor to fill her slot.
My spirits were soon lifted once I hit the water. That’s the way diving is for me. Back in California, if I had a shitty day at work or was pissed off about something I would call one of my bro’s Pete or Big Paul and say, “Let’s hit the beach, I need to go diving.” That would always do the trick. It was like medicine.
My first resort course of the morning fixed me. It brought me out of my semi-solemn mood. I was fresh again. Feeling good. My ego was also fed. Three smoking hot college girls who were in my course invited me back to their cruise ship for drinks when I was done for the day. They gave me their cabin number and told me where to meet them if they weren’t in there when I showed up. I told them that I’d be there as soon as the last tank was filled for the day. What I didn’t bother telling them was that their ship usually pulls out of port before I’d be done with work. Yes, the day was starting off right. Until I saw my next class.
My second resort class stood before me down by the water. My stomach started to turn. I somehow got lucky enough to get both the lawyer and the firefighter in the same group. The two spouses of the lawyer and firefighter and two knock out sisters, who were twins, made up the rest of the divers.
“Do you want us to put our fins on now?” The nappy head lawyer said.
“No.” I said, spitting into my mask.
“Ew, gross.” Said one of the sisters.
“First, I want everyone to spit in their mask. This will keep it from fogging up.” I said smiling at the sisters.
“Do we leave it in there?” The lawyers husband said. “The spit I mean.”
“For now. We’ll rinse it out after we put our fins on out in the water.” I said.
The firefighter was busy looking at two golden brown bodies in bikinis wading into the water next to us. I decided that I was not going to waste my breath trying to tell him to pay attention. There was no need to, after all he didn’t need my instruction anyway. It was going to be a piece of cake for him.
I
