It was 1974, I was 19. The shop I had been hanging around had given me a job of sorts. I was with the shop for a checkout dive in Destin, Florida. I think, if I recall, it was a Friday morning and I was to lead the first wave of six students into the water, the main instructor, his wife, also an instructor and one other instructor each had six to ten students but they were all old folks, like ancient and over 30 and could not be trusted. My little group decided to take the VW van to the East Jettie and make the death march to the Bathtub and await the main group. Well we did and somehow managed to collect all of ourselves out there and ready to go. The tide was perfect, we were impatient and I decided it was GO TIME! So into the water for their first real dive we went. Some checks in the Bathtub and then a crawl into the channel for some more skills and then really, hand in hand, we began our dive. At the deep hole (not the same deep hole as there is now) we all, per plan, variously layed, flounced, kneeled or crawled on the bottom to perform some more checks when a young lady (I was quite taken with) signaled me to the rocks to see something. Anyways, as I passed one of the other students I felt a tug but thought nothing of it until it was time to check my (our) time when I found that I no longer had my trusty $30 Bulova 666 Diver. Drats. Well, I was upset but did not cry in front of my new friends since I was like supposed to be like in charge or something and there was the girl (who I was smitten with) to properly impress. See, $30 was a lot of money in circa 1974 for a poor college student.
So, we made three dives that day and had a great time and even the old folks finally showed and went diving for their first dives. The next day we dove offshore aboard a local dive boat and had some more fun. Then Monday, I went back to the jetty, not to look for my watch, because see, I had called my mommy long distance collect to cry and she told me to go get me a new watch for my birthday, thus entered the Seiko 6309 I had spied out in Fort Walton. So anyways, back to the East Jetty, we made our swim, roughly along the original route, and then circled out to where there were sometimes big sand dollars to collect (just shells, not alive) and as we returned, I swung by the spot my student had signaled me to come see and low and behold, my Bulova 666 Diver was sticking out of the sand, one part of the plastic strap ripped off! So I grabbed it and stuck it in my jean shorts pocket but the pocket had a hole in it and it promptly fell out so I then grabbed it back up and stuck it under the sleeve of my wetsuit top.
So, now I had two diver watches, I was in high cotton. The Grisbi, funny thing, I used to wear it on my thigh like a sword, and now, same straps, it barely will go around my calves, must have shrunk I guess.
And yeah, they called me Nemrod, and that is with an E.
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