I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. I ran into the SCUBA Police this morning. My wife, my two sons and I went over to Grayson Lake in Kentucky. I took my 72, my Aquamaster, fins, (classic oval) mask, snorkel, capillary depth gauge and weight belt and we rented a pontoon boat for the day. We cruised around the lake for a while, then anchored in a little cove. After sticking up my dive flag, I put on my gear and dropped over the side with a can of Cheez-Whiz in my fist. The water was only about 20 feet deep and I settled to the bottom on my knees. I squirted a bit of cheez-Whiz and, in a few seconds, a crappie came along to gobble it up. In no time, I was surrounded by a cloud of fish of all species and sizes. My sons snorkeled on the surface and occasionally dropped down to say "Hi."
I heard another boat pull into the cove but I paid it no mind.
I stayed down until my J valve started honking at me. I reached back to pull the rod down and headed back to the boat. At the surface, I found another pontoon boat anchored next to mine. There was a dive flag flying from the awning and there were about a half dozen young people on board dressed in wet suits and just about every diving gadget and googaw you can imagine. One of them turned to look at me as I tread water wearing only tank, Aquamaster, weight belt, depth gauge, watch and snorkel gear. He looked as if he'd just seen the Loch Ness Monster itself. I popped my mask onto my forehead and shot him a cheerful "Hi!" I then climbed out of the water and onto my boat.
"Where is the rest of your gear?" he asked.
I shrugged and said "This is it. It's all I need."
He looked at he water and asked me where my dive buddy was. I patted the mouthpiece of my trusty Aquamaster and said "Right here." At this, he began to lecture me on my unsafe dive practices and told me I was in violation of safe diving rules. Unsafe antique regulator, no BC, no SPG, no computer, blah blah blah... I just shrugged again and waved him off. My son helped me out of my harness, then I took off the rest of my stuff.
Mister SCUBA Police then demanded that I hand over my C-card. I said "What?" He again demanded that I hand over my C-card.
"What for?" I asked.
"I'm yanking your certification. I'll send your card in to have it canceled for safety violations."
I just stared at him. "By whose authority?"
"Mine," he shot back. "I'm the instructor at #$*&^# Dive Shop."
I was starting to get a mite testy by this time. "That doesn't mean **** to me. You don't have the authority to pull anybody's card."
He leaned over the rail of his boat and glared at me. "Give me your ******* card!"
I laughed and said "I don't have one!"
He turned three shades of purple and gasped for air. "But...but... that's illegal! You can't dive like that!?
I smiled. "I just did."
"I'm gonna call the cops!"
I kept smiling at him. "Go right ahead. They could probably use a good laugh!" My son hauled in the anchor while I started the motor. We cruised slowly away, waving cheerfully at our new friends. We spent a couple of hours fishing at another cove before heading back to the dock.
I could have probably handled the situation with a bit more tact, but the kid got under my skin.