Carlos Danger
Contributor
I know I'm not the only one with this experience but perhaps I'm the only one sharing it.
I did a lot of traveling when younger and developed a pretty touchie stomach.
I was on a dive with a couple friends spearfishing. We normally split up so I took off to a great area with a small drop off at 80' down to 120'. I had just dropped over the edge when suddenly my stomach felt like it was going to explode. I had to go NOW, no option.
I was very lucky to be wearing my shorty. I usually didn't zip up the back so after taking my weight belt off I was able to slide my shorty down to my knees.
A vision I don't expect to ever lose is me waving my arms and kicking my fins trying to maintain a little forward motion while my bare butt was sticking out and erupting.
When all was over and I got back to a regular diving mode, I look over and see all these fish around. Apparently they thought I had just chumbed some lunch for them. At that point I lost my desire to shoot any of them and started back.
I decided to share this unusual moment for a couple of reasons. First off I don't mind giving someone a good laugh at my expense but I also wanted to show that these basic bodily functions don't stop because we are diving. This could happen to anyone.
Adventure-Ocean
I was just laughing my way through the Embarrassing Scuba Related Incidents thread, trying to summon the courage to share my own experience, when I took a breather and started reading this. As it happens, my most embarrassing scuba related incident shares some commonality to your crappy story, so I guess I will let-it-fly here instead. Thanks for the inspiration to face my fears so that others might learn!
So, years ago I was on a dive south of Playa Del Carmen. We were ascending from the safely stop of our first dive when I noticed the boat was pitching violently in the heavy surf that had stirred up while we were under. As I popped my head up I was met with the unmistakable strong smell of two-stroke exhaust from the boat engines, something that always seems to trigger a queasy nausea response in my stomach. As I climbed up onto the smallish craft, the dramatic movement of the deck almost instantly made me want to hurl, but I held it in, removed my gear, and settled myself for the much anticipated surface interval on Terra Firma.
I was beginning to feel quite anxious about getting off the boat, when it became apparent that no preparations were being undertaken to set sail. The anchor was not being drawn and the engines were not being started. As the DM began passing out bottles of water, I inquired as to why we were not moving. Much to my dismay, he informed me that we would be doing our surface interval on the boat (then depression set in)! At that point he could see that I was not doing too well and asked if I was getting sick from all the motion. As my deeply tanned skin went ashen, I turned port-side and my stomach just let loose. I began puking uncontrollably, over, and over, and over, and...; well, you get the idea. After a few rounds of this, I noticed that everyone on the boat had quickly huddled in horror up at the bow. Already feeling red-faced enough as it was, I moved away from them down toward the stern with my head overboard in the hopes that being lower in the boat would help me make it through what was shaping-up to be a miserable hour of off-gassing.
By this time I had moved right down to the platform between the two outboard engines, but still wasn't getting much relief. So, I slithered my way back into the water just behind the boat. After a few minutes, and thinking it couldn't get much worse, all of a sudden Montezuma decided this would be an opportune time to exact his revenge too (YIKES). Now in full-blown out-of-air panic mode, it became apparent that the strange rubber garment entombing my body had to go! ...WARHAMMER TIME!!!
Needless to say, these attempts to maneuver a way out of my own crappy situation were somewhat exacerbated by my now exceedingly obvious inherent buoyancy issues. As I arrived back at the surface feeling somewhat relieved, the realization that I was now floating in a sea of my own you-know-what, with my wetsuit dangling from my ankles, cut the perfect image. I painfully faced forward towards the boat expecting the worst, but it appeared the others were perhaps none-the-wiser as to the full extent of my predicament. So, I reached down to recover my suit, careful to camouflage my movements so as not to appear too obvious, but the action spun me around only to look up and realize that in all the craziness I had never noticed the curious onlookers from the five or-so other boats anchored around us. Needless to say the stares of awe were priceless, and I don't think I will ever receive more Dramamine recommendations ever again.
The End
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