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THE REAL MYSTERIES OF DIVING
LOUISE TREWAVAS
"HELLO! MY NAME IS (EXOTIC AND THIRD WORLD), OF SUITABLY CRACKPOT REGIME) and I have $20 billion US in a bank account. If you help me transfer these funds out of the country I will pay you $15 million US"...
If you have email, the above will be tediously familiar. And yes, some do fall for it. Every week dozens of people must hover expectantly in hotel lobbies - having invested a "smallish sum" of, say, £15,000 - waiting for somebody exotic from a crackpot regime to roll up carrying a suitcase stuffed with cash.
If you needed evidence that human beings are prone to believing a ridiculous story when our interest is aroused and we want to believe, look no further.
So what, you're asking, has this to do with diving?
Diving is not immune from a scam or two; just keep your eyes peeled for people promising a quick buck, "opportunity of a lifetime", treasure. They drag in something or someone famous to lend credibility: Cousteau, Titanic, Nazi gold, a king's ransom sunk and rediscovered.
The scheme will be big, it'll be impressive, it may even come dressed up as a charity with trendy environmental aims (though when you look more closely, it will actually be a profit-making concern).
Another seductive draw is to create intrigue - a cover-up, secrets, lost riches, conspiracies, MYSTERIES. That's the hook. Once our interest is aroused, we want to believe. We've invested in the story and taken the bait. We're ripe for being suckered.
Didn't you realise that diving was stuffed full of mysteries that need solving, and treasure or antiquities gagging to be found?
Any TV programme involving diving has to feature one or the other, and preferably both. The people commissioning the programmes demand it. So, one way or another, divers find a way to supply it.
So does it concern me that a dishonest or distorted view of diving is being peddled by TV and the national media? The shame is that there are actually stacks of genuine mysteries in diving. Here are just a few:
- Why is it always last week that the sea was flat calm, the viz was 30m and the dolphins came to visit?
- Just how many dive blokes does it take to replace a fin strap? And why does the debate about the correct way to do it, and the correct tool to use, take significantly longer than the actual task?
- Why is it that just as you arrive on the wreck and your torch fails, you can remember exactly where your back-up is. On the boat.
- Just how many series of Wreck Defectives will it take for Miranda to master the art of buoyancy control?
- What is it about the sound of your drysuit being zipped shut that triggers the urge to visit the toilet?
- Why does the bag containing your lunchtime snack always get mistaken for a cushion by the diver with the fattest arse?
But here is my biggest mystery: I've been diving with the same buddy for years, and we usually know exactly what the other is thinking without lifting an OK signal.
If I indicate a good subject for a photo, he has whipped out a camera before I've finished pointing. If I indicate that I want to spend a couple of extra minutes exploring the wreck, he will understand perfectly.
If, however, I explain that I'm feeling cold, or I need a wee and I want to end the dive early, he looks all puzzled and my attempts at communication fail.
Are all men selectively stupid? Or just selectively smart?
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