you're teachin' students, if you think about it. And when you're cleanin' boats," she pointedly added. "They're not just doin' it for money, it's so you can dive safer. And I know you , sir, haven't taken that course."
Ketch ruefully shook his head, his awkwardness gone now. These certification agencies... From the Fifties on, they'd admittedly done a lot to advance the sport and make it safer - certainly orders of magnitude safer than when Cousteau pioneered his prototype Aqua-Lung in the Forties - but it seemed to him that nowadays they always had a hand out, trying to nickel-and-dime everyone with innumerable 'specialty' classes and unnecessary certification levels and always looking for new ways to make money. They put him in mind of car dealers at times; or maybe labor unions, another institution perhaps outliving its usefulness.
"Always the instructor , eh? What could a course like that teach me that I don't already know? I'm a divemaster, I can take care of myself, I carry a Spare Air. Me diving solo has to be safer than diving with the eight-year-olds they've started trying to suck in. What do they call that silliness, 'Bubble Blowers' or something like that?" Then, as he paused to catch his breath, a light bulb suddenly came on and he quickly backtracked. "But you're probably right," he said, sheepishly enough he hoped. "It's probably a sensible thing to do, especially at my age, and I should probably carry more redundant gear if I go solo. Are you qualified to teach that course, by any chance?"
She looked up at him in surprise. "I think so. I could check into what I'd have to do."
"Well then, how about if you do that and tell me when? I'll pay the going rate, whatever it is."
"Really? You're serious, right? You're not funnin' with me?" Ketch shook his head and she continued. "Well, I know there's some classroom material, of course, and three dives. And I know you'll need some more gear. You sure about this?"
Ketch nodded. "I am."
"Well then, will you put off cleanin' your ole boat 'til after?" she inquired mischievously. "Never mind, I think you'll be okay this one time. But you can't get the tank tomorrow, I'll be closed. It's my day off and I'm supposed to go see my mama."
"Oh, that's right, I forgot ," Ketch said. "You know how it is with us retired folks. Like Mister Buffett said, the days drift by and they don't have names. Oh well, another time then. Now that I think about it, I might not be able to get back here before you close today. I have to prepare for a cookout at my place tonight."
"Oh yeah? What's the occasion?"
"No occasion, I just felt like it. We got some cobia today and I thought we could grill it up, that's all. The Captain's coming, and maybe some folks from the boatyard. No one was around when we docked, but I left notes for Mario and Len." He paused for a moment and took another drink. "Are you doing anything after work?" he casually inquired.
"I don't know - why, is that an invitation? I can't tell," she teased. "Sure, why not? Mick won't be around anyway. And hey, I could carry a tank over with me. What time?"
Kari attending would be good; Kari without that layabout Mick would be even better. He hadn't explicitly invited Mick anyway, but he wouldn't point that out. "Thanks, that's good of you. You close at five today, right? I'll start grilling at six if that's okay."
" Okay, sounds good! I could do with some partyin', I've been so busy here," she said. Ketch doubted that, but he didn't say so. "Can I bring somethin'?" she asked.
"No, you don't have time for that. I already have the kind of wine you like."
"You remember what I like? I'm impressed. Okay, I'll see y'all then, and I'll bring you a tank."
"Good," Ketch said with relief. Mission accomplished. He glanced at the wall clock. "Well, I should be going, I have another stop to make. Thanks for the drink."
"Anytime, Han Solo," she said as he hastened to make his exit. "See y'all later!"
Well - back to the business at
Ketch ruefully shook his head, his awkwardness gone now. These certification agencies... From the Fifties on, they'd admittedly done a lot to advance the sport and make it safer - certainly orders of magnitude safer than when Cousteau pioneered his prototype Aqua-Lung in the Forties - but it seemed to him that nowadays they always had a hand out, trying to nickel-and-dime everyone with innumerable 'specialty' classes and unnecessary certification levels and always looking for new ways to make money. They put him in mind of car dealers at times; or maybe labor unions, another institution perhaps outliving its usefulness.
"Always the instructor , eh? What could a course like that teach me that I don't already know? I'm a divemaster, I can take care of myself, I carry a Spare Air. Me diving solo has to be safer than diving with the eight-year-olds they've started trying to suck in. What do they call that silliness, 'Bubble Blowers' or something like that?" Then, as he paused to catch his breath, a light bulb suddenly came on and he quickly backtracked. "But you're probably right," he said, sheepishly enough he hoped. "It's probably a sensible thing to do, especially at my age, and I should probably carry more redundant gear if I go solo. Are you qualified to teach that course, by any chance?"
She looked up at him in surprise. "I think so. I could check into what I'd have to do."
"Well then, how about if you do that and tell me when? I'll pay the going rate, whatever it is."
"Really? You're serious, right? You're not funnin' with me?" Ketch shook his head and she continued. "Well, I know there's some classroom material, of course, and three dives. And I know you'll need some more gear. You sure about this?"
Ketch nodded. "I am."
"Well then, will you put off cleanin' your ole boat 'til after?" she inquired mischievously. "Never mind, I think you'll be okay this one time. But you can't get the tank tomorrow, I'll be closed. It's my day off and I'm supposed to go see my mama."
"Oh, that's right, I forgot ," Ketch said. "You know how it is with us retired folks. Like Mister Buffett said, the days drift by and they don't have names. Oh well, another time then. Now that I think about it, I might not be able to get back here before you close today. I have to prepare for a cookout at my place tonight."
"Oh yeah? What's the occasion?"
"No occasion, I just felt like it. We got some cobia today and I thought we could grill it up, that's all. The Captain's coming, and maybe some folks from the boatyard. No one was around when we docked, but I left notes for Mario and Len." He paused for a moment and took another drink. "Are you doing anything after work?" he casually inquired.
"I don't know - why, is that an invitation? I can't tell," she teased. "Sure, why not? Mick won't be around anyway. And hey, I could carry a tank over with me. What time?"
Kari attending would be good; Kari without that layabout Mick would be even better. He hadn't explicitly invited Mick anyway, but he wouldn't point that out. "Thanks, that's good of you. You close at five today, right? I'll start grilling at six if that's okay."
" Okay, sounds good! I could do with some partyin', I've been so busy here," she said. Ketch doubted that, but he didn't say so. "Can I bring somethin'?" she asked.
"No, you don't have time for that. I already have the kind of wine you like."
"You remember what I like? I'm impressed. Okay, I'll see y'all then, and I'll bring you a tank."
"Good," Ketch said with relief. Mission accomplished. He glanced at the wall clock. "Well, I should be going, I have another stop to make. Thanks for the drink."
"Anytime, Han Solo," she said as he hastened to make his exit. "See y'all later!"
Well - back to the business at
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