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Scuba Diving in Spain

It was June 15, 2005, a day in Spain that I will never forget. The sun was shining really hard down on our tour bus. I was on the bus listening to my music, my mother and sister was listening to the guide. When all of the sudden my sister yanked with shear force my head phones right off my head. While I’m still dazed and confused my sister, Alana, asks, “Do you want to go swimming or scuba diving?” My reply was “I don’t care! I just want my head phones back!” So Alana told Mother that I said scuba diving. My mother paid the guide the 10 euro, so we went scuba diving.
The boat ride to the location, we were to go diving was magnificent. The waves thrusting against the boat, the heavy wind hitting my face was brilliant. The scenery was drop-dead gorgeous, no, better there is no word in the English language to explain its beauty. The crispy blue of the waves, the salty smell of the sea, and the cold splashes of the waves that came ever so often were exquisite.
When we finally got to the other side of the bay we got this huge, long, and boring lecture on not to touch anything, instructions on diving , the wet suit and etc. Yet again I wasn’t listening. I was daydreaming about the Mediterranean Sea. Thinking about the day I will sail all of the oceans and seas’ when I join the United States of America’s naval force. After lecturing us we put on our suits. I was the fastest one out of our group to finish putting on our wet suits. Putting on the tanks was the hardest and heaviest part of everything. It felt like having another person on your back. I’m not talking about one of that puny, little, midget sized kids either. I’m mean those huge, muscle packed teenage football players with all of there gear on. Walking with the flippers was tricky. You had to spread your legs so they wouldn’t cross over on each other. Swimming with them was like having a mermaid/man tail. They were the size of my shins extended off my foot. The goggles were hideous. They were these huge, mortifying hot pink things. The pink was so bright the sun seemed like the moon.
After doing that I finally met my instructor. He was a guy named Dave. He had this weird exotic type accent. It was British with this twist of Austrian at the same time. He was a shark fishing and scuba diving teacher. He had a go-tee and the funky looking British shag hairstyle. It was like the Beatles when they first came to the states but a little longer and sandy blonde.
When we finally go into the water he said in his exotic accent that we will see a couple of jellyfish and octopuses and other animals that we mustn’t touch or something to that effect. I wasn’t listening, I was humming my favorite song, “Lipstick and Bruises” by Lit. He was rambling on and on about panicking and what not. Well not paying any attention got me all freaked out when the air tanks were switching with the water pressure. We went back up just for him to lecture me once more with a bit of irradiance in his voice. Little ole me still wasn’t listening I was singing in my head this time, so all he said was a waste of breath. Next time we had a problem I just said screw it and went on.
A few minutes later we were down quite a bit when I saw a jelly fish. I was fascinated with it. I just had to touch it. I did, on the top, the squishy, slimy part. Dave saw and stopped me when I tried again. He wiggled his finger at me, like a mother does when a baby throws food on the ground. Unknowing I apparently kicked it because I felt this shock you get when you stick a bobby pin into an electric socket. It had to be the most wickedly awesome thing I have ever felt and the scar on my foot is so totally worth it too.
Getting past that, the different types of fish were so totally sweet. There were so many colors; some I had never seen before. The oranges, purples, blues, greens, and yellows all together were breathtaking. They would do the one thing I thought would never happen in my wildest dreams; they swam right past us without thinking twice. That was awesome. The octopus was a pretty interesting sight. Watching it bend, twist and unfold its way out from underneath the rock. Dave looked at me with his eyes glaring saying don’t you even dare. I gave a look of disappointment in return. We went back to the shore after a while. As we were getting out he told me, “You shouldn’t have touched anything, especially that jelly fish. You could have gotten severely hurt.” “Blah Blah Blah,” was pretty much what I heard. Then he went to my mother and told her what happened. All she said laughing, “She’s always doing stupid stuff; you just have to get used to it.” He looked back at me thinking that I was type of psychopath who would jump off a flight of stairs for amusement. I could read it in his eyes so my lovely reply was a large, stupid sarcastic grin that says “you know it and I don’t care.”
That was my trip to the gorgeous Loret Del Mar, Spain. Scuba diving in the Mediterranean Sea was one experience I know I will never forget. I know that because it was the most hilarious and fun trip ever. Plus I've got a scar to remind me of it every time I go bare foot.