I stumbled toward the water, desperate for it, as hot and heavy-laden as a camel in the Sahara. An hour to prepare, test, and outfit myself in scuba gear in the unrelenting sunshine of the Maui beach park had culminated in this push for relief. Once the thick black wetsuit was on, covering every inch of skin, the heavy weight belt, Buoyancy Compensator Device (BCD) and air tank were loaded onto my back, the merely uncomfortably warm sun became unbearable.
Sweat beaded my forehead, trickled down my spine, and puddled in the claustrophobic carapace of the air tank layered over the vest, saturating the constricting suit as I trudged through hot yellow sand, bare feet burning, eyes fixed on the glittering expanse of ocean. The water ahead promised not only relief, but the freedom of flying weightless after the torture of the hot, heavy gear.
My back bowed under the weight of steel and rubber as I staggered the last few feet to reach the waves. Unheeding how any of this looked to the touris…
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