Don’t dive with congestion. The course said it and I understand why. In fact, you are supposed to abandon your dive all together. I expressed my concerns David as we made our way to the dive school. “If it’s your time it’s your time” was his response. Fortunately, or unfortunately, our dive instructors displayed a relaxed approach to the rules, typical of island mentality. And, after going over the necessary safety drills and manoeuvres in the shallows, I was falling backwards over the side of a boat like a James Bond movie. Deflate your bcd and the descent began.
It was fucking agony. I’ve always had issues with pain in my ears on aeroplanes, at times having to plug my ears and bite down on something as the plane lands. My ears pop when driving, or going through a tunnel on a train. However, combined with my clogged sinuses, this shit was something else entirely. Every metre I descended I felt like someone was drilling through my ear. And my lack of experience made it hard to control my buoyancy and allow myself to equalise at a comfortable depth. My instructor buddy snapped at me to not move my arms, which is hard when you are underwater and your head is exploding, though eventually, I descended the 6/7 meters. I spent my time there with my ears ringing, performing all the emergency manoeuvres I would hopefully never have to use. Clearing and removing masks, sharing air and surfacing in the event of running out of oxygen, and emergency swimming ascents. It was rough and I seriously debated whether it was worth going back the next day.
We had dinner with the Americans again. It was fun, and we grabbed a beer at a club on the way home, ending back at ours with the crew. I went to bed early, slightly dreading the next days excursion.