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My trip was more interesting than Carls, so I decided to share it with you all: December 29, 1995 My Last Dive With McKenney - By Kevin. ******************************************************** I called my ex-wife, to ask her if I could borrow some of the kids support payments so I could go to Fiji with McKenney and my 17 year old blonde actress girlfriend, Candy. For some reason, she got really pissed off (she's really irrational sometimes). So while she was at work, I broke into her house (well, I still have a copy of the house key...), and had a moving company take all of her furniture to the local pawn shop (I left her the microwave so she could still heat up some Stouffers for the kids). After collecting the $500 bucks for all of her furniture, I was off.. Turns out that $500 wasn't enough to buy the plane ticket, so I faked her signature on the Visa card that I borrowed from her to buy the tickets for me and Candy. (I don't know about you, but I didn't feel like flying coach for 14 hours. First Class is the only way to go, and nothing is too good for my Candy). After sipping champagne and eating lobster for 14 hours, we finally arrived in Nadi, Fiji. I was a little short on clothes, and so was Candy, so I took her to Jacks for a complete wardrobe. Once again, that 'ol Visa came in handy. Before I left, I had Candy call the ex's Credit Union, pretending to be her, and wire transfer the kids college fund to Bio-Marine Instruments for a pair of CCR-155 rebreathers to be shipped via Gulf Stream jet to Fiji for us to use on the trip. I had never used one of these before, but Farb told me they were really cool, and that I would look like a real diver with one on my back. Besides, McKenney had one, and he's pretty cool, so I bought 'em. I met McKenney on the island of Matagi, where I booked Candy and me the honeymoon bure. This is where the first problem of the trip occurred: Nigel informed me that the Matagi Island Princess II had been booked by a group of gay Orthodontists who wanted to take millions of pictures of soft coral - one of the most boring things that god ever made, if you ask me. Well, the last thing I wanted was a group of tooth-fairies cluttering up the boat with their neon colored wetsuits and tanks. "Let 'em buddy-breathe in PNG" I cried. Besides, McKenney said that cool divers only wear black, and that it makes you move quicker through the water if you look like a ninja. So, I decided to buy the boat. I had borrowed some checks from my ex's employer, so I forged her signature and transferred all of their bank account to the Matagi folks' offshore Cayman bank. (Hey, the ex has a good job, she'll be able to pay it off in a few years...). Finally, we had the boat to ourselves. On the day before we set sail, McKenney and I drank lots of Kava. We decided to play some cards, and he lost badly. I wound up owning his entire film library, his house, his car, and also his slave, Bob Keet. I think he didn't mind losing the library or the car, but he was particularly pissed off about losing Keet. "Why, he's the best boy I've ever had lug my gear" he cried over and over. Too fuckin' bad, sez I. Although I did feel a little bit bad, since I was using a marked deck that my uncle Vito had given me... So the next day, we're on the boat. Candy spent the entire time puking up banana daiquiris and bitching about there not being any tampons in all of Fiji. (Jeez - women are sometimes more trouble than they are worth..). McKenney agreed to set up my rebreather, since I didn't know anything about them except they looked pretty cool. "We're going pretty deep on our first dive" he says, "so I'll set your ppO2 to 3.6 ata." "Is that where its supposed to be?" I said, "Sure, since we'll be at 300 fsw for most of the dive, that'll just about do it..." He had a funny look on his face, but I guess he was just feeling awkward since he now had to pay me rent to live in his house. So we get to the dive site, a place called "Champion Reef." Its out in the middle of nowhere, but they assure me that its down there. I went down to the stateroom to see if Candy wanted to dive. She said no, then puked all over my Ninja Black dive booties. McKenney insisted that safety was a primary factor in our dive, so I geared up with all the required stuff that he said was necessary. In addition to my rebreather, I had 4 80cf bottles with the most unique manifold I'd ever seen (all four tied together) that led to a second stage made by some company in East Germany (I think the same one that made their cars). I had three knives strapped to my chest, and both legs. I also carried 4 Dive-Rite square lights, signal flares, 2 SpareAirs, 2 Dive-Rite reels, 3 safety sausages, 2 redundant Dive-Alerts, 500 assorted cylume light sticks, and a Riffe 5 foot long quadruple band speargun with a .50 cal. powerhead and 200 rounds of ammo. I looked at McKenney (who was wearing only his rebreather and pony bottle) on the swimstep and said "you sure I need all this stuff?" "Sure" he said, "until you're used to handling emergency situations like me, a REAL diver, you need to carry this stuff." "O.k" sez I... I also had to put on about 65 lbs. of weights, since McKenney said that the rebreather was really positively buoyant. Well, the moment of truth came. We were over the spot, and the captain of the boat gave us the thumbs up sign. He looked at me, and shook his head sadly as I returned the salute. I guess he was just envious of all the gear that I had. Well, we were off... I broke the surface of the water, and immediately began sinking faster than the Lusitania. I looked up at McKenney as I descended at 200 feet per minute. He gave me an "are you o.k?" sign with his middle finger (he explained that gesture to me as only being used by "tech-divers"). I knew that something was wrong, and yet I was so touched by this simple, kind gesture of a man that I had somewhat taken advantage of, that I just couldn't burden him with my concerns. I returned the gesture as a symbol of our friendship. As I descended further, I was startled by the sound of something exploding - it was my Dive-Rite lights, the ones that George Irvine had sold me at that garage sale. "Shoot" I said, "I'm gonna' get my money back from George. Fifty cents apiece is a lot of money". I decided that I needed to add some air to my B.C, since I had just passed the 600 fsw mark, and my ears were beginning to hurt. I pumped my b.c. to the point where I was cutting off the blood flow to my neck, but I still was dropping fast. "Damn" I said, "I need a better BC..." As I passed the 1000 fsw mark, things got pretty dark, but the water was full of these bright shiny objects that just floated around in front of me. I saw lots of colors too, in psychedelic patterns.... I then saw the weirdest thing... I tunnel of light opened up in front of me that seemed to stretch on forever. I saw figures at the other end, and thought I heard them calling my name. A man approached, and as he got closer, I noticed that he was Orson Welles. "How's Merv Griffin doing?" he asked me. "How the fuck should I know, Orson" I replied. "You wouldn't happen to have a pork-roast on you, would you?" Orson asked me. "Or a gallon of heavenly-hash ice cream?" "Nope, sorry Orson" I said. "Well, don't come back here until you get some!!" he thundered, like the voice of God. He then turned away, which was really gross, because he was wearing one of those hospital gowns with the backside open, and his butt looked like a hairy version of the "Blob"... The tunnel of light disappeared, and I thought I heard him mumble "rosebud...". Just then, I felt this incredible banging sound on my back - turns out the bottom of one of the 80 cf. bottles had impaled itself on the sunken anchor of some Spanish Galleon that had sunk in the 1800's, and now rested on the bottom in 2000 fsw. The impact knocked loose a chest that was on the bow of the ship, which fell onto my lap. Just as I was pondering this find, the hull of the tank gave way, and all 320 cf. of compressed air started coming out the bottom of the single tank. Va-voom!! I rocketed up through the water column like a Trident missile. I felt a sudden SLAM! at about 350 fsw, but didn't see what I had hit... Then all of a sudden, I breached the surface, and saw the clouds. I probably got about 50 feet of air when the tank finally was empty. The next thing I know, I've landed on the sun-deck of the Matagi Island Princess II.... I've got a chest full of gold on my lap, and as it turns out, a trophy-class marlin caught between the manifold of my tanks. (The gold was valued at over $300 million, and the Marlin made the Guinness Book of World Records, and got me an appearance on the Tonight Show, and a 3 picture deal at Paramount). I removed my gear, and went below to see Candy, and tell her of my strange vision of Orson. When I got to my cabin, there was McKenney in bed with Candy. I was quite surprised, and rather shocked. So were they... Just before I started to get mad, though, McKenney explained to me that he got pretty narced on the dive - so much so that he started thinking he was ME. He must have been pretty convinced himself, 'cause he managed to make Candy believe it as well. Well, since he thought he was me, and Candy did too, I told them it was all right, and asked them if they wanted fish for dinner... Candy was so happy to see me, that she got a little too excited, and started to throw up all over again. Poor girl... When McKenney saw the gold, he started throwing up too. I guess he really did get narced bad... Well, anyway, I decided that McKenney was a true friend, so I told him that I was going to let him keep Bob Keet. Besides, with the rent money he was now going to pay me, and all the gold I had found in the treasure chest, I was going to be able to hire my own help. I decided there and then that when I got back, I would hire the ex to clean my house for me - as long as she didn't ask for more than $5.00 an hour. On the trip back to L.A. McKenney was rather silent. I guess the beauty and majesty of the South Pacific was still with him. I know he still wonders at the mystery of the place as well, because all the way home he couldn't stop muttering "I can't fuckin' believe it, I can't fuckin' believe it!" When we arrived in L.A. I hugged my good friend McKenney good-bye, and reminded him that the rent checks were due on the first of the month. As we parted, he gave me the tech-diver "are you o.k?" sign. Once again, I returned this gesture of friendship, and headed home to my new house in Malibu... I dropped Candy off at the bus station and gave her $10 toward her ticket home, even though I really don't believe in charity.. McKenney is now planning a trip for us in the North Atlantic. He says that I'll be the first diver to reach the Titanic on air. But first, I have to take Farbs deep air course in the Mariana's... I just thought you'd all like to hear my story... Kevin. HeyyDude. P.S. If anything in this story pisses anyone off, I'll use the excuse of the 90's - Its not my fault. I came from a broken home, ate too many twinkies, and am a member of a minority group (Danish/Italians who eat quiche...).
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