"We booked a trip out to the reef on a glass bottom boat. Given my failure to snorkel directly, I thought this would give Dan the opportunity to be in the water again, and me the ability to see the fish in the relative safety of a rickety old wooden vessel. When we arrived at our destination, however, the captain had other plans.
I explained to the captain that I did not swim well, and I had not intended to go in the water, but he insisted.
"Trust me baby... you need to try... I give you the life jacket it will keep you up - just try... it is beautiful."
He tied an old and very used orange life jacket around my waist and backwards, handed me the snorkel and mask, and with a "3..2..1.. go!" I found myself bobbing on the surface of the water.
I was highly skeptical of the floatation device - such as it was - but it worked out to be something of a mini-raft, just large enough for me to lay forward on and hold up my mid-section, while my legs and arms had full range of motion. I breathed deeply through the snorkel a few times, then dared to put my face under water.
The coral reef surrounding us had an unearthly monochromatic beauty to it - the reef, sand, and sea grass all cast in varying shades of green. I glided towards the sound of Dan and found him a few yards away, entirely surrounded by brightly colored tiger fish - they darted about eating bread from Dan's hand, the speed of their movements in direct contrast to the lazy waving of the sea fans below.
We spent an hour in the water - taking turns with the camera, hunting for shells, following puffer fish along the edge of the sea grass.
And I - floating in the ocean in my leaky mask and shoddy life vest - did not panic once."