OOTO: La Garganta del Diablo

Welcome to my out of office message. If you prefer to skip my delightful nonsense, here’s the pertinent information: I’ll be back in the office on Wednesday, October 22.

And now for my nonsense!

You may remember my June OOTO, where I described an incredibly sus blackwater dive in Mexico. That never happened. Instead, I expanded my personal mythology by engaging in another deeply questionable thrill quest: jumping into a cenote with a crocodile. (Not a theoretical crocodile. A visible, existing one.)

Our dive guide, The Moist Messiah of the Mexican Underworld (and beacon of chill energy), assured us, “He’s only 3 or 4 feet, just don’t splash around a bunch or anything.” That guy was cool, he had awesome hair, and is now known in my dive log as The Wet Legend. (He hates that.)

So yes, we cannonballed into that crocodile cenote.
Yes, the crocodile moved.
And yes, everyone did a synchronized full-body flinch...
But nobody died, and the goal of every dive is to "not die" so it was a success.

There was one dive we didn’t get to do last time: La Garganta del Diablo (The Devil’s Throat). Legend says it’s one of Cozumel’s most intimidating dive sites. It's a narrow, pitch-black coral tunnel that drops from 80 feet down to 130, straight through a wall of living reef and out into the deep blue void.

We skipped it last time because, according to Wet Legend José, “the naval authorities don’t love retrieving bodies from in there.” (Or maybe it was the current? My Spanish is aspirational.)

But this time we're doing it!

The Wet Legend himself has promised to lead me into the esophagus of the devil and presumably, back out again. I didn’t ask for details. It’s Halloween and I'm overdue for a descent into darkness and maritime danger.

Just to tempt fate, we’re also diving that crocodile cenote again.

If you’d like to visualize what my potential watery demise might look like, here’s a video about the dive. It’s going to be exactly like this, creepy music and all, except my fins are yellow:

If I don’t make it out, assume I’ve become a haunted reef entity scaring other divers for eternity. That is the most on-brand afterlife I can imagine for myself. Literally, that's the dream.

Also, I’d really appreciate it if people stopped making fun of me for skipping haunted houses where I pay $50 to get jump-scared by strangers. I'm literally descending into an underwater cursed tunnel where "hardly anyone" has ever died and it's costing me way more than $50!

I don't need a haunted house, I’m the best at Halloween! I win Halloween every year. I keep my friends and loved ones in a constant state of fear. I am a year-round purveyor of terror, a living, breathing nightmare in neon yellow fins. Haunted houses are cute, but I prefer places that might actually kill me.

Anyway, my responses will be delayed until I reemerge from The Devil’s Throat, triumphantly or otherwise.

In the meantime, stay hydrated, control your breathing and make good choices.

Or don’t. Solidarity!