Monday, February 27, 2006

Fins In The Water

I am terrified of sharks. Just thinking about sharks makes my insides quiver and my eyes dart back and forth like I’m up to something. I’m scared of their big grey bodies and their beady little eyes. I’m scared of that fin that sneaks up like a butcher knife slicing through the water looking for something to filet. I’m scared of the music you hear right before they chomp into your innocent flesh. Sharks. Are. Scary. Knowing this, it seems a little unbelievable what I did.

Ryan and I went to the beach last May to see my little brother get married. The wedding was held in the Outer Banks, an unpopulated line of North Carolina beaches accessible only by 4-Wheel drive. Both families (bride and groom) stayed in a giant yellow house right on the beach with three different levels of decks providing views for miles. All of us were quite excited for a mini-vacation in this beautiful, secluded spot. The first day there, Ryan and I took a walk along the beach with my brother and his fiancé, Kellie. Kellie’s family had vacationed at this spot several times, so we felt free to badger her with questions like she was our own personal tour guide. As we walked, I noticed thousands of black rubbery things shaped like crab cakes scattered all over the sand. I asked Kellie what they were and she said “shark eggs”, casually, like it wasn’t something that would make my hair stand on end. Ryan and I looked at each other and gulped. Looking down the beach we saw that it was littered with shark eggs for miles. And miles. Our plans of not entering the terrifying water suddenly seemed smarter than ever.

For the first few days, while hanging out on the beach, we watched our house neighbor to the left take a catamaran out onto the water. He looked to be in his fifties, quite fit and tan, like someone trustworthy. Like someone you would ask to water your plants and walk your dog if you went out of town. Twice a day, without fail, Neighbor took his brightly colored catamaran out into the sea. We would watch him launch it with some difficulty, and then sail farther than the eye could see (without binoculars). Ryan and I would talk about Neighbor and how crazy he was to be going out into the water...on a catamaran.

If you’ve seen Jaws, you know that catamarans are highly attractive to sharks and their pointy, blood thirsty teeth. Loosely, a catamaran is a large tarp stretched across two floating beams with a big sail coming out of it. There are no seats. No seat belts. No steel, shark-proof cages. No panic buttons. Ryan and I would watch Neighbor go out on this flimsy sea vessel every day and shake our heads. “Idiot,” we’d mutter. “Doesn’t he know that he’s a moving target out there?” We knew how perilous these little trips were having heard that down the beach, earlier in the week, a guy caught a 7 foot shark while standing on the beach. WHILE STANDING ON THE BEACH. And here was this yahoo sailing out into the abyss with nothing but a lifejacket and some aqua slippers. Oh yes, Ryan and I had a grand time berating this man and his obvious lack of common sense. No one in their right mind would sail out into the open, shark infested sea on nothing more than a floating tarp! And then...

One afternoon Ryan and I were sitting on the beach enjoying the view when Neighbor showed up to set sail once more on his death trap. We asked him a few questions like “do you live here” and “is that your catamaran” and “have you seen Jaws”. Then it happened. Neighbor said the two scariest words in the English language. Wanna ride? Of course, I knew that Ryan, who is equally as afraid of man eating sharks as I am, would say no. I knew there was absolutely no way no how that Ryan would ever consider going out into the ocean on an eight foot by eight foot piece of vinyl. Therefore, I just smiled at Neighbor and politely said “Oh no that’s ok”, waiting for Ryan to put his foot down. Meanwhile, Ryan was thinking there was absolutely no way no how that I would ever consider going out into the ocean on an eight foot by eight foot piece of vinyl and therefore smiled at Neighbor and politely said “Oh no that’s ok”. Neighbor smiled back at us and said, “I’ll go get some lifejackets.”

Uhhhh.

As soon as Neighbor was well out of earshot I turned to Ryan in a sheer panic and said “What...are...you...thinking...Iamnotabouttogooutthereonthatthing.” Instead of responding, Ryan just turned a pasty white and started to stagger a bit, holding his hand over his mouth in case he vomited.

The Catamaran of Doom

I can’t really tell you what happened next. All I know is, I somehow found myself zipping up my borrowed lifejacket and helping Neighbor set sail. He didn’t pressure us or coerce us. He was really very friendly. And obviously he was some kind of magician because Ryan and I were in a hypnotic trance from which we couldn’t break free. After successfully launching the tarp, I mean catamaran, we all three jumped on. Neighbor said “hold on” and I looked around, helplessly wondering just exactly what I should hold on to. There weren’t any handles or straps or bars or over the shoulder harnesses. I was sitting on a smooth surface just big enough for the three of us, sailing away to my doom. Neighbor said “I hope we see some dolphins. Sometimes they’ll jump right next to the boat!” My heart officially stopped beating. We were in the middle of the Atlantic. I did not want any sort of sea creature, friendly or not, jumping around next to us, causing our tiny ride to tip over. Neighbor kept asking us questions, trying to make small talk, but all Ryan and I could do was perspire and make random grunting noises, eyes bulging out of our heads at every ripple in the water.

I know at this point you might be hoping for a big finish to this story like the boat tipped over or I fell off into the sea and was carried away by the waves or we had to be rescued by the Coast Guard. But what really happened is, we sailed out a few miles and then sailed back, safe as you please. We didn’t see any fins. No one fell in. And Neighbor learned nothing about his terrified crew. Even though Ryan and I had seen Neighbor sailing out every day, and coming back unharmed every day, we didn’t trust his catamaran. Even though he told us he had been doing this for years and had never had an “incident”, we didn’t believe it. Even though the wind was calm and the water was peaceful and fin free, we doubted. And while it’s true that we actually got on the tarp when we were scared out of our wits, we might as well have stayed on shore. Our fears of the unknown, the deep, won over and we weren’t able to enjoy the ride. The view.

(Note: This is a "working" excerpt from my book that I'm working on. Just thought I would share. Plus it will make my brother laugh. And he has a great laugh.)