I was reading about a shark attack in Maui where a woman was
snorkeling in 10 feet of water 30 feet off shore and what was estimated to be a
25 foot tiger shark bit her. Think about
the size of that animal. A big grizzly
bear is about 500 pounds. That shark was
about 1500 pounds. I would imagine
that it would be disappointing to have what is real life sea monster clamp down
on you. “I don't know because it
happened so fast. I didn't see him coming. I didn't see him leave. He just came
and hit me hard and bit me hard and I just took off to the shore as fast as I
could."
The fortunate thing in this story was the shark apparently
thought this woman initially was a seal and then changed its mind. Thank goodness for the typical American
diet. This woman’s lifetime of eating
Subway and Bob Evans must have made her not very tasty. Even a tiger shark doesn’t want anything to
do with “Avacado Madness” or whatever that gross looking sandwich Subway is
advertising right now. The good news is
she just got one bite. The bad news is
the 15 inch bite from her neck down to the middle of her spine is probably not
very comfortable.
It’s all about finding the silver lining. If I was attacked by an enormous shark like
that, I’d be Mr. Shit Talk for the rest of my days. I would literally look for opportunities to
take my shirt off on any occasion. “Oh
this revolting scar? That’s from when I
was attacked by a 25 foot tiger shark.
What’s that little two inch mark on you?
A skateboarding accident? Hmm… Why don’t you put your tampon in and let’s
get our shirts vs skins half court basketball going, eh Nancy? Who’s guarding the guy with the scars? You sissy boy?”, I’d
say.
I would be so obnoxious everyone would hate me at a level I never thought possible. I would
literally always be walking around the beach looking for a volleyball
game. There I am again mowing the lawn
with my shirt tossed casually aside.
Oh! Now I’m jogging down the busy
road in just running shorts. Hey, who
wants to take a look at me shirtless walking to get the newspaper on a Saturday
morning? It would be “my thing”. I wouldn’t let any stranger get further than
11 seconds into getting to know me before I brought it up.
Examples:
“So, where do you work?
Oh, I thought about getting a job there, but after being involved in
that shark attack, I figured the insurance wouldn’t take me…”
“Oh, you are from (name of city) originally? I haven’t been there since my shark attack…”
“I see you are a Browns fan.
Me, I’m more of a hockey fan. San
Jose Sharks, which is odd really since I was attached by a 25 foot tiger shark
in Hawaii recently…”
No matter what, I would bring it up. I envision anyone that has known me for more than an hour to
be rolling their eyes the second I started speaking to anyone new, or anyone I
felt hadn’t recently had my dramatic first person re-telling of the tale. People will do anything not to be near me at
a party. “Oh fuck, here comes Greg again. He’s going to tell the fucking shark story.
Again. And again. I wish he had been eaten by that damn thing.”
Yet there I will swagger about, oblivious to all of it, with
my giant bite mark scars. I might even get one of those shark tooth
necklaces. This is all part of my new
six point plan where I run a surf/kayak/paddleboard/scuba shop on the beach in
Hawaii very poorly with a lovely female companion that realizes I don’t know
anything about my business. I’ll have
to hire a couple of local employees that will skim off the top without my
knowledge, and will make more money than I will by selling weed to the
tourists. I’ll be in big legal trouble
when they get caught and say it was all my idea. Then I’ll wind up losing the shop and the
lovely female companion after the 25 foot shark attack leaves me in bloody
bandages for months in the hospital without insurance. It
will get real bad with my resulting pain killer addiction. The good news is that I will eventually
return to Ohio and just focus full time on telling my shark attack story.
I can’t wait.
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