"My mom's probably back home praying for my safety," I told the marine biologist.
"So you're out here… testing her prayers?"
Touché, Juan.
"So how ready are you?" Colin and his dad, Johan, asked me.
I shrugged.
"Well, I grew up loving Jaws. Still do. So the irony is kind of lost on me."
And off we went.
The sun was out, the wind was doing its dramatic ocean thing, and the boat ride was full of stories, laughter, and that particular kind of excitement where you're not sure if you're being brave or deeply stupid.
An hour later, we reached the shark point.
Everyone started gearing up: masks, fins, GoPros, the whole National Geographic starter pack.
And then the instructor casually dropped this little gem:
"Oh yeah, don't get too close to the sharks. They can bite. Skin might, no, will come off. And if a stingray stings you, it probably won't kill you… unless it hits the heart or vital organs."
I beg your finest pardon, sir?
I love your nonchalance. Truly. Big fan.
But you know where this information would have helped?
On land.
Before we set sail.
To be fair, we were about to swim with nurse sharks and blacktips, the so-called chill ones. The ones who mostly mind their own business, float around, and make you feel like you are in a nature documentary you did not emotionally prepare for.
But even the chill ones have boundaries.
Taking notes.
At one point, a shark swam right beneath Colin's legs.
He froze and played dead.
So he wouldn't end up dead.
His words, not mine.
Funny? Yes.
In the water? Not so much.
The visibility wasn't great that day. The currents were strong. The water was restless. We bobbed around like corks in a very expensive anxiety simulator.
Without realizing it, I had drifted a little far from the boat. Not too far, technically. But far enough for my brain to go, "Ah. So this is how we become a cautionary travel story."
All I could see was faded deep blue.
No boat.
No familiar faces.
Just water, water, and more water.
I low-key panicked.
Bless the snorkeling-instructor-slash-backup-videographer, because he gently circled around and guided me back to the boat like he was rescuing a dramatic sea kitten.
I did not want to star in a sequel to Open Water.
A bit dramatic, I know.
But what is storytelling without a little drama? 🎀
And honestly, I did it.
I swam with sharks. I tested Amma's prayers. I survived my own imagination. I came back with stories, salt in my hair, and a slightly expanded understanding of what "chill shark" really means.
Next on the bucket list?
Great whites.
Amma's big, round eyes just got bigger.
