Shark Week

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My husband and I watched “Shark of Darkness: Submarine Returns” on Shark Week last night. I have been a fan of the series for countless summers, but for some reason, Mark and I have never watched it together. I don’t know what was more interesting – watching a 24-28 foot great white shark terrorize swimmers, or observing the polar opposite ways in which my husband and I experienced this drama.

As we settled into bed to watch the episode, our three dogs and crazy cat all nodded off in their usual sleeping spots. It was destined to be a relaxing way to end our day. We chatted as the episode began, commenting that it might be nice to go whale watching one day. As the story progressed, our conversation dwindled and we became engrossed in the action.

Bam! The whale-watching boat hit rocks near Seal Island, and most of the passengers were tossed into the shark infested water. I was instantly on my feet, screaming. Mark remained where he was, in bed, with his arms folded, fingers casually interlaced.

“Stop getting so excited,” he said, laughing at me.

“But they are in the water,” I exclaimed, my voice rising. “Oh my god, all those sharks!”

He chuckled and I crawled back in bed. We resumed watching. People were in the ocean, crying for help. I sat straight up, hugging my pillow. I would occasionally reach over to grab his arm as we watched fins slice through the dark water.

During a commercial break, I turned to Mark. “This has got to be the most intense Shark Week episode I’ve ever seen.” We compared the size of the shark to the length of our bedroom. When the show resumed, we witnessed the monster shark leap out of the water and take a man down into the ocean depths.

I screamed so loudly that my 80 pound chocolate lab jumped on the bed and stood over me. “It’s ok, Rocco,” I told the puppy. “Did you see that?” Mark just shook his head and smiled. “Yup. It’s a shark.”

The drama unfolding on screen continued to build. I hung on for the ride, punctuating the action with various screams as I squeezed my husband’s arm. I’m not sure Mark’s position changed until I lost my mind during the attempted rescue of several passengers trapped beneath the sinking boat.

The rescuer was attempting to coax the three hysterical passengers into a shark cage in order to bring them safely to a waiting boat. All of a sudden, a voice came over the radio, panicked. The shark was headed right for them. Wham! It hit the boat and all hell broke loose, both on tv and in our room.

Rocco was still with me, and as I screamed, one of the other dogs became alarmed, thinking Rocco was hurting me. He jumped on the bed and a dog fight ensued.The cat meowed, annoyed he had been disturbed, and the other dog began to bark. Mark jumped in to break things up. It was quite an endeavor, and for a moment, the excitement rivaled what was happening in the episode. I let him handle it, too engrossed in Submarine to tear my eyes away.

He sighed as he got back in bed. “That’s it. No horror movies for you. You get too excited.”

“Yeah…but did you see that shark? We are never going whale-watching.”

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photo credit: N07/10346101216/”>travelbagltd via photopin cc

 

 

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