A Shark Tale

I've been watching the Shark Week shows on TV, thorougly mesmerized with this amazing predatory animal and the human fascination with it. I was reminded of a time many years ago, when I was on vacation in the Florida Keys. Funny, how the years have dulled the details but they are coming back to me as I watch the shark shows. I've always been in love with the ocean. I don't spend nearly as much time as I would like near or in it. I grew up an hour from the Jersey Shore and miss it awfully. Anyway, we struck up a conversation in the bar, as people often do when they are whiling away the time with their drinks, mulling over the events of the day. This man, tall, blonde and skinny, had been born with a birth defect. Instead of fingers and toes, he had only little knubs, making his hands and feet look more like fins or paddles. He told us he was a conch fisherman. He would go out on the local reefs and dive for conchs, then sell them to tourists at local markets. Would we like to go out with him the next day and try it ourselves? Sure, we said, dumber than donuts. We met him early the next morning and hopped in his boat. John, my friend, became horribly seasick, choking and wretching. The conch man was not amused and pushed him over the side! He threw him a line and told him to hold on, explaining to me that seasick people are better off in the water. I was not going to argue with him as I didn't want to get tossed over the side, too. There was John, as miserable as a person can be and still be alive and conscious, holding on for dear life, human chum in the wake behind the boat. We arrived at the place where the conch collecting was good and the fun began. I was a pretty strong swimmer in those days and was able to swim to the bottom in about 30 feet of water with no fins or goggles. Trouble was, by the time I fought my way down I was spent and didn't have much air or energy left to play around on the bottom. Salt water is much more bouyant than fresh water and wants to pop you up to the surface. I managed to pick up a few shells and bring them back up and repeat this a couple more times before I was done in. John had recovered enough to make a couple of dives himself. We motored in, said goodbye and thanks to the conch man with no fingers or toes, and stashed the conchs in the motel room. They were funny little creatures, who crawled around the floor of our room. We went to the same bar that night and struck up a conversation with other locals. They said WHAT? You went diving WHERE? Do you realize how SHARK INFESTED that reef is??? They said that local pilots like to take tourists for flights over that reef to show them all the sharks. John and I looked at each other in stony silence. Ignorance is bliss. We dove the sharkey reef and lived to tell the tale. I had the conchs to prove it. Back in NJ it seemed so surreal and I don't recall telling anyone about it. So I'm telling it now. I'm terrified of sharks. The movie "Jaws" sealed my fate. I'm in awe of them and don't want them killed because I love wild things and believe they are an important part of the oceanic eco-system. But I don't want to be in the same water with them.