Okay, so given my previous post, you might think I have a desire to hang out with Robert Herjavec, Kevin O'Leary, Barbara Corcoran, Daymon John, and Mark Cuban. Sure -- any one of them could take me to Le Bernadin. But, higher on my list is hanging out with sharks of the oceanic variety.
When I was little, I was terrified of sharks. I was so certain a shark was going to try to attack me that I read everything I could about them to be prepared. Images of goblin sharks haunted me after countless hours reading and rereading about them in the encyclopedia. I practiced punching should I need to bop the shark on the nose. I even scraped my fist against a piece of my dad's sandpaper to see how bad the shark skin would hurt.
But, there were so many things beyond my control. At a museum exhibit, a test indicated that I sent the same electrical signals as a wounded fish (i.e., prey). Another time, I saw a movie in an omni dome. The preview was for a movie in which a guy going in a shark tank and getting lowered fairly deep into the ocean. Great white sharks came. I watched through a squinted eye. Then a shark bit the guy's oxygen tube. I was so scared I closed my eyes and put my hands over them. Yeah, pretty hard to punch a shark when you can't even look at one. Matters were not helped by the fact that my parents wouldn't buy chain mail or shark repellant.
Over the years, though, fear morphed into fascination. I want to see a shark up close and keep my eyes open. Of course, I want to go all out; I want to go into a tank and see great whites. We know I can attract them!
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